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shelovescontrol91 · 3 years

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Between a starring role in Cinderella, live performances, and a forthcoming album, it would appear things are business as usual for Camila Cabello. But there’s a difference: Before the pandemic her work was leaving her drained, anxious, and insecure. Now she’s found a way to be a pop star on her own terms, and everything—from the music to her relationship with her body—has fallen into place.

By mid-September, Camila Cabello was feeling burnt out. In the span of three days she had performed at the MTV Video Music Awards, attended the Met gala with boyfriend Shawn Mendes, and shot the first-ever global cover for Glamour. So when she finally returned home to Miami, rest wasn’t just desired—it was essential.

But rehearsals for New York’s Global Citizen Festival loomed. Before jumping back into pop star mode, Cabello put on a yellow bikini and headed to the beach for two hours of blissfully uninterrupted downtime. She sank into a chair and cracked open a book, her favorite pastime. The salty air enveloped her; waves crashed in the distance. This is why she lives in Miami, her hometown, as opposed to a showbiz hub like Los Angeles: more privacy.

Or so she thought. Somehow the paparazzi found out where she was for those 120 minutes. She didn’t see them at first, but there they were, snapping away.

“I didn’t consent to those pictures,” she tells me over Zoom, camera off as she drives in Miami. (At one point she says to someone on the road, “Why are you honking at me, bro?”) “I got my period on the beach. I’m in a bikini and on my period, so I don’t know if I have a fucking period stain and that’s going to be everywhere. I didn’t sign up for anybody to be taking pictures of me in a bikini.”

Cabello has developed methods for dealing with invasive situations like this. She’s had to. The 24-year-old—born in Cuba, raised in Miami—has been in the public eye since 2012, when she competed on The X-Factor. She auditioned as a solo artist but was later matched with four other girls to form the pop group Fifth Harmony. They released two albums before Cabello embarked on her own—and achieved mind-boggling fame. Her singles “Havana” and “Señorita” (with Mendes) topped the charts worldwide. She’s earned three Grammy nominations, become a face of L’Oréal, and tried her hand at not just acting but starring in a feature film: this year’s Cinderella remake on Amazon Prime. Her third studio album, Familia, is due out later this year.

By all accounts it’s a lot. Careerwise it’s the closest things have felt to prepandemic times, when she was working constantly, arguably to an exhausting degree. As COVID-19 shutdowns went into effect last March, Cabello was able to realize just how tired she was.

“I by no means am trying to complain,” she says, “but it was such a thing of, ‘I have to get onstage tomorrow and I’m performing at this big thing,’ or whatever. ‘I want to do a good job. How do I do that when I feel nervous?’ I did this without being like, ‘Am I even happy right now? Do I even feel healthy?’ I didn’t have the space to ask myself those questions. I’m still working a ton now, but after quarantine I’m able to be like, ‘You know what? Right now I’m just not happy. I need to change something.’”

Therapy helped her see the changes she needed to make. Cabello tells me she’d experimented with therapy before the pandemic, but it was always situation focused—quick fixes to help her tackle the next performance or songwriting session. But with time at home, she dug deeper: “Because I wasn’t stressed about all the things I needed to do the next day, I was able to slow down and have enough stability to look at my stuff.”

Cabello doesn’t expand on what that “stuff” is. She does, however, explain why she decided to switch therapists as her internal work continued. “I wasn’t feeling like I was progressing in the areas I wanted to progress,” she says. “But when I switched, I found I was able to apply what they said in a way that benefited my mental health.”

One lesson she’s learned is the power of saying no. Two hit albums under her belt give Cabello the freedom to do things her way. Now she always has one day off a week, minimum. And when time came to start work on Familia, she forwent the standard pop music factory for a more intimate approach. The new album was made with just a handful of collaborators she could be open with. If Cabello was feeling anxious or nervous in a session, she had the space to address it. As a result, she says, it’s her best work yet.

“It’s the most grounded and calm I’ve ever been making an album,” she says. “I worked with people I wanted to have dinner with, and I was like, ‘I’m not going to write every single day for months, but write a few days a week and have time to gather experiences and be a human being.’”

Shawn Mendes is one of the people she’s gathering experiences with. The two singers confirmed their relationship in September 2019, and they’ve been tabloid magnets ever since. Everything from their laughably slow pandemic walks to their kissing style is dissected with a fine-tooth comb. A clip of them getting ready for the Met gala went instantly viral.

Cabello tells me she and Mendes try to avoid the social media chatter about their relationship, but it inevitably seeps in. “When stuff that’s negative is out there, it’s going to get to you,” she says. “So yeah, that’s very, very challenging. I feel like it’s another thing therapy has been really helpful for.”

Mendes goes to therapy too. While Cabello says she and Mendes haven’t done couples therapy—though she’d be open to it—they very much work on their mental health together.

“For better, for worse, we’re very transparent with each other. I think that’s why we can trust each other so much, because it’s a very 3D human relationship,” she says. “I’ll be venting or ranting about something, and he’ll be like, ‘Have you talked to X about it?’ And I’ll be like, ‘No. I’ve got to do a session.’ And he’ll do the same thing to me. I think even just the language of being like, ‘Hey, I’m sorry that I’ve been distant with you or snappy with you. I’m just struggling and I’m feeling kind of anxious.’ That level of transparency really helps a lot.”

Mendes echoes Cabello’s thoughts. “Camila and I give each other an extreme amount of patience and understanding,” he tells me via email. “I think the truth is that when you’re struggling with mental health, it turns you sometimes into the version of yourself that you don’t like to be—and kind of loving and accepting your person through that, and being there for them through that, is life-changing. We give each other so much space and understanding and patience.”

A behind-the-scenes VMAs story perfectly illustrates this. When Cabello was nervous meeting new people at an after-party, she caught herself leaning on a habit she’s trying to break. Mendes helped her through it.

“I have this pattern of eating a lot when I’m anxious or uncomfortable,” she says. “It’s a comfort thing for me. I’ll just kind of become unconscious and zombie-eat a lot, and then I’ll feel sick. I’ve told Shawn about that. So at the VMAs party, I was like, ‘I’m doing it.’ And he was like, ‘It’s okay. You’re doing it. That’s okay. Let’s just take a breath and not do that.’ It’s really good for me to be able to talk about my patterns with someone.”

Food and body image are two things that have really been on Cabello’s mind this year. A July TikTok she posted shutting down body-shamers racked up 4.8 million likes. “Being at war with your body is so last season,” she says in the video, which she posted after photos of her running in Los Angeles made the rounds online.

That mantra is true, sure, but it’s easier said than done. Even Cabello has difficulty following it. She braced herself for what she might feel when those aforementioned bikini pics went live: “I need to work out. I need to eat better.” “Not that those things are bad,” she says. “But maybe I wouldn’t think about them as much if there weren’t people taking pictures of me.”

It’s not just the paparazzi who ignite moments of self-doubt. Cabello tells me about a time she was exercising with her trainer, Jenna Willis—who’s great, she says—and feeling insecure. “She’s the same height as me, and I was kind of comparing myself to her, because she is a lot skinnier than I am,” she recalls. “I was just like, ‘Yeah, but I’ve been working out and I look better, right? I look better, right?’”

It’s Willis who helped silence those voices in Cabello’s head, reminding her that how she feels is more important than appearances; that life is about balance and enjoying food. These are health philosophies we’ve all heard—but when you’re Camila Cabello and millions are picking apart your beach photos, it’s hard to tune out the noise. Now when she’s feeling down on herself, she just turns her phone off and goes outside.

“When I’m having negative thoughts about my body, that’s actually when I’ll want to binge-eat cookies, and then I have a stomachache,” she says. “It’s this weird psychology: The more I love my body, the more I actually want to take care of it…. As long as I’m healthy and working out and feel good, that’s the best I can do. There’s no point in trying to have another kind of body.”

By this point in our conversation, Cabello’s made it to her destination. When I ask if she’ll have time to chill and decompress, she says, “To be honest, not yet, but I will after this weekend.” There’s a calmness in her voice when she says this—a stillness, a readiness. She seems perfectly prepared for what lies ahead: album promo, performances, and undoubtedly more scrutiny about her body, her relationship, her everything. But she’ll be fine, because just around the corner is a day off. That’s nonnegotiable.

“It’s important to be on top of not just what’s making you sad or anxious, but also what’s giving you joy,” she says. “I want to be happy and enjoy my life. That’s kind of it.”

#camila cabello #shawn mendes #shawmila

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tessandscottforever18 · 3 years

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Or so she thought. Somehow the paparazzi found out where she was for those 120 minutes. She didn’t see them at first, but there they were, snapping away.

Mendes goes to therapy too. While Cabello says she and Mendes haven’t done couples therapy—though she’d be open to it—they very much work on their mental health together.

“It’s important to be on top of not just what’s making you sad or anxious, but also what’s giving you joy,” she says. “I want to be happy and enjoy my life. That’s kind of it.”

#camila cabello #interview: glamour #glamour #glamour magazine

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reliciron · 4 years

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Notes on Redeeming Arcann: Part 1

Ok, here are my thoughts on redeeming Arcann. This is just my own current analysis of his character and where I might take him in possible future fics. If someone has a different interpretation I would love to hear it as my own ideas on him continue to shift. If anyone is struggling with his character, I hope this might give you a starting point or jog some new ideas. And if you’re just reading this because you like character analysis (I do too), then I hope you enjoy it and it’s not too incoherent.

This first part will focus more on redeeming Arcann. The second will be my thoughts on his character motivations.

Part 2

Alright, this is going to be very, very long, so strap in.

Ok, so since I don’t have a lot of experience writing, I felt my own grasp of what it takes to redeem a villain was a little too shaky to do Arcann’s redemption justice on my own. He’s admittedly a pretty horrific character at his worst, and the game itself really doesn’t do a very good job of giving him a believable redemption arc. I feel it would be very easy for an inexperienced writer like me to fall into character apologia and try to ignore what he’s done in favor of ‘it’s not his fault’. Fiction is full of men who act like jerks and excuse it with daddy issues, and I’m really trying to carry that awareness into his redemption so I can avoid that pitfall. The atrocities he committed were his choices, but understanding why he became a character who would make those choices does not mean that he wasn’t ultimately at fault for what he did.

So with that in mind I did a quick search, looked through a few guides on redemption, and eventually settled on this one.

In an effort to make this smooth, I have copy/pasted the major points from the article and put them in brackets with my responses following each one.

[Realism is derived from a multitude of factors, but one of the most important is having authentic motives. Villainy is a dark path for a reason – it’s hard to come back from – which is why you need a super-bright ‘why’ torch to help your baddie see the light.

The best way to create a ‘why’ (or a motive) is to understand where it comes from. For example:

Maybe your villain wants a bigger pay off and this is how he thinks he will get it

He could be taking an order from someone more powerful

A more emotional reason might be that the hero appeals to his heart by saving someone the villain cares about

Or perhaps the villain just wants to right a wrong or past mistake]

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Ok, so Arcann has a little of the last 2 of those reasons. Now that he’s gone through the Force Healing dishwasher, he wants to try and make up for all the horrible things he did (Mostly the people he killed for shits and giggles while hunting down the Outlander. War is war, and he might not beat himself up over the people he personally killed on the battlefield. They made the choice to be soldiers/Jedi/Sith, and they knew they might die when they went up against him.)

He was also swayed by the Outlander letting him and Senya go, and how they cared for her while he was figuring things out.

-----

[Whatever the plot point for justifying your villain’s redemption, you can create added depth to their motive by linking it to an old wound in his past.]

-----

His mother left, and it’s possible that he still wonders what would have happened if he and his siblings had gone with her (I can’t remember if he touched on this in one of his cut-scenes during KOTFE). But more importantly, no one has ever come back for him except his brother. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t expect Vaylin to care about him enough to help him unless it benefits her, so after Thexan’s death he feels like he’s alone and nobody would miss him if he died. And that’s… really not a good place to be.

He doesn’t feel connected to his people since I doubt he ever saw much of them while growing up, so it’s easier to treat them like dirt if he can’t empathize with them. Also, the closest person to him, and the only one he seems to care about, is Vaylin, and she’s even more messed up than him so they just echo each other’s cruelty and drive each other to new heights of awfulness.

So that’s why it’s so important to him and game changing that his mom shows up after he’s been defeated.

Now the scene in KotFE goes like this: Senya finds Arcann dead (unconscious) and pinned under a bunch of debris. She drags him out and cries because she thinks he’s dead. Then Vaylin shows up, and while Senya is focused on her, Arcann blinks awake. Vaylin starts to attack, and Arcann stops her. Blah blah blah, Senya saves Arcann because he tried to protect her and she “feels the good in him”.

Ok.

(Keep in mind, my computer chugs much worse if I have the background music on, so I always play with it off. So scenes that maaaaay be relying too much on the music to carry the emotional weight, don’t have that crutch to lean on when I see them.)

Putting aside some dumb stuff, like why didn’t Senya sense that he was alive, and why didn’t she “sense the good in him” until after he pushed Vaylin away, here’s a few tweaks I might make:

Senya finds Arcann badly injured and pinned under debris. She realizes that he’s still breathing so she drags him out, sits down, and cradles him in her arms. She fully expects that he’s going to die, and her resolve crumbles. She rocks him gently and sings to him, her voice breaking here and there as the ship comes apart around them. She left her children once, and she refuses to leave Arcann again. She’s going to stay with him until he succumbs to his wounds, or the ship disintegrates.

To her surprise, he begins to wake. He turns his head into her chest, instinctively remembering her voice and the way she’d sing when comforting him and his brother after a painful day of training. He opens his eyes blearily with a mumbled “Mother?”. And now, finally, after years of being apart, she senses the conflict in him. Buried under years of pain and rage, is the tiny flicker of the boy she used to know.

The ship shudders underneath them and she makes her choice.

She hauls him up and throws his remaining arm over her shoulders. He can barely support his own weight and is fading in and out of consciousness as she drags him off the dais. They’re almost to the door when Vaylin appears and cuts them off.

Senya pleads with her, but Vaylin refuses to see reason and moves to kill her. Senya tries to throw Arcann out of the way, but the minute his arm is clear he manages to force push Vaylin away, where she appears to be crushed under falling debris.

Senya can’t save both of them, but she didn’t feel any conflict in Vaylin. So she chooses Arcann and takes him to the shuttle.

After they’re far enough away, Vaylin comes to in a rage, only to find that she’s missed her chance. She too, escapes in a patrol vessel.

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[Epiphany Redemption

Sometimes we don’t realize we have bad habits until someone tells us or we suddenly become aware of them. One of the most famous epiphany redemption examples is Scrooge going through an awakening. With the help of the Christmas ghosts, he’s shown the impact of his actions which causes him to see that he’s been leading a terrible life. The end of the story show him as a changed man, being kind and charitable to others.]

----

This sounds like what happened to Arcann.

It could be that with his mind clouded with pain and a likely concussion, he forgets his anger enough to think that, if his mother cared enough to save him and feels there’s still good in him, maybe there is.

It could be worked into the healing ritual, instead of this nebulous “light sapping the dark from him while he lays unconscious” thing. It could be that the ritual lifts all of his emotional baggage up so that he can view his past choices through a clear lens. Kind of A Christmas Carol speed-run, where his actions flash by in his mind and the horror of what he’d become slowly builds and replaces some of the rage. So the healing ritual doesn’t cure him of the darkness, so much as it’s a cold dose of the reality of his actions without the rage and bad justifications covering it up. The pain and rage is still there, and he’ll have to deal with it naturally later (get that boy a THERAPIST), but it no longer gets in the way of his decision making and he’s free to make better choices.

This explains why he was so panicked when he woke up that he didn’t notice his mother was still alive. And her “death” was just one more horrible thing he’s done. That even in healing, he still manages to kill the people close to him.

(It’s also why I always take the choice to tell him that Senya’s still alive right before he flies away, to spare him from that extra self hatred.)

-----

[It takes time. Just as a hero takes an entire novel to overcome her flaw, it will take some time for a villain to make this monumental change. Don’t let them flip-flop like a beached fish between good and evil – the change needs to build slowly throughout the book.]

----

I think this is the main issue that a lot of people seem to have with Arcann’s redemption. The healing ritual was such a hand-wavy “ok he’s better now” cop-out for what would normally be months or years of interesting character development.

I understand of course. This is a game, not a book series. There isn’t time to give Arcann the kind of focus that sort of development needs, and they weren’t allowed to weave his redemption too much into the story because not everyone spares him.

We can lessen the impact of this by ignoring some canon things and writing around others, but it would take a major rewrite of a large chunk of KotET to integrate this point.

-----

[Foreshadow, foreshadow, foreshadow. Readers don’t like to be cheated. You need to drop breadcrumbs throughout your story to let your reader know subconsciously that the villain is going to change, otherwise they’ll feel cheated. It doesn’t take much – the occasional soft glance from the villain, a nicely spoken sentence, and action that is ‘good’ rather than evil. Tiny clues.]

-----

There were tiny hints here and there, but not really enough for my taste and they were very easy to miss.

Some examples I can think of are:

He sort of yells at Vaylin at one point and without her saying anything, he immediately backs off, calms his voice down, and tells her that he’s not blaming her. She’s flippant about it, but it made it clear that he cares about her enough to treat her with respect and what little affection he’s capable of at that point.

@swtorpadawan made a good point in this post about how Arcann’s hesitation in destroying the Gravestone might’ve been because he sensed his mother’s presence.

And while I don’t think it was supposed to be hesitation on Arcann’s part, just the game forgetting about the time as we are shown Koth lining up the shot, he technically DID hesitate in killing the Outlander after he stabbed them (assuming you refused Valkorian’s power). There was a decent length of time where he had them, mortally wounded and defenseless, and he hesitated so long that Koth discovered the scene, figured out a plan, and shot out that big thing on the ceiling.

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[Don’t make it easy. It’s hard for the hero to overcome her flaw and likewise, it should be hard for a villain to overcome his. A quick way to make it harder for the villain to redeem himself is to catch him between two of his values. For example, while this character isn’t a villain, it still illustrates the point: Ned Stark in Game of Thrones values loyalty and wisdom – his wisdom tells him if he helps his King it will inevitably lead to his death, and yet, his loyalty forces him to help the King anyways.]

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This one is closely tied to the “it takes time” point, and is also horribly ignored in the story. Once he’s healed he’s practically a different person. Now I don’t know if it’s because they didn’t devote much time to his writing since he’s an optional character, or if they meant to write him like this, but it’s still unfortunate.

He strikes me as determined and ruthless (like his mom). His interaction with Thexan and his commitment to the Outlander seems to imply that he’s loyal once he’s found someone worthy of it. He’s intelligent, but can be arrogant sometimes (of course this will have been knocked down a few pegs since the Outlander kicked his ass).

An easy point of conflict between his values (especially soon after he joins the Alliance), would be between his loyalty to the Outlander and his ruthlessness.

He could be on a mission with the Outlander, and have an enemy defeated but alive. The Outlander might want to spare them, while his ruthlessness demands their death. He knows how people like this work, that sparing them is a good way to get stabbed in the back, and if the Outlander is too softhearted to look out for themselves then he will.

BUT the Outlander is showing him trust by letting him accompany them, both trust that Arcann won’t kill them and that he will follow orders. Their trust is extremely precious to him (especially if he’s already crushing on the Outlander) so he really wants to do as they say.

He’s forced to balance their trust against his need to protect them.

------

[Don’t let them go soft. Villains are villains for a reason. Keep them authentic by retaining some of their sharper personality edges. Just because their actions are good doesn’t mean the whole of them will be.]

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I feel like this one is especially important, and also terribly overlooked.

Arcann learned some bad habits while being a villain and even when growing up, some of those should carry over into his healed self.

They might lessen with time and careful retraining, but he will always have sharp edges.

He will probably have a temper (although this must be handled very carefully to avoid making him look childish and abusive).

And if someone he cares about is threatened he may fly into a rage until they can calm him down. This rage may be followed by flashbacks of the battles he’s been through and the way the hatred felt in his gut, leaving him panicked and shaky once it’s over.

He probably has nightmares regularly, and care must be taken in waking him up to avoid a violent response, same thing with sneaking up on him: DON”T.

Honestly, the dude went through so much and did so many horrible things that I don’t see how he wouldn’t have PTSD. He certainly has self-hatred up to his eyeballs.

-------

One more thing:

Once he’s joined the Alliance, I think we need to be careful when writing him to make sure that his goal of trying to make up for the horrible things he’s done isn’t overlooked. I mean yeah, he’s helping by coming along on missions with the Commander, but that is super small time stuff compared to what he’s done and I don’t think he’d be satisfied with it for long.

He’s an intelligent man with experience commanding armies on the battlefield, and an extremely talented Force-user. At minimum, and when not accompanying the Outlander, he should spend most of his day immersed in Alliance reports giving tactical advice (once they trust him enough, of course) and helping with combat training in the Force Enclave. When they trust him more, he can maybe become the official liaison between the Alliance and Zakuul, using the resources and tech of his home world to help the reconstruction on the planets he bombarded and getting Zakuul what they need as well.

Of course, once the Republic/Empire war starts up again, his position will change and he may take on a more military role, commanding offensives on behalf of whichever side the Alliance has picked.

My point is, wallowing in emotional hurt/comfort and developing romance is really fun and satisfying, but don’t forget his promise to atone for his misdeeds.

#swtor #arcann #redeeming a villain #writing #relicwrites #kotfe #kotet #arcann tirall

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ryuukia · 5 years

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[Translation] Tsukiuta. -if- Black Rabbits Kingdom Booklet Novel: Afternoon

I promised I’d finish this before the year ends, so here’s it is (this emotional rollercoaster). This is the last chapter in the black novel.

I’m not sure if Ruby moved past page 1 in the white novel but I guess we’ll figure out together how to work on it.

Special thanks to @ryota-kunstranslations and @moonlit-manifesto for assistance and proofreading. Please don’t repost/reuse my translations!

“Ahhhh……, having some black tea after work is delicious.”

As he elegantly held the beautifully shaped teacup in his hand - a present from the Western Kingdom of Cats - I was unable to directly see his smile.

“G-good work today, Haru-san.”

Kakerun, Kakerun, your face is so puffed up.

That’s what I thought, but there’s no way I could point that out.

Because after all, I have the same expression myself.

On the other hand, Aoi-san and Hajime-san who were sitting next to him, were sporting bitter smiles.

The only one who’s unchanged is Arata…… The one who disrupted that silent atmosphere.

No, he probably wasn’t even thinking at all.

“Haru-san, you’re in top shape today as usual.”

“That’s right. We had pretty good accomplishments. No…… Actually I have two or three stories though.”

“Haru, don’t overdo it too much.”

“If the king says so. Then I’ll keep this ace up my sleeve for the next time something similar happens.”

As he said those words with a grin, the smiles imprinted on Kakeru’s face and mine hardened.

Today, a very important meeting was organized in order to decide the budget of the next fiscal year.

However, today’s topics can only be considered as some sort of opening ceremony, including a general estimation of the amount of money for each branch. For about the next ten days, all of the details will be worked out. Even right now, a mountain of official papers containing enormous numbers is currently piled up in the room next to Hajime-san’s office.

Just by looking at that mountain of documents from distance, I somehow feel a light shiver running through my body. I heard Hajime-san and Haru-san speak while they are focused on those reports.

‘Since the basics are already set inside our heads, we don’t really have to look over the documents, you know? These are only needed for information sharing and formality’s sake.’

Despite having the usual and other things being explained in such a smooth manner, that afternoon I came to realize that the king and the prime-minister are to be eternally unreachable.

(Ah wait, even so, I was told that the other countries’ kings and prime-ministers are far from being like that! These two here are just on an entirely different level! There’s no way it means I’m falling behind, that’s what it is, yeah!)

…… Wait, I’m straying from the topic.

In any case, that important meeting took place, but at the very end of it, today’s main conflict.... or rather, how Haru-san divided the money himself caused a public hearing.

No, I’ll make this clear.

I call it a public hearing, but in reality it’s more accurate to call it a “public execution”.

The other party consisted of some shady merchants that were caught for tax evasion, based on an investigation conducted days ago.

Furthermore, it seems that a huge amount of money was stolen that way, and the gentle Haru-san outright lost his temper when we found out they’d been selling weapons on a large scale in order to incite wars with other countries.

In the end, there was a public execution but, …...yeah, in any case, it was scary. It really was.

There’s no doubt everyone was thinking about those attendants that came out from that meeting.

(The crime is not worth the price…...)

I swore in my heart that even in poverty I’d live a pure and upstanding life, I sure did.

“Haru, sometimes you gain too many victories.” Hajime-san said slowly.

During that meeting, he stood on his throne in the centre and watched over the process without saying too much.

Despite not knowing why, I stretched my back.

The words uttered by Hajime-san always have a deep significance to them and seem to accumulate within me.

It feels like one day they will become my own source of encouragement.

“Although it was a good fight and you were victorious, don’t overdo it. There’s no need for you to make enemies.”

As he heard Hajime-san’s words, Haru-san smiled bitterly.

“Ye~s, that’s right. I get it. I know, it’s a bad habit. But even so……”

Haru-san had said before that he hated wars.

Especially wars started for no good reason because of humans’ selfish desire to shed blood. Those are things he’s unable to forgive.

“No matter the country, every king is working desperately to build a peaceful world where living quietly is natural. But, you won’t be given benefits just by being there. On top of the service given to you, hurting other people with what you do is simply unforgivable.

He spoke calmly, but hearing Haru-san, who is always gentle and kind, saying such strong words as “I hate” and “unforgivable” surprised me a little.

I guess he noticed that.

Haru-san looked at me and said “Sorry”.

That made me remember.

If I’m not wrong, Haru-san came from an orphanage that rescued war orphans.

This country was also dragged into a war for three years until Hajime-san became the king, and since then it’s been peaceful like calm waters.

Until a while ago, people had nothing else to focus on except fighting.

(...... There were a lot of casualties.)

Haru-san muttered only a few words.

“Because of personal circumstances, I guess I lose my temper sometimes.”

While saying so, Haru-san’s imposing ears lowered a bit.

I shook my head in a hurry.

“But, looking at it now, I feel relieved. Haru-san wasn’t wrong. Besides, I’m sure the reason why Haru-san got angry is a gentle one!”

“Koi……”

The one who laughed was Aoi-san.

“Ahaha. The truth is that I feel sorry for those teary-eyed merchants, though I’m also relieved.”

If Aoi-san opens his mouth, even the slightest dull mood would be quickly dispelled and cleansed.

As one would expect, he’s the symbol of luck the entire country is proud of and a real sparkling prince.

His cleansing powers in this kind of situation are splendid.

“The measures taken for the crime they committed are legally justified. The measures aren’t misplaced and I think that in this way, this will be a good discipline for those kinds of people. Right, Hajime-san?”

Upon being asked for agreement, Hajime-san laughed abruptly without missing a beat.

I felt the temperature around me rise instantly.

“Well…… I guess you’re right. There was no incorrect word in your judgement this time to begin with, so all the merits for discovering both the tax evasion and the business they did behind our backs go to you. …… You helped a great deal. Good work, Haru.”

Any person from this country knows that the consoling words and compliments coming from the king are, probably, magical words meant to uplift your spirit.

“Thank you. Aoi-kun, and Hajime too.”

Seeing Haru-san laughing with his usual gentle expression made me sigh in relief.

The moment that I felt relieved, I felt hungry. I took a bite from the homemade apple pie in front of me that Aoi-san had just sliced.

The aromatic fragrance of the flaky crust tickles the tip of my nose and makes me happy.

As soon as I started to chew, the apple pie’s flavour started to overflow in my mouth and the sweet syrup made my head quiver.

“Nn~~~~”

Sweet, but not heavy.

No matter how many slices I have, I can go confidently through the entire hall and say this is the most delicious pie.

If he were to open a shop, that shop would have queues just to get in, there’s no mistake.

(And if Aoi-san’s face were to be on the shop window, it would be impossible to buy without reservation.)

I ended up thinking how people who can do anything are amazing, about how delicious the apple pie was, about other things I was impressed by, and just like that, I quickly finished eating.

But even so, I can still go on.

Another helping! Thus, I stretched my hand triumphantly towards the piece I’d been eyeing since forever……

“Ah!?”

A hand stretching from my side managed to get it before I did, making me unconsciously shriek.

Nevertheless, the owner of that hand didn’t hesitate at all to smoothly bring the pie to his mouth.

“Aaand, it’s gone!! Wait, Arata! I wanted that one! You absolutely saw I was about to grab it, didn’t you!?”

Arata looked at me in a dull manner after swallowing with a gulp what he was chewing and said:

��First come, first served.”

He snorted at me and then continued laughing.

(Darn it!)

“You’re right! You’re right! But to think that it was taken by you, it makes me angry!”

“What’s with that. There are more left, so just eat another one. Let’s see, you should eat the most delicious one there.”

“That’s Hajime-san’s! Hajime-san’s been thinking of having that slice since a while ago, it’s obvious!”

“......”

“Hajime-san, it’s alright. I was already thinking of giving it to you later but, don’t worry, you weren’t being completely obvious at all!”

“Kakeru, you’re applying salt to the wound, you really are.”

I stood up from my seat trembling, but still acted cool while my partner Kakerun and Haru-san comforted Hajime-san.

So I faced my nemesis, and declared.

“It’s a duel, Arata! I’ll take you on for that pie grudge!”

…...It’s decided.

To the sir with the camera, if you want to take a photo, do it now.

“The one who’s going to regret this is you……. Okay then, what’s the duel?”

Arata replied glaring, and then stood up from his seat like it was a chore to move.

“Swordsmanship, of course! After all, Koi-kun here has recently developed a special killer technique to go with his powers!”

As soon as he heard about a ‘killer technique’, I felt Arata get spirited.

“What was that, so cool! …...Just joking, now bring it on, c’mon! I have hundreds and hundreds of killer techniques!”

“They’re hundreds only if they’re actually successful.”

“Aoi, be quiet.”

“Ah, okay.”

As we noisily bickered, we went out into open space in the middle of the vast courtyard.

Hajime-san and the others didn’t really say anything since the reason why we are crashing into each other is not to hurt the opponent, but to improve our skills for when we’ll have to protect others or ourselves, and also because it’s relatively a common sight.

How should I put it, Hajime-san’s ears were still lowered and Haru-san was grinning.

I wonder why.

Well, it doesn’t matter.

I may not be the smartest or the most sparkling and radiant.

But even so, the fact that I love this country gives me an unbreakable confidence. Bigger than anyone else’s.

So……

“The one to defend the Black Rabbits Kingdom’s peace will be me!”

La fin

Every man’s life is a fairy-tale written by God’s finger.

#tsukiuta #tsukino production #rabbits kingdom #Black Rabbits Kingdom Novel #english translation #six gravity #mutsuki hajime #kisaragi koi #yayoi haru #uduki arata #satsuki aoi #shiwasu kakeru #at the beginning i was like okay haru being hyped because of work in not unusual #but then haru lost his tempter AND WOW THAT'S NEW??#then haru's sad backstory hNNNNN #in the end we got rabbits roasting each other #to be honest i laughed writing the nemesis line XDDD

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frailesea · 5 years

Text

BACKGROUND IDENTIFICATION :

AKAYUKI KIYOHIME.

— this gets long, so everything will be under a read more because i don’t want to kill your dashes !

kiyohime was born into a small, poor village, like they didn’t have many people who would visit or generally find them with the intention of finding them. because they weren’t a very big, powerful village, kiyo’s parents had her dress & pretend to be a boy. it wasn’t TOO serious ; the other occupants of the village knew she was a girl pretending to be a boy, but village outsiders with no intention of being there long term didn’t know. they did this to protect her from people who may have harmful intentions to the village ; not much focus would be given to any possible vulnerability or fragility because they wouldn’t know that she’s a girl. & kiyo had no problem with this. & the other kids treated her like a boy, & she liked it. she could basically do whatever she wanted with no big repercussions. because she was so used to casually acting as a boy, there was no need to inform her of people who was coming or had come to the village.

there wasn’t a huge number of families within their small village, but there were a lot of kids. when kiyo had been 9, pirates came to their village. there wasn’t much damage done in their visit, but they had conditions : all the first born sons come with them. that’s all, that’s what they wanted. begrudgingly, the village agreed by those conditions & gave them what they wanted. 6 kids came with them : yasura ( 15 ), haruka ( 12 ), ao ( 11 ), hachirou ( 10 ), kiyo ( 9 ), botan ( 7 ). they all knew that they were going with the pirates, & they were surprisingly really calm while it was happening ; they other kids were those who were frantic as well as the parents.

they went with the pirates. the very prominent thing that they all noticed was that the captain’s name was never permitted to be said on the ship or around any of them --- he was just ‘ captain. ’ he thought himself to be much more superior to the kids he took. he didn’t like shows of weakness, & he exploited those he saw. for example, fairly quickly, the captain found out of kiyo’s phobia of deep, open waters when he made it a game to throw the kids off the ship & into the water. he saw this ; he continued to do this to kiyo much more than the other kids --- ‘ you have to get over this somehow, mm ? ’ & botan’s body was very sensitive to dirty food, or things he consumed. because he refused to eat everything or drink a lot of what they had available, his body became more fragile to the suffering they went through. though, kiyo was able to get him to eat & hydrate whenever he was in dire need of sustenance.

they all took on different roles for one another while they were there. yasura was the leader ; he generally gave them instructions & scoldings when he didn’t see they were taking care of themselves & each other, or even putting them in avoidable trouble. haruka made sure they were well ; he was everyone’s big brother. he comforted them, made sure they were healthy enough, & he even put himself through trouble so the others wouldn’t be in trouble. he was the main person taking care of botan while botan was weak. ao relayed information he would hear to yasura, & he was very protective of kiyo. while kiyo would give away her food to haruka or botan, he would make sure she would eat enough to sustain herself. also, he was one of the people who would help keep her status as a boy, often times averting the subject or doing something to break concentration ( this was something hachirou would do also. ).

ao was also very charming. if the captain & crew did less to anyone, it’d be ao ; he learned how to avert their hostility & cruel mischief. hachirou was the quiet little errand boy. he kinda did what everyone else wanted, broke tension, even if to quell tension gathered from someone else. kiyo stood up for him a lot, even averted much of his own conflict to herself. in addition to that, kiyo became the person who the captain & crew found most amusing to mess with because she was the one to defend the others & gave the most reaction ( especially when they’d throw her in the sea & have her beg to be brought back up. which then evolved into her becoming extremely aggressive & cocky when forced into the water. ). botan was just the baby of the kids, the one everyone else had to protect because he couldn’t do that for himself. they would have to give him some of their food because, after the crew found out about his relationship to dirty food and substance, they’d give him the hardest time when feeding him.

but as close as they’d gotten to each other, good times don’t always last. bad situations can get much worse, & that happened to them. 10 months after they were taken, botan died from lack of nutrition & the condition of his body. 15 after they were taken, yasura died after taking up for haruka’s disobedience. haruka had gotten hurt when that happened, but he recovered well. hachirou died 21 months after they were taken, trying to escape on land & then being thrown out to the sea when they boarded the ship again, too far away from land for hachirou to have survived. haruka, ao, & kiyo were the ones left. according to the captain, there were also the most capable of the original 6. they never took this as a compliment ; perhaps kiyo was the only one to take this as subtle mockery. haruka had gotten more protective over the both of them, ao didn’t allow anyone the benefit of the doubt & held suspicion over all heads, & kiyo held a lot of negative emotions within herself at this time. kiyo had never honestly, truly hated anyone before, but she hated the captain of the ship. she hated him ; she hated his first mate. she hated even those who seemed to hold a buddy -- buddy relationship with him.

kiyo would tell them how she was going to kill the captain one day. when they didn’t have ears & eyes on them, the few times they had what they could to themselves. kiyo was noticeably much sharper, much more hostile. the captain didn’t mind --- if he had a favorite, it had to be kiyo. it’d been a habit to tell her that she’d become a terrible man one day, but a great pirate. it’d always been her response to spit at him. haruka & ao would always scold her in private ; she’d scorn the both of them, sneer at their worried faces but apologize mere moments after. she understood their plight, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be careful. but she was careful enough to not anger the captain too terribly. besides, they were kids. what harm could they do.

haruka died during their encounter with another ship 34 months after they were taken. kiyo tried to protect both him & ao because they both were injured & tired. she attempted to keep haruka alive at least through the night, but that didn’t happen. after he died, kiyo shifted her complete focus to ao.

with ao being in a much more fragile condition, kiyo took over more duties that used to be distributed between the 3 of them. because ao was weaker & worse in condition, they fed him less & seemed to toss him off to the side. there were constant jeers of ao’s condition, & this often brought a reaction to her features that the crew thought ugly & unnecessary. the captain wasn’t much fond of her, but he clearly thought kiyo to be one of his future crew members. he’d never quite say it, but he always had this way of speaking that mirrored the other members of the crew when addressing her, & she hated it. she wasn’t under him, never.

4 years after they’d came on the ship, she killed the captain & first mate. they had another encounter with a ship, & kiyo kept ao safe from any violence that happened. she came out when the conflict was finished, & she made sure there wasn’t much directionless movement around the ship before defining the captain & first mate’s position. the first mate was injured & securing supplies below deck ; she waited until he was in an area alone & used the supplies to knock him unconscious. while he was unconscious, she made sure to kill him while he was unconscious, & she kept him near the first room of supplies. she took the first mate’s knife & went to the where she thought the captain might be : the map room, & she was right. she knocked on the door when she was sure there was no one around, & she called out so he was aware that it was her. when he opened the door, she lunged forward & stabbed him deep in his stomach, dragging the blade in multiple directions. & of course, he hadn’t been expecting that. after a few minutes of dealing with that, she ensured his death & called the crew’s attention. she showed his body before throwing him overboard. there were a few expressions of confused anger, but no one had really been angry the captain died ( he didn’t make it easy to miss him. ). a few asked where the first mate was, & she’s told them to go look where the supplies were. & she kept everyone else within her sight while they verified the first mate & his position : dead.

in that moment, kiyo’s authority put itself into place. not everyone was very conscientious of it, but it gradually happened over time after she made herself captain of the ship ( also daring everyone to challenge her on that decision, which no one did. ). ao was placed into a much more comfortable position, this was also when the crew was told by ao that she was just a girl pretending to be a boy ( which blew them out of their minds. ).

around this time as well, they’d found a small village beside the sea. it’d been a declining, nameless place that had no hope of anything past their lifeless village. after kiyo had found the village, she began setting it up as a harbor village with ao, both becoming a large addition to the village as a whole & the help there. & while they were there setting up the specifics, kiyo & ao decided that he would remain at the village while she would be at sea with the ship crew ( also, the ship’s name is ‘ the revolution. ’ ). before they left the first time after helping the village, it was named aoyuki & ao was staying there while kiyo left. soon after, they’d come back to the village. throughout the first year, they would consistently come & go to monitor the village, & the village was content with the position they were in.

while the village became more alive & the harbor became more apparent & recognizable, they continued to monitor the success of their involvement. though, during one of their longer trips out to sea in the next year, ao died in an abrupt fire within the village during the night ( which kiyo believes to not have happened as accidentally as everyone believes. she does have enemies. ). but nothing much has changed since then. she’s become much more famous --- or infamous. either one, really. she remains as one of the monitors of the aoyuki harbor village, & she remains as captain of the revolution.

#background: akayuki kiyohime.#❪ ❁｡：akayuki kiyohime. ❫ — ° ≡ meta lore.#anyway this took 20 years bc its long as fuck and tbh .#at the end i got lazy so its rlly brief like more than the rest #ANYWAY #plot with kiyo #best captain

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aloha-solar · 3 years

Text

The Spaces Between the Stars: Five

tw/cw for brief mention of rape/sexual assault at the very end

Rating: M

Ao3 link

The world was too bright. Shepard opened her eyes and immediately squeezed them shut again. She could tell by the gentle beeping surrounding her that she was in a hospital. Judging by the number of tubes piercing her body, plus the cannula shoved up her nose, she was in a pretty bad state.

“You’re alive.” Tentatively, Shepard opened one eye again. It was still blinding, leaving a purple ring and black spots wherever she looked, but she knew she’d heard that voice before. “I told you to die when you were crawling for help.” Shepard winced and tried to sit up, forcing herself up onto her forearms. Bad idea. Not only did the pain suddenly turn itself up to eleven, making her gasp in pain, but all her monitors went from steady beeps to screaming alarms. Shepard fell back, sweating from the effort of sitting up, her teeth ground together to stop herself from screaming. She stared at the ceiling, feeling her head pound and her eardrums explode from the shrill alarms surrounding her. She didn’t know anyone entered the room until she felt a cool, gloved hand on her forehead. Its owner stepped into view and despite the pain, Shepard felt her lips turn up into a smile.

“Miranda,” she gasped out. Miranda gave her a warm smile back.

"We really should stop meeting like this, Shepard,” Miranda said. “Putting you back together has become quite a bad habit.”

“You don’t wanna go for a third round?” Shepard said. She coughed and sputtered after she spoke. Miranda pressed a button to move the bed into a sitting position, before reaching over to a side table and picking up a cup of water. She eased the straw past Shepard’s lips, and rubbed her back until Shepard stopped coughing long enough to take a sip.

“Sorry,” Shepard said.

“You shouldn’t be sorry,” Miranda said, putting the cup back on the side table. “You saved us all.”

“You didn’t save them all,” the other voice said. “You only saved organics, not synthetics.” Shepard winced again and pressed her hand to her forehead.

“Is it your implants?” Miranda asked. “It did take them almost six weeks to get you awake again. I’m sure there might be some side effects.”

“No, it’s not…I was out for six weeks?” Shepard said.

“Technically, you’ve been out for two and a half months,” Miranda corrected. “You didn’t start regaining consciousness until six weeks ago. Before then, you were completely unconscious. I think it’s because the implants went into some sort of hibernation mode while the rest of your body recovered and slowly came back online so that your nervous system wasn’t overloaded.”

“Is that a theory or do you know for sure?” Shepard asked.

“A little bit of both,” Miranda said. She pushed a few strands of Shepard’s hair back. “Your saving grace was that you didn’t look as bad as you did when I rebuilt you for the first time.”

“Oh, yeah?” Shepard said, chuckling and then gasping in pain. “I don’t know, it sure feels as bad as the first time.”

“Only you would have a first time, Shepard,” Miranda said. She gave Shepard another sip of the water before reclining the bed again. “I’d suggest you get some sleep. I’ve had all the Alliance knocking down the door the second there was a slight change in your condition, not to mention Jack’s practically been holding a vigil every night—”

“Didn’t I just wake up?” Shepard said. She tried to sit up again but Miranda put her hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back down.

“Yes, you did,” Miranda answered. “But they want to get you started on physical therapy as soon as possible—probably tomorrow—plus Hackett and the rest of the Alliance are going to interrogate you as to what happened on the Citadel, no doubt.”

“I see,” Shepard said. She swallowed. “What about the Normandy? They’re all okay, right? Kaidan and Garrus got hit by a Mako on the approach, and—”

“You should rest,” Miranda said, dimming the lights. “It won’t do you any good if you keep stressing like this, Shepard. If you need anything, just hit the call button.”

“Miranda—” Shepard protested, sitting up again, but Miranda already walked out the door. Shepard sighed, easing herself back onto her pillow. Miranda was right. She felt exhausted, and she’d been through enough physical therapy treatments to know that being exhausted was not exactly a benefit. Besides, if Hackett was—

“Your own crew didn’t even visit you,” the voice said. Shepard gasped as she finally made the connection as to who—or what—the voice belonged to.

“I thought you were supposed to be destroyed when the Crucible went off,” Shepard said, gritting her teeth. She was uncomfortable. There was a mass of bandages on her right side, meaning she couldn’t roll over and sleep in the position she wanted. Each time she moved, some part of her body started aching. The constant and burning urge to pee made her pretty certain that she had a catheter. And now she had to deal with the Catalyst.

“I was,” the Catalyst said. “But am I really here? Or are you feeling guilty about what you did?”

“Destroying the Reapers was the best option,” Shepard said.

“But why?”

“Because they were going to kill us!” Shepard said. She heard some of the machines start beeping rapidly again. Shepard swore, before taking several deep breaths and waiting until the machines calmed down with her. “I wasn’t going to let the rest of the galaxy die or get rewritten against their will. You said everyone would be synthesized—would that be husks, too? And brutes and marauders?”

“Of course,” the Catalyst said. “But wouldn’t that be better? With synthesis there would be no suffering, no pain. They would know that they were no longer organics, but they would accept that. Instead, you decided killing synthetics to save yourself was the best option.”

“You said that I’d be destroyed too,” Shepard snarled. “But I survived, so clearly you were wrong somewhere.”

“Because your organic parts must outweigh your synthetic ones,” the Catalyst replied. “But the others—the geth, EDI, Legion—do you think they deserved to die? Did you only destroy the Reapers because the other options ensured your death? You, who faced death so many times, are suddenly afraid of dying?”

“Don’t try and give me the bullshit guilt trip,” Shepard said. “The whole plan was to always destroy the Reapers. It wasn’t to fulfill the Illusive Man's power fantasy or the Reapers' ideal of a perfect life form. It was always to destroy them and you know it.”

“Did you actually gain anything?” the Catalyst snapped back. “You are once again at the will of a woman who saw no use for you beyond her own personal gain. The people you loved and trusted have not even attempted to see you.”

“You’re lying—” Shepard began, but the Catalyst cut her off.

“Am I? Where is Dr. T'Soni? Garrus Vakarian? Major Kaidan Alenko, the man who is supposedly the love of your life? If they cared about you, they would have never left your side.” Shepard squeezed her eyes shut. She knew that this version of the Catalyst wasn’t real—it was just her imagination—but God, why did it sound like the real thing?

“Perhaps it would have been better if you stay dead the first time,” the Catalyst continued. “Or if you died on Akuze. Or if you were captured by the batarians on Mindoir. Because that’s all organics do: serve their own interests, even if others get in the way. They held you up as a savior, but you are not anything special. You followed the exact same pattern that all organics follow, failing to see outside your own flawed bubble. Perhaps if someone else made it to the beam, they would have thought for the good of the many, but instead the flawed organic made it instead, and thought for the needs of the few.”

“I did think for the needs of the many,” Shepard whispered. “I saved every race in the galaxy.”

“Legion had over a thousand units living inside it,” the Catalyst said. “And the Reapers stored countless civilizations. The geth alone very likely had more units inside them than the entire population of the Milky Way. And you let them die.”

“Shut up,” Shepard said, tears squeezing out from behind her lids. She pressed the button Miranda left her frantically. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

When Miranda came barging into Shepard's room a few minutes later, she assumed the tears were from pain. Shepard didn’t bother to correct her, feeling relieved that Miranda decided to stick her with a sedative so that she could get some sleep. Still, even as Shepard let herself drift away into a haze, the Catalyst’s words still rattled around her head.

It would have been better if you'd died.

As harsh and cruel as it was…could it be right?

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

The physical therapy was torture, as Shepard expected: the doctors noticed that Shepard could sit up without issue, so they started trying to get her standing up and walking. Shepard knew she had to do it (the alternative option of losing her mobility in general was ten million times worse than the pain) but it felt difficult working without the rest of the crew. Garrus and Wrex would have teased her as she stumbled across the room with Liara at her side, trying to help her keep her balance. Tali would have tried to create a walker that moved on its own without Shepard needing to put her body weight on it as James told her a million stories about all the times that he had to use a walker, with nine-hundred and ninety-nine thousand of them turning out to be fake. Joker would have cracked jokes about how Shepard's bones were weaker than the most crippled man in the galaxy, while Javik would have said that the primitives were so weak in this cycle, they hadn’t even figured out how to make their walkers float.

And Kaidan? He'd be at her side too, but he'd be encouraging her with every step she took, giving her a wink or a peck on the cheek whenever Liara looked away. He'd laugh at Joker and James’ jokes, he'd argue with Garrus and Wrex about Shepard's resemblance to a pyjak, he'd tell Tali that it would be better for Shepard to actually support her own body weight but would thank her for trying, he’d ignore Javik until the very last moment where he would pick Shepard up and say that the primitives didn’t need floating walkers when he could just carry Shepard around everywhere. And then later, when the rest of the crew left, he’d stay behind and reassure her that she was doing fine, no matter how slowly she was progressing. He’d promise to stay by Shepard’s side no matter what, until they were both old and grey.

But instead of Kaidan and the rest of her crew, Shepard faced doctors and physical therapists speaking with cloying voices, like she was a child. She dealt with Jack and Miranda bickering again, even though most of Jack’s students were out of the hospital and Miranda still needed to run tests on Shepard’s implants. She gave forced smiles during Jacob’s video calls, watching his relationship with Brynn bloom while trying to ignore the stabbing feelings of jealousy that sat in her stomach whenever they looked at each other. She nibbled at the boxes of chocolate Zaeed and Kasumi got for her and said that they each had excellent taste in candy, even though Zaeed ate his way through half the box by the time he ever gave it to Shepard, while Kasumi found chocolate that was so rich Shepard could barely lick it without sending herself into a diabetic coma. She tried to meditate when Samara came to visit, but Shepard always found her mind wandering: if Samara suggested that Shepard picture herself on a beach, Shepard’s mind immediately dashed to Virmire; if she suggested a forest, Mindoir; her bed, the last night she spent with Kaidan. Shepard felt guilty when the door opened and it was never the people she expected, because she loved them as much as the rest of her crewmates. But she knew they were safe; could she say that for the rest of the Normandy crew?

“Your fault,” the Catalyst repeated each time Shepard’s mind landed on that thought. “If you had chosen to merge synthetic and organic life, then you would have no need to worry about your crew.”

But as torturous as physical therapy and the daydreams and the Catalyst were, none could quite compare to her meetings with Admiral Hackett. One day, about a week after Shepard woke up, Kasumi uncloaked herself out of nowhere.

“Does privacy not mean anything to you, Kasumi?” Miranda said, turning around. She’d pulled Shepard up into a sitting position to check some stitches on her chest, tugging the hospital gown to Shepard’s waist as she did. Shepard felt her face grow hot, but then again, she shouldn’t have been surprised: Kasumi did go through her drawers after all.

“Do you want me to come back later?” Kasumi said. “Because I can. On the other hand, I don’t think Admiral Hackett really cares about privacy anymore. He wants to see Shep today.”

“Today?” Miranda said.

“That’s what Kasumi said, right?” Shepard said, tugging the gown back over her chest.

“But you aren’t ready to deal with him,” Miranda said, scowling. “I want you to have at least walked three feet without a walker and had the catheter pulled out before he even thinks about coming in here.”

“The admiral isn’t really the type to wait,” Shepard said. “Especially if it’s big news. I’m surprised that he even gave you a week, Miranda.”

“I’m more surprised he hasn’t barged in here already,” Kasumi said. “But never mind that: what are you going to wear, Shep?” Shepard blinked. Kasumi chuckled at the expression on Shepard’s face. “Come on. You can’t exactly wear your Alliance blues, and as nice as that dress for Donovan Hock was, I don’t exactly think it’ll be the most comfortable outfit given your circumstances.”

“She was injured,” Miranda said through gritted teeth. “It’s a bloody miracle she isn’t dead, and we want to play paper dolls with her?”

“Can I at least just put on a bra and call it a day?” Shepard suggested. Kasumi and Miranda both looked at her before looking back at each other and rolling their eyes.

They compromised in the end: Kasumi was able to find a pair of old sweatpants and a faded Fleet and Flotilla tank-top. Miranda donated a sports bra that probably cost more credits than Shepard even hoped to see in her life. Shepard managed to pull her hair up into a loose ponytail (how had it gotten so long?) and gave her teeth a quick scrub. Miranda took one quick glance at Shepard in the minutes before Hackett walked in before grabbing a washcloth and rubbing it over Shepard’s face vigorously.

“Jesus, Miranda,” Shepard said, trying to pull her head away. Her efforts were met with Miranda holding onto Shepard’s chin with one hand while attacking her face with the washcloth with the other. “I’m not a kid.”

“It’s just to be safe,” Miranda said, breathing heavily. “What if the press come with him? You know Khalisah al-Jilani’s chomping at the bit to get a video of you.”

“I’m more worried about Diana Allers,” Kasumi said, shimmering into view. “Honestly, Shep, what were you thinking when you brought her onto the Normandy? At least, what were you thinking bringing her on without providing Jacob as eye-candy?” Shepard rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything. Miranda stepped away, satisfied with her handiwork, before turning back to Kasumi.

“Can you get an ETA as to when Admiral Hackett will be here?” Miranda asked just as the door opened.

“Right now,” Kasumi replied, cloaking herself. Miranda stood up to her full height, putting her hands behind her back. Shepard followed her lead, shoving her blankets back and sitting up as tall as she could. As Hackett turned around from closing the door, Shepard immediately saluted him.

“At ease, Commander,” he said, a note of humour in his voice. He saluted her instead. “Seeing as you’re the one who saved the galaxy, I think it’s fair to say that you deserve a salute more than I do.” Shepard put her hand down.

“I couldn’t have done it without my crew or the Alliance sir,” Shepard said. “If it hadn’t been for all of you, this war could never have been won.”

“It could have,” the Catalyst whispered in her ear. Shepard clasped it and tried to make a face that looked like she was grimacing in pain. “You were just foolish to consider only one option.”

“I appreciate your flattery, Commander,” Hackett said, looking genuinely surprised and proud that she even acknowledged the Alliance. Miranda coughed, and Hackett’s eyes glanced over to her.

“Miss Lawson,” he said. “I want to thank you for getting Shepard up and running again.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Miranda said.

“Best person for the job,” Shepard said, flashing Miranda a smile. Miranda gave her a small one back.

“Undoubtedly,” Hackett said. “We’ll have to find you a permanent position in one of our labs, Miss Lawson, because the work you’ve done is truly incredible. I’ll pass on a message to some of the teams, and I’m sure Shepard will be glad to write you a recommendation as well.”

“Absolutely,” Shepard said. “Miranda’s the only reason why I’m still here today.”

“I had some help as well,” Miranda said. Shepard might have been imagining it, but she was sure she caught Miranda blushing. Miranda cleared her throat. “But thank you. It would be…an honour to serve the Alliance.” Hackett gave Miranda a brief nod.

“We’ll definitely need to explore your skillset in private, Miss Lawson,” Hackett said. “And while I’d love to discuss it with you right now, the commander and I need to have a quick word in private. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” Miranda said, giving Hackett a nod of her own. She squeezed Shepard’s shoulder before leaving, grasping at thin air until she found Kasumi. Kasumi squeaked and protested as Miranda dragged her out, letting the door close behind them. Hackett waited until he was certain Miranda and Kasumi were a good distance away before he faced Shepard again. He’d barely opened his mouth to speak before the question tumbled out of Shepard’s mouth.

“Do you know where the Normandy is?” Hackett sighed and shook his head. Shepard’s stomach and chest clenched as Hackett looked back at her with sad eyes.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Shepard,” Hackett said. “We’ve sent messages out through every single comm channel that we know of: human, asari, turian, salarian, we’ve hacked into the batarian systems…if our messages are getting through to them, their messages aren’t getting back to us. And with the relays down, we can’t even send a search party out. It’d take too long, months, maybe years. All we have to do is hope that they’ll contact us soon.”

“Of course, sir,” Shepard said. Her mouth felt incredibly dry. She licked her lips, trying to ignore the pounding noise of the Catalyst in her head. Was it laughing at her? Hackett kept talking, and Shepard strained her ears to hear him.

“But I wanted to talk to you Shepard because I’m curious as to what happened up there when you tried to fire the Crucible. When the reports said that someone made it to the beam, I assumed it was you…but then a second person made it up to the Citadel as well. Do you know who it was?” Shepard looked down at her sheets and swallowed. Anderson’s face, beaming at her after she was made Spectre, ran through her mind. The second image was less pleasant: watching her finger pull the trigger on the gun aimed at him, shooting him on the Illusive Man’s orders. Her head buzzed.

“Shepard?” Hackett prompted. “I know this must be upsetting for you, but we need to know what made the Crucible go off and who was up there with you.”

“Aren’t you going to tell him, Shepard?” the Catalyst asked. “Aren’t you going to tell him that you shot and killed the man who would move mountains for you? Aren’t you going to tell Admiral Hackett that you killed one of his best military men?” Shepard bit her lip and shook her head. How could she admit that she killed him? Even if the Illusive Man was controlling her, Shepard should have been stronger. She should have aimed the gun at the Illusive Man the first time instead.

“Anderson,” Shepard finally choked out. “I…I was the second one on the Citadel. Anderson got through the beam first.”

“Anderson got to the beam?” Hackett said. He rested his chin on his hand and shook his head. “But that doesn’t make any sense…I thought we told Anderson to stay with Major Coates…”

“It was…pretty chaotic down there, sir,” Shepard said. “I knew that Anderson was making the run to the beam, but once we were in the vicinity of the Reaper, it was all over.”

“I see,” Hackett said. His shoulders slumped and he took a deep shuddering breath. “Would I be incorrect in assuming that Anderson succumbed to his injuries once you were on the Citadel?” Shepard hesitated.

“Tell him, Commander,” the Catalyst hissed. “Tell him what you did.”

“Yes sir,” Shepard said. “He was trying to get the Crucible fired but his injuries were pretty severe.”

“You liar,” the Catalyst said. “Commander Jane Shepard, too afraid to admit that she’s done something wrong.”

“And then we can only assume that the blast from the Crucible incinerated his body,” Hackett said, sighing. He hung his head briefly before standing up straight again. “Thank you for telling me this, Commander. As soon as you’re able, the Alliance is planning to hold a memorial service for those we lost. We’re trying to wrangle the Council into it too—the Citadel is above Earth now, after all—and make it a full galactic affair, but at the very least, we need to show respect for the lives humanity lost. And as you were one of the few that knew Anderson best…” Hackett sighed again. “This was a very messy war, Shepard.”

Shepard swallowed again. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think I’d be quite right for a memorial service. All those people we lost and with me still alive…it might be rubbing some salt in the wound.”

“Perhaps,” Hackett admitted. “But it might also do the people some good to see that the hero of the galaxy is alive and thriving. After all we’ve lost, we need a morale boost.”

“Yes sir,” Shepard said, her heart pounding. “Did you need anything else?”

“No,” Hackett said. “Well, there is the matter of promotions and other ceremonial details, but the list of awards you’d receive could probably reach the end of the Milky Way. We’ll have to discuss this at a later date.”

“Miranda could discuss it with you,” Shepard said. Her head was starting to spin as she realized the Catalyst hadn’t fucking left, but was sitting at the end of her fucking bed. It was silent but looking up at Hackett expectantly, waiting for him to leave. “Or it might be better to save some of those ceremonies for when my crew comes back. I’m sure there’s more than one award waiting for all of them.”

“Of course,” Hackett said. “Combined, I’m pretty sure that list could reach the Andromeda galaxy.” Shepard gave a small chuckle at that. “All right then, Shepard. I’ll go and track down Miss Lawson, and I’ll leave you to get some rest. You’re looking pretty worn out.”

“Thank you, sir,” Shepard said. The two of them saluted each other, but a piece of Shepard wanted him to stay. The Catalyst had become silent, and she was fairly certain that it was going to start the second Hackett left.

The Catalyst followed Hackett as he left, watching him close the door. Shepard pulled her blankets back up and watched the Catalyst, never taking her eyes off it. The Catalyst turned to face Shepard and the two stared at each other. Shepard broke the silence first.

“You know you’re not real,” she said. “You’re just trying to make me feel guilty.”

“But if you can see me, perhaps your guilt has some weight to it,” the Catalyst replied. “Tell me, how many people couldn’t you save? It didn’t start in your military career either: it started in the colonies.”

“Mindoir was different,” Shepard snapped. “I was sixteen and my mother hid me away. Not that it mattered—our house was one of the few the Alliance actually hit with an artillery strike.”

“You didn’t do anything when Elizabeth Armstrong was dragged away by the slavers,” the Catalyst said. “Nor did you when Alex Lovell was raped right in front of you. He screamed your name and you ran.”

“I shot the slaver first.”

“Only after Alex screamed your name and tried to crawl towards you. You only shot the slaver because he looked towards you,” the Catalyst said. “Do you not remember Alex’s face? How it was caked in mud and blood? How the batarians had tied his hands over his head and pulled his pants down in front of thousands of people? How you thought he liked you back when he smiled at you during class one day—”

“Shut up,” Shepard muttered, pulling her pillow over her head. “You’re not real, you’re not real, you’re not real—”

“Keep repeating yourself,” the Catalyst said. “But you know I’m right. You are pathetic. The batarians should have taken you when they took Mindoir instead of destroying the entire colony.” Shepard waited, gripping her pillow so tightly that she felt her knuckles nearly bursting from her skin. She didn’t pull it off her head until she heard the familiar click of Miranda’s heels as she walked in. She tried to smile and nod her head in the right places as Miranda gushed about how she could get a position working on making prosthetic limbs that were indistinguishable from real limbs, but she felt like a doll or a puppet, trying to say the right things to keep everyone happy.

Because deep down, Shepard knew the Catalyst was right: she was a fake, a fraud, dirty, disgusting, and more deserving of death than she was alive.

She wished Kaidan was with her.

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kuriquinn · 6 years

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Telanadas [4/19]

Cover Page & Disclaimer

first chapter

The storm continues through the night and into the morning, persisting long after dawn’s first light. The members of the outfit sit in silence, distractedly playing cards or dice as they wait for the sharp wind to subside and the sun to pierce the constant cover of clouds.

When the blowing snow and ice subsist, but still does not give way to light, Kakashi ventures from the cave to scout their surroundings. His magic affords him the ability to transform into a creature more inclined toward frigid temperatures, and with senses more useful than a human’s.

“Too bad he can’t cast that on us,” Naruto grumbles. “I wish I had a fur coat right now…”

“With our luck, we would end up stuck as forest creatures with him forgetting to undo the spell,” Sasuke points out.

“I guess…”

“Don’t be so critical. Kakashi’s a talented mage,” Sakura says loyally. Off their unimpressed expressions, she goes on to admit, “When he’s not getting distracted by every old lady or black cat crossing the street.”

While waiting for the mage to return, the three of them continue their game of Wicked Grace, though it is only out of habit. For whatever reason, when the three of them play, the game always ends up in a three-way deadlock. Sakura and Sasuke are equals in strategy and Naruto appears to have the luck of the gods; Sasuke would accuse him of cheating if it were not for the fact the other man cannot lie to save his life.

A shadow lurks in the entrance of the cave, and they all glance up at the giant bear that looms over them. The beast gives a deliberate shake of its shoulders, knocking thick deposits of snow off, and then begins to shift. A moment later, Kakashi stands there, appearing mildly disgruntled.

“The way is somewhat clear,” he tells them. “It is not the best condition. There are snow drifts everywhere, and the wind is still like a knife. But we will be able to see more than a few feet in front of us.”

“Oh, great. So, if we’re about to go over a cliff, we’ll at least be able to see the way down,” Naruto complains.

“No sign of any temple, though, cursed or otherwise,” Kakashi continues. “It will be just our luck if we end up having the climb the whole mountain before we reach it.”

“This Kaguya person is more trouble than she is worth,” Sasuke mutters.

“Well, the legend does say the temple is at the very top of this peak,” Sakura says with a shrug. “The odds of us finding it soon are a fool’s hope.”

They make quick work of packing the rest of their gear before bundling themselves once more against the cold. Kakashi bewitches several small stones to emit a comfortable warmth, setting them into their gloves and boots, and then they are off.

Just as the day before, wind slashes at them like a Suna raiding party, coming from every direction and without warning. Luckily, it is not laden with snow or ice anymore, or they would be blinded. Still, the whites of Sasuke’s eyes freeze if he opens his lids beyond a squint.

Kakashi was not joking about the snowdrifts, either. They are high and unyielding, forcing them all into an ungainly march that has Sasuke’s calves and thighs burning at the repetitive movement.

The shortest of their party, Sakura has the worst of it, though she does her best to soldier on. Despite her efforts, she slows them down even just following behind the taller men. Deciding they will be stuck out in the cold that much longer if they wait for her, Sasuke grabs her pack and tosses it to Naruto. Before the man can question it, Sasuke then orders Sakura to clamber onto his back.

“What?!” she demands, face red in a manner that is more embarrassment than the assault of cold on her cheeks. “N-no, I’m fine, I can manage—”

“You will manage to get left behind and lost,” he informs her gruffly. “Gird your pride for another day. When we are in Iwa drinking your dwarven liquor. For today, I want to get out of this weather.”

“He does have a point, Sakura, even if he is being remarkably blunt about it,” Kakashi agrees. “At least endure it until we get to more steady ground. The higher we get, the more solid the ground will be.”

She spares another half a second in consideration, before nodding, and clambering up on Sasuke’s back. As she settles into place, she does not notice the way Kakashi’s eyes crinkle or the outline of his mouth beneath his mask. Sasuke does, and knows the older man is smirking at him, but ignores it.

“Just do not fall off or choke me,” he informs Sakura as they continue onward.

“Right,” she says, sounding a little breathless. “Are you sure I’m not too heavy for you? I could get Naruto to—”

“It is fine,” he cuts her off, hefting her once to get a better grip under her thighs. It does not escape his attention that this is the closest they have ever been, or the most they have touched since they met. Or that the weight of her against his back is more comfortable than he would have thought.

“Hey, asshole, don’t you dare try anything funny,” Naruto calls back to him, scowling at Sasuke in annoyance. He is ridiculously overprotective of his fellow Warden, and while it is easy to ignore most of the time, right now it is a little more difficult than usual.

Especially with the growing warmth of her body so close to his.

Teeth gritted, Sasuke sets off forward, stalking past the other two until they hurry to catch up.

The rest of the journey is thankfully silent. Sasuke is so focussed on the weather and not dropping his charge that need not dwell on troublesome notions.

It may be an hour, perhaps more, when they finally experience a break.

The wind dies down, and the sun pierces through the cloud cover, illuminating their path in front of them. Even better, the snow is more stable now, and there is no longer any danger of becoming mired waist-deep in it.

“You can let me down now,” Sakura says quietly in his ear. Sasuke disguises his shiver by immediately relinquishing his hold on her, allowing her to drop gracefully to her feet. “Let me know if I can return the favour sometime.”

“I doubt there will ever be an occasion where you need to carry me,” he says stiffly.

Something like hurt flashes across her face at this, which bothers him, because he was not intending to be insulting. He simply cannot fathom a situation where he would be injured or unconscious to such an extent that he could not soldier through it.

Before he can tell her so, there’s a shout from Naruto. “Look!”

They both glance up. It takes a moment, and then they see it: village in the distance.

“Yes!” Naruto punches his fist in the air. “We can finally get out of this frozen hell and get a homecooked meal! And maybe even sleep in an actual bed!”

Sasuke privately thinks the village will not have much of either. The pathetic collection of hovels is overshadowed by trees and rock outcroppings, so that even as the afternoon sunlight shines, the village remains shrouded in night.

“I can barely believe it,” Sakura says, wandering away from Sasuke, their minor interchange apparently forgotten. “What sort of people would choose to settle up here?”

“Ask Sasuke,” Naruto sniggers. “It probably looks like paradise for him.”

“As long as you are not present, it could be,” Sasuke replies, but his distraction takes the tartness out of his reply. The village exudes an aura of foreboding he has only experienced once. When he was a child, he and Itachi stumbled onto the ruins of an elven temple. The stench of death and darkness hung there like the air of a crypt, and it is the same feeling he gets from this village.

Still, there is no point or purpose to turning around now. With their quest demanding they search this place, and without any other possibility of shelter for miles, this damned hamlet is their only terminus.

The approach is silent and grim, and Sasuke can sense his comrades anxiety. Everyone seems ready to spring at a moment’s notice. Every step closer to the village, the atmosphere of wrongness increases.

It is not improved as they wander past the first eerie, shabby houses. Trees that appear more dead than alive sprout haphazardly out of the snowy paths. In the distance, a small dock floats with one lone boat moored on a lake that has likely never unfrozen. More of the miserable houses, shacks of mismatched wood, dot the slope up the mountainside. Abandoned wagons and farm gear litter the frozen, winding paths.

But the most disconcerting thing about this whole place is the utter silence that reigns. Sasuke can hear no people, nor animals. It is as if the very whisper of the wind through the trees is missing in this place.

The hair on the back of his neck stands on end.

They have not gone far when they are suddenly joined by another presence. As if appearing by magic, a leather-faced, hollow-eyed man in tattered armour appears.

“What are you doing in Rōran?” he demands.

He addresses Naruto, barely taking notice of the other three behind him; it is a human quirk Sasuke knows well. People immediately assume that Naruto is the leader of their outfit because he is both a human and a warrior. Sasuke’s ears and Sakura’s small build, as well as Kakashi’s staff, cause humans to view them as no more than second-class.

It is a fiction Sakura encourages, if only because of the use in enemies misjudging which of their group presents the most danger.

“There’s nothing for you here,” the sentry insists.

“How do you know that?” Naruto challenges cheerfully. “I could be a merchant with many useful items and wares that people here would benefit from.”

The guard is not impressed. “You haven’t got a cart. And you all look like you’re starving, not selling.”

“Never mind that,” Kakashi interrupts. “We have business here.”

“No, you don’t. I’d’ve been informed if anyone was expecting…” his eyes rove over them judgementally, “visitors.”

“We’re looking for information,” Sakura pipes up, “and once we have it, we can be on our way.”

“Hmph. Perhaps Revered Father Mukade will know of what you seek. Unfortunately, he’s ministering to the villagers now and can’t be disturbed.”

“Then why mention him?” Sasuke mutters under his breath.

It is clear the man does not intend to tell them anything useful, even if he were privy to it. The group tacitly agree not to mention their actual quest, and Sakura instead suggests, “Maybe you can offer us some answers then.”

“Ask and be on your way.”

“Is there anyone else who might know the goings on in the area? An elder, or even a barkeep?”

“We’ve neither.”

“Do you know where the next nearest settlement is then?”

“No.”

Sakura does not exactly frown, but her mouth firms a little. Her eyes flit to Sasuke, and her head makes an incremental move to one side that suggests there is no point to continuing this.

“Can you point us in the direction of somewhere to gather provisions, then?” Kakashi asks. “If we can resupply and rest for a spell, we can be out of here as soon as possible.”

The guard gives him a sour look, clearly wanting to deny him, but thinks better on it.

“There’s a general supply store up the ways,” he tells them grudgingly. “Won’t be much there, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Thanks,” Sakura says, plastering a false smile on her face and prodding a scowling Naruto ahead of her.

The sentry watches them as they head in the direction he indicated, and even when he is far behind them, Sasuke continues to feel his eyes.

“Anyone else feel the cold, icy fingers of dread up their spine?” Naruto asks under his breath. “That guy was disturbing.”

“That is not the only thing that worries me,” Kakashi agrees quietly. “I have never heard of a Revered Father within the Chantry hierarchy.

“And where are all the people?” Sakura adds. “They can’t all be asleep or out working, can they? You’d the think there’d be women and children about.”

As they enter the village proper, Sasuke moves closer to Sakura, angling slightly downward to murmur, “You have no intention of just getting supplies, do you?”

“No,” she agrees. “But they say it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission. Is he still watching us?”

“Hm.”

“I will deal with this,” Kakashi replies, and covertly flicks his fingers. A wispy green cloud flickers in the surrounding air, and then dissipates before it truly takes form. “I can have this swarm lead him on a bit of a chase while we look around.”

But it turns out there is not much to see.

Though they pass many houses, more than they expected at first glance, they all appear empty. Once Naruto tries to catch a peek through the dirty, frost-covered windows, but the spying yields nothing.

“You shouldn’t do that.”

Everyone jumps as—in the same manner as the lone sentry—a skinny, wan child appears, like the sentry, as if out of nowhere.

“Why are you here?” he presses.

Sakura moves forward, offering the boy a kind smile. “We’re just travellers passing through.”

“Why would you travel here?” he asks bluntly. “Lowlanders don’t belong here.”

“We can really, really see that,” Naruto murmurs to himself.

“I remember some Lowlanders like you,” the boy goes on, unaware or uncaring. “They left…I think. I never saw them again.” Sasuke and Kakashi exchange significant looks. “I doubt I’ll see you again.”

He walks away without warning, singing softly to himself in an unnerving monotone.

“All in favour of getting the hell out of here?” Naruto suggests.

“Not yet,” Sakura says and nods to something up ahead: the supply store of which the sentry spoke. “If there’s a merchant of some sort there, I bet he’ll know something.”

The store itself is homely, but surprisingly, the sallow-skinned shopkeeper is a little more forthcoming than his fellow villagers.

“You’re not from Rōran,” he says, tone more surprised than unkind.

“Everyone says that as if we are not aware of that fact,” Kakashi remarks mildly.

“Well we…we don’t get many visitors,” the man says, honest enough, but he sounds nervous.

“This place is so remote,” Sakura agrees. “Can you tell us about it?”

The man shrugs noncommittally. “How would you describe the place you only know as home?”

Something is not right in here, Sasuke decides, studying the barren walls of the store. There is a familiar tang in the air that should not be in a merchant’s abode.

“I can think of a few words about mine,” Naruto snorts.

“We need to resupply,” Kakashi says. “Basic rations, healing kits, blankets…”

“I don’t have much, but I suppose you can take a look,” the man says, as if it’s not his business to see to the needs of customers.

The falseness of the entire thing begins to grate on Sasuke, and while Sakura starts to barter with the man, he wanders around the room. As he explores farther away from the counter, the sharp smell in the air becomes more pronounced. It appears to be coming from a door to the back of the store.

Sasuke frowns and moves forward.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” the shopkeeper snaps. “That’s private!”

“I smell blood,” he replies. That is all it takes for the sallow-faced man to give a sudden unholy shriek and throw himself over the counter at Sakura.

The move is so surprising, she does not react until he has knocked her to the ground, throwing her elbows back to catch herself. He is already pulling something from his belt, a dagger gleaming in the dim light of the store.

“Sakura, watch out!”

Comments and concrit are much appreciated, and very motivating! For information about supporting my original, non-fandom related works, you’re welcome to check out my ko-fi tip jar, or my patreon page.

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#naruto fanfiction #fusion fic #dragon age #sasusaku #dwarf!sakura #elf!sasuke #mage!kakashi #human!naruto #adventure #romance #slow build #drama #humour #warden!sakura #sfw for now

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barbaramaynard94 · 4 years

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How To Heal A Bruxism

Doubts remain as stress does affect young and old.Yes stress can cause intense pain as well.TMJ has different symptoms and have the TMJ is a technique that has been examined well by qualified doctors using standard methods to prevent it from the day and will open/close more smoothly, with the pain.Other doctors think patients will see some of the problem.o Visibility reduced to a chronic action that eventually wears out your TMJs.

Their jaws no longer had the urge to grind his or her teeth.This article will lead you to begin a treatment option you should see a specialist for TMJ.Some conditions are brought about by trauma, other by dislocation of the major solution necessary to diagnose bruxism.To treat TMJ dysfunction syndrome include osteopathic treatments, such as maybe having your spine misaligned, or even involved in car accidents and injuries can heal.That might mean a mouthguard comes in many cases, what may have difficulty chewing?

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heuschkelkei · 4 years

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goodsoldierandnothingelse · 6 years

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Introductions || Mac and Dean

Adventures on Kik with 0fcourage Blockquote: 0fcourage ; plain: me

The brick exterior and multi-paned windows eluded to times long past. She could smell the rot and mildew inside the walls, even hear the shifting of the building as age settle into its bones further. A decrepit location for rest, though the usual tenants were likely as decrepit as the walls. Except for one, the one she had come to see.

She’d had to wait. He worked like clockwork, she knew, always needing to escape his housemates to sate the thirst of the blemish to his flesh and soul. The thing that made him even more dangerous and terrifying than even before, which many would day was saying quite a lot.

Her knock was light, but loud enough do he’d hear. She knew he was awake, so she had no concern for waking him. Her concern was the weapons she knew would be trained on her and at the ready even before he opened the door.

It had gotten bad again, way more quickly than the last, which had induced a tightening of his chest that threatened to choke him from the inside out. Panicked that his end was racing towards him like a wildfire, but even more so at the thought that no one could stop him before it became too late.

He had been struggling to focus on his laptop’s screen for about a hour, at least. The blood rushing in his ears, the fast pounding of his heart, was making it difficult, but what really broke his attention was a timid knock at the door. It was like a switch turned on, drawing him to his full height and unsheathing his weapon as his Hunter instincts took over. He knew, just by the knock alone, that it wasn’t Sam, which lead him to his next conclusion, but looking through the peephole-- instead of a brunette-- stood a blonde. His brows furrowed. “Ya have the wrong room, Sweetheart,” he informed through the crack in the door.

“That would be impossible, Dean Winchester.” She gave a sad smile as she lifted her hands to show she was unarmed. “I don’t make such mistakes.” She glanced past him into the room, what she could see from the small opening he had made with the door, then back to him. “I have come to offer some support, if you’ll allow it.”

The blood drained from Dean’s face out of habit, hearing his name come from the unknown girl and putting him at a disadvantage. He didn’t like it. He adjusted the angel blade in his fist, ready to use it if need be, even though her stance shifted into an even less defensive one than before. “Support?” he questioned, doubt-filled and suspicious. “I ain’t runnin’ a charity.”

Her lips pressed together in a thin line. “I’m aware help from my siblings has been minimal... At best.” She also knew many who had offered their assistance in the past had done so for their own selfish and not entirely well meaning needs. “Castiel is not well accepted by many, but those who do accept him wish to follow his lead. In doing so, I’m here to offer whatever I can provide. Including information.”

The girl let slip of what she was by a familiar phrase, paired with the way she spoke, making Dean’s mind jump to Cas. It didn’t take much time after that for her to confirm his suspicion. “Uh huh,” he said, glancing behind the girl before returning. “Cas send you?”

She hesitated, biting her lip at the question he directed at her. She didn’t communicate with her brothers and sisters much. Cas knew of her wish to help, to specifically get involved with the Winchester brothers, but she had yet to speak on this with him. That was probably something to have been done before this moment. “Not exactly. But he’d vouch for me were you to ask him about my intentions and loyalty. You’ll find I’m not much like my siblings.”

The hesitation gave him the answer before she even opened her mouth to reply. He glanced out into the hall again before he stepped back opened the door further to let her in. “Not sure if that’s as comfortin’ as you’re tryin’ t’make it sound.” Once she was in he shut the door behind her, re-locking it. “So which Bible-thumper are you?” he asked turning to face her. The blade remained in hand but it was now held more loosely than before.

She smirked at his verbiage, always amused by the differences in speech from one human to the next. “Machidiel. You can call me Mac.” She replied easily. She moved into the small room, gaze rolling across the walls a moment before she found a chair and sat, one leg crossing over the other automatically. “I don’t mean to cause alarm. There’s a lot-- including plenty you have no knowledge of-- happening, now. It’s simply time I take my stance, and I’ve chosen you, the hunters, as my side to align with.”

Her name didn’t ring familiar, but that didn’t mean much, nor did it give him any hint on whether or not she was lying. His instinct was, of course, to assume she was, but he’d give her the benefit of the doubt-- for now. Dean watched her stroll into the room before planting herself on a chair, sitting straight and proper, the kind of rigidness that came from being an Angel. She spoke then, claiming her presence wasn’t cause for alarm but that she was simply choosing a side. “Well, that’s great an’ all,” Dean replied, unable to keep the skepticism completely out of his tone. “We’ll be sure t’send ya the starter pack, but, uh... Is there a reason why you’re here? Or how you even found me, for that chance?”

“It wasn’t easy, and it’s doubtful any my siblings could find you without help. So no, you don’t have to worry about a sudden flood of angels at your door.” She smirked at the thought before she continued. “Your journey has been long and difficult, not unlike others before you. The courage and strength you expel daily, especially in your current condition, is exceptional. I only offer my help and guidance to those who show they are worthy, as you have.” Her lips pursed. “I want to try to help you with the Mark of Cain, since Castiel is wrapped up in things he shouldn’t honestly be worrying about.”

Well, that was reassuring, he guessed. Angels, who weren’t Cas, didn’t seem to see eye-to-eye on anything, and that level of frustration was probably the last thing he needed right now. And this ‘Mac’ character didn’t seem much of a contrast to her ‘siblings’ as she had first claimed. But maybe that was just because he was judging too quickly, stereotyping her on the few similarities she held because of what she was. He needed to take a step back before he did something rash and possibly unnecessary. So instead he listened, trying not to pick her apart by the way she moved or said something but actually absorb what she was saying. Initially, it proved difficult, but then she mentioned the Mark of Cain and he was all ears. He had to blink a few times before he could answer. “You-- wanna help-- me?” he asked. Was the disbelief too hard to hear? “Seriously?”

Her brow furrowed at his response. Was he stupid or just surprised? She could assume both from what she’d seen and heard, but she’d behave herself. For now. “Seriously.” She confirmed. “Castiel is busy, and you clearly need more guidance on the matter before you destroy everything and everyone that matters to you. I watched Cain do it, I don’t want to watch you do it, too.” The last was said with conviction, though she’d admit (only to herself) that she feared she was too late. Still, it was worth a try. Cain had never had angelic support, and maybe that had been why he’d ended up the way he had. Of course, she was more understanding of things than most angels, so that might have had something to do with it. Then, she had been forbidden to involve herself. Now? She made her own decisions.

The Angel, of course, seemed confused when he didn’t jump for joy at her offer out of nowhere from someone he had just met two seconds ago, and Dean couldn’t but see Cas in the confusion. It might’ve sparked a smirk had the girl not turned the conversation dark by focusing on the obvious. His stance had become slightly defensive unconsciously, the matter just a bit too personal for some unknown Angel to speak so openly about. “No offense, uh-- Mac, was it? But last I checked your angel mojo couldn’t touch it.--So unless you’ve got the updated weapon pack I don’t see what you can really do.” His face had fallen into despair, hopelessness filling every crease; the look of a man who had clearly already given up.

She watched the emotions play through his features in the brief silence that settled between them. When he spoke again, his tone was that of the Dean Winchester she had come to know so well from the stories and watching him from afar. “You’re right, our Grace does nothing to the Mark.” Her lips pursed. “But last I checked, your pet angel hasn’t been around to help you much. I’m not Castiel, but I’m not useless. And from what I can tell, you’re low on options.”

Machideiel validated his knowledge, that, probably all, he assumed, Angels couldn’t remove or alter the mark residing on his arm, but also added that the usual angel on his shoulder was off dealing with his own problems and therefore not available to help, unlike she, apparently. Her reason: because she decided to join Team Hunter. At least according to her, but only having just met her Dean had no reason to trust her and believe anything she said. Unfortunately, however, she was right about one thing: he had low to no options, and his tightened jaw said that he wasn’t happy about it. “Fine. I guess,” he said, gruffly. “Maybe some unfamiliarity is a good thing...”

A smug look crossed the angel’s features and she sat a little straighter. No one ever said living among humans for so long hadn’t had any affect on her. “Glad you could come to your senses.” She said with a bright smile. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’m pretty sure I can help with another problem you’re having. No promises, but--” she shrugged. “I’m pretty good.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. You’re only a substitute, so don’t get too comfortable.” He’d much rather have Cas, the two of them having gone through much together that he trusted him wholly, but as she said, Cas already had his hands full. Dean’s brows furrowed when she mentioned another problem he was dealing with and how she could help. “Okay, settle down there, Blondie,” he told her, not missing the arrogance like she was his literal gift from heaven. “What other problem?”

“Oh, I’m aware. As any of my siblings would be.” She noted, his anger at her not being Castiel clear in the way he spoke. His demeanor shifted again and he threw that famous sarcasm and attitude her way. She quirked a brow. “Auryon.” The woman herself was a problem, never mind what she had become in the last year or so. Mac hadn’t been part of Heaven or its workings, but she knew when to pay attention. And when the King of Hell dragged a hunter back from Hell reeking of his power, everyone paid attention. The fact that that simple hint of power had since turned into something she knew even Crowley himself was growing wary of was something to definitely pay attention to. No matter what he had done to her, that power would destroy the woman if Crowley-- or someone else-- didn’t do something soon.

As long as she understood her position, and that he only agreed because of his dire need for help. And that his desperation didn’t mean he trusted her, neither. Although he was sure that was conveyed with how he stood rigid in front of her, and how the weapon in hand still remained unsheathed. Dean asked her what other problem she was referring to and the single-worded answer she gave had his defensive stance faltering, unable to help it. “You can help her? Free her from Crowley?”

Her lips pursed as he eyed her, his thoughts and feelings on her clear in so many ways. Fine. She hadn’t expected easy, not with a Winchester. His question came with a swift chance to his demeanor, to his entire attitude. “I may,” she admitted slowly. “I have been on earth a very long time and observed things my siblings have not. I believe I know for a way to help her. But I will not promise anything; nothing is guaranteed.” She knew her answer would anger him but also hoped he would see she was trying not to mislead him. That would end worse than anything, se knew.

A spark of hope ignited in him at the angel’s maybe, to which he fought ardently to stomp out. Maybe’s were not guarantees, and false hope did nothing other than disappoint in the long run. And the woman basically said as much, but a maybe was better than sitting around on their asses, doing nothing. “I want you t’help her,” he said firmly, his expression hardening. “Ya wanna help? Fine. But I want your efforts focused on helpin’ her.”

Her lips pursed as she eyed him quietly, weighing the words she wished to use. Finally, she nodded her agreement. “May I ask you something, though?” She inquired carefully. It was something that truly bothered her, along with a few others like her. Maybe an answer would help her feel better about everything.

Following his decree, the young and blonde appearing angel stared at him with a pondering look, and Dean could only imagine what she was thinking. Angels were much harder to read than humans. After a moment, though, she nodded her consent, but her condition was an inquiry. Dean fave a short pause, but eventually said, “Yeah. What?”

She weighed his tone a moment, knowing her words were some that others had probably asked. But it was something she wanted to know the answer to herself, before she did anything. A soft clearing of her throat and the angel focused again on the hunter she had decided to help. “Why don’t you think you’re worthy of saving? Heaven itself-- God himself-- has found you worthy many a time. And yet you ask me to help only a woman you care for and not yourself.”

The woman seemed, again, hesitant, like she wasn’t sure what kind of reaction her words would cause, and she was smart to be so but the slowness also sorta bothered Dean. He wished she’d just spit it out and hurry the moment along. Time was not his friend, never really had been, but even more so lately, that he did not like to waste it. Eventually, she asked her question, one he didn’t expect, and again, he felt exposed with her hitting too close to home. Stupid perceptive angels. He scoffed under his breath, shaking his head, before answering. “I need Ry safe. Alright? Away from Crowley. That’s all that matters. Everything else...” He swallowed, looking down for a second and then back up with a weak smile plastered on his lips. “Well, let’s just say I’ve accepted my fate.” The smile vanished as his determination came back. “But Ry’s fate is not sealed. Not as Crowley’s-- super suit. No. She deserves better.”

She listened to his words, heard and saw the emotions. For the most part, he seemed sincere and devoted to what he said. But she had been on Earth a long time, had spent decades of her existence among humans. During that time, she had found that every man, woman and child had a will to live that never went away. So while Dean was honest in his declaration, she could see he was not so fully committed to that acceptance as he would like to believe. Love did that to people. His love for the woman, Auryon, and for his brother while we were on the topic, overwhelmed everything else. But it was that love, she could tell, that kept a part of Dean Winchester from really, truly accepting his fate. A fate that she wasn’t so sure he was doomed to. “I’ll help her to my fullest ability,” she promised when he finished speaking. “But I’m not giving up on you so easily. Castiel has not, therefore I will not either.” Not that Cas would know her as anything other than a sibling. But it was difficult not to know of and about all that Castiel had done and was doing.

If Dean knew what she was thinking, and what she had concluded, he would’ve repeated himself about angels being perceptive. Because, yes, she was right, he couldn’t actually fully accept that his time was up. He wanted to, it’d make things easier, and he could actually have some peace of mind, but there were two things stopping him. And he needed to know they were safe and that they would be okay before he could finally let go. Mac promised she’d help with Ry, but that she wasn’t going to give up on him either. “Fine, whatever,” he said after a moment, not as comforted by that as she may think. “But only after you’ve done everything you can t’help her. She comes first.”

She accepted his gruff agreement of her words with a small smile, giving him a nod in response to his final demand. “Of course,” she agreed softly. “She will be my foremost concern, Dean. You have my word on that.” She knew her word, to him, would mean little. But it was the most important and strongest promise and bond she could offer. It was not something she gave lightly, and never had. In all her time, she could count on her hands the number of humans she had truly offered her binding word to. But, of course, he would not know nor care for this fact.

Dean allowed himself a deep breath, nodding. He still needed to check with Cas, make sure this angel was who she said she was before he could actually trust her to do anything, but if she could really help... Having another angel on their shoulder was something they could use. “I want you t’promise me somethin’ else, too,” he muttered after a moment, looking back at her. “If I--” He swallowed thickly but continued all the same. “If it becomes too late for me... I won’t become that thing again. So I, uhm-- need ya t’take me out. Just in case Cas isn’t around. Do whatever you have to, but... Don’t let me come back with black eyes. I can’t...” He shook his head, trying to escape the memories that had formed. “I won’t relive that.”

She allowed him to get his request out, keeping her gaze on him but her mouth closed. His demeanor had changed enough that she knew his words held a deep importance. Once he finished, she pressed her lips together thoughtfully, nodding slowly. “Again, my word. I would not wish that on anyone.” She assured. But she felt a sharp jolt within at his request. She truly hoped it wouldn’t come to that; she didn’t truly know if she’d be able to follow through. A normal demon, sure. A Knight was harder. Especially one that also happened to be Dean Winchester. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Dean stared at her intently, making sure the importance of his request got through to her and searching for any flicker of deception on her host’s face. A moment later, satisfied, he dialed it back and scoffed dryly at her assurance that he didn’t have to worry. “No, but you will if you don’t stop me,” he replied, again giving her a meaningful glance before he dropped it, pawing absently at his arm with the blade still held loosely in his fist. “Do ya keep your ears on or do I need a number to get a hold of ya?”

She had to force herself not to sigh at him as he got that final comment in. She knew Castiel was busy with other things, such as Heaven, but she also knew he’d never neglect helping Dean. Especially with a situation such as this. And she’d do her best to assist.

“I have a phone,” she confirmed, “But I also listen for those who need me. I’ll give you my number, however, just in case.” It was best he had more than one way to call her, anyway. That way he’d be sure to get her attention when he needed it.

“Phones are better for me anyhow,” Dean admitted, still not comfortable, even through the years, with praying, and fished out his phone from his pants’ pocket. He pressed a couple of buttons, the phone beeping as he did so, before he held it out for the young blonde to take. “I hope you’re more familiar with technology than the rest of the God Squad.”

She smiled at his phrase ‘God Squad’. “I know my way around it.” She chuckled, punching in her number. “I’ve been around Earth a little more than most of the others.” She added as she handed the phone back. “Is there anything I can do for you while I am here? I have some time, and I know Castiel is busy.”

Well, that was refreshing to hear. Training Cas hadn’t exactly been easy, to say the least, and he still didn’t fully comprehend the voicemail function. “That’s a relief,” he uttered, taking back the tiny machine and re-pocketing it. The angel-- Mac asked then if she could do anything for him while she was there, like she was a new maid he had just hired. “Uh.” He hesitated, again wanting to run her name by Cas first, but... “Ya know of any cases in the area?”

She squinted thoughtfully at his question, sending out her senses to fell for anything unnatural around them. A few docile beings, but nothing causing a disturbance. Not in the immediate area, at least. As she pushed herself further away, she caught the sensation of a demon. Strong, dangerous. Wreaking havoc. She snapped back to the tiny room with Dean and focused on the hunter. “There’s a demon.” She said softly. “Three towns over. Been there a while, somehow keeping under the radar. He’s powerful.” She locked her gaze on the man. “I’d take great pleasure in helping you destroy him.” She was aware of the change in her tone and demeanor. A danger to her seeping through that she often kept in check. Nothing alarming, just a reminder of the soldier of war she had been created to be and escaped long ago. But certain things brought it out. One of the worst of demons se’d encountered in a while happened to fall into that category.

It was like a switch as she searched the surrounding area with her Grace or whatever; her face went idle, her eyes glossing over, and reminded Dean of a loading screen. He waved a hand in front of her face; no reaction. Not even a blink. Dropping his arm back to his side he waited impatiently through the next few seconds before the angel rebooted and came back online, focusing on him. “Well?” he asked, eyebrows in anticipation, and she informed him that there was a demon, a strong one, infesting a town not far from where they stood. Not being able to rely just on her word, not yet, and needing to see some kind of proof to back up this claim Dean moved over to his laptop and started typing away. He was about to ask her the exact town when she locked eyes with him and let out her shocking statement. He was slightly taken aback, but also knew, through past dealings, that some angels could be quite ruthless. Mac just hadn’t come across as one. But that might of had something to do with the fact she was sporting a young woman, barely out of her teens. “Okay, settle down there, Buffy. Just tell me what town he’s in.”

The reference was lost on her, bus she chose not to comment. Instead she simply watched the hunter do what he was best at doing. She rattled off the town the demon was in, now constantly aware of the creature at the edge of her senses. “I don’t mean to sound eager about killing,” she said after a moment of thought. “But this particular demon has a dangerous habit that many avoid. I’d much like to ensure he’d taken care of.”

Dean typed the town into his computer’s search engine and began scanning the news, looking for any tragedy that could be the handiwork of a demon. He was in the middle of a promising article when his company-- someone he almost forgot was still there-- added onto her earlier comment, about not meaning to sound eager when it came to killing. “First off, when it comes to killing demons-- Ain’t nothin’ wrong with some eagerness. Just as long as it doesn’t get ya killed. Being able t’dance on their graves is definitely a perk of The Job,” he told her, glancing up from his screen. “Secondly-- How much experience ya got with demons? ‘Cause I ain’t gonna hold ya hand.”

She let him respond, amuse by his verbiage. She so enjoyed the differing ways humans used their languages. She was more amused by his question, however, and smiled at him as he finished. “I think I can manage,” she replied without hiding her amusement. Not all angels were accustomed to facing demons, but they could all stand their ground with the use of their blades and their Grace. Mac had been on Earth for a millennia, and had faced her fair share of demons during that time.

While Dean knew that Angels had, yes, been around much longer than he had, there was no guessing how much field work and how recent this particular angel had logged. Especially when he knew that it had only been a few years now that they had come down from their perches on the observation deck. He just didn’t want her in the way. He needed a kill, his body taut with the undeniable urge, and this demon had just made top of the List. “Uh huh,” Dean replied after squinting slightly at her once again expressed cockiness. Over-confidence could often be an issue when it came to hunting. “Well, if I decide t’say yes to God as my co-pilot... Just-- make sure t’stay outta my way.” That wasn’t said out of over-confidence but rather a warning, knowing just how badly he needed this, and the Mark wasn’t picky whose blood it fed on. “An’ that you follow my lead.”

She wasn’t ignorant to the sensation of pure need that came from him. She was aware of the cause and what the need was. She had done well to ignore it. If she was honest, she normally would have pushed the subject until the other snapped. But this was different. She had seen what it made Cain into. That Dean had withstood for so long was something to be said for his strength. But no on was completely unbreakable. Clearly he had found ways to sate the bloodlust, but that didn’t make it safe. In fact, it could be quite the opposite if they weren’t careful. “Right,” she replied with as much cheer as she could muster. “You’re the boss.”

Dean nodded once, satisfied and somewhat relieved that she chose to comply instead of argue. While angels were usually prone to following Mac had already said herself that she had chosen a more independent, lesser traveled path to walk. But she had seemed keen on helping him... Leaning back, away from his laptop, he reached across the bed to grab his phone off the nightstand. A notification showed a text from Sam, but Dean ignored it for now and went to his contacts, clicking on Cas’s name. He shot him a text, asking him about Mac and what he knew about her, before throwing it back over his shoulder. “So, Mac,” he started, looking towards the screen and to her. “What made you decide t’go rogue?”

A smirk formed at his question. that was a long story that they didn’t have time for. Luckily, she had a shorter version. “I’ve been on Earth for a very long time. Since about the time the vikings rose up.” She shrugged. “You could say I was a bit of a rebellious teenager. I thought humans had more to offer than my siblings did. I wanted to be among them, to learn about them... and I just never went back.”

Controlling family meets rebellion; that’ll do it, as Dean knew too well. “So, basically you’re The Little Mermaid,” he summed up for her, and as an afterthought hoped she didn’t understand that reference. “Do you regret it?”

She lifted a brow at his reference. “I suppose you could say that. But instead of giving up my voice, I gave up everything I knew. And no, I don’t regret it one bit.” She should be surprised that she didn’t have to think, just answered, but after so long she should be able to answer that question with ease. Still, she would always have that little nagging feeling in the back of her mind.

To be fair Dean hadn’t actually watched the Disney flick but just happened to stumble across its plot lie when browsing the internet for research on sirens. It was a strange thing for him to retain, but strange is what usually stuck with him. That didn’t stop the slight reddening of his face, however, when she gave him a peculiar look. He cleared his throat, looking back at the screen. “Good,” he commented. He didn’t need an angel who wasn’t fully committed. And as soon as he heard back from Cas, he could actually begin to trust her, if only just so.

Dean clicked on a few articles before deciding that it was enough to go on and shut his computer. He got up and started packing up his few loose items, but was still careful around the woman.

She had to hide the small smirk that formed at his small display of embarrassment. It didn’t even phase her but he was able to reference a children’s movie. Hadn’t every human seen it? The short response was again not unexpected. She was just glad he hasn’t tried to kill her yet. As he moved around the room, packing up his items, she took the time to look around and get to know the type of person he was. Neater than she expected, but not so neat that it was unusual. Any human that was particularly tidy was not always as they seem.

“We’re taking my car,” he informed, leaving no room for argument, as he finished his task. “That means no zapping. You’re gonna sit your ass in the vehicle an’ you’re not gonna whine about it. Also, there will be no touching of the radio.--Now I’ve sent word to Cas, an’ if you don’t sit right by him then you won’t by me either. You can go find some other Hunter to flock with. We understand each other?” He wasn’t unkind as he spoke to the young woman, but merely stating that that was the way things were gonna be.

Her brows lifted, but she didn’t argue. In fact, she had to fight not to let her smile of glee show. She loved cars. Sure, they were slower than flying, but they fascinated her. The mention of her brother had her nodding. She was sure Cas remembered her and knew she was not a danger. But she couldn’t help the tinge of worry she had that, for some reason, he had forgotten her or that his feelings had changed. “I understand,” she stated. “Like I said; you’re the boss.”

Dean took a moment to pause, searching her expression thoroughly as he was trained to do, but seeing no deception he nodded once, satisfied. “Yes, I am,” he murmured as he moved past her, opening up the door. His manners kicked in then, as he stood to the side and waited for her to exit first. He’d also feel better to have her in front of him, instead of behind, as they made their trek to Baby.

She offered a sweet smile as he held the door for her. “Thank you,” she added as she passed and exited the room. She blinked at the change in light and the shift in the sounds around her. “Is there anything specifically you’d like me to do when we get where we’re going?” She wondered.

Dean acknowledged her thank you with a curt nod but no comment, shutting the door behind them. Once outside he squinted, repositioning his bag across his shoulder, and gestured towards the shiny black Impala just across the tiny parking lot. The Angel took the time to ask an inquiry as they walked the cracked, worn pavement. “Don’t die,” was the first thing that came to mind. If the demon was as powerful as she suggested he’d need the backup. “Oh, an’ don’t let me die.” With a squeak, the trunk opened and Dean unloaded his crap before shutting the hatch again. “Though, it would be funny t’see the demon’s face when I resurrected...” He had a small, amused smirk playing on his face before it dawned on him that imaging that wasn’t funny. Giving Mac a side glance he walked over to the driver’s side and got in.

She watched him go through the motions as a man who had done this countless times before. A ghost of a smile crossed her face, fleeting though it was, because it was moments like this that were her favorite part of being among the humans. They were, whether they were noticed or not, private moments. Small peeks into who the person was and what they loved most. This man was made for this job, and he knew that he was. Despite all that he had been through, all that he had lost, he had embraced his life. “It would certainly be amusing, yes.” She commented with a chuckle. Following his lead, she opened the passenger’s side and climbed in, closing the door once she had settled into the seat. The dashboard seemed miles away from her vessel; clearly a much larger person had sat here before her. “And I won’t let you die.”

Dean had leaned over the bench seat in attempt to open the passenger’s door as an afterthought but only managed to get it unhinged before the small blonde swung it open fully. Repositioning himself back in his seat he watched her follow suit. The girl she was in seemed so young, almost too young, and it made him wonder about her; if she was still even alive in there. Frowning he looked away, focusing out through the windshield. After a moment, she’d said that she wouldn’t let him die, to which he nodded and started the car.

They had gotten a few miles down the road, music filling the silence, before Dean turned it down a bit and asked the obvious question. “So... What makes you think you can help me?”

“Which situation do you ask about? Because my answer depends on what you’re seeking information on.” She glanced at him, trying her best not to read emotions that she could see filtering through his green eyes. He was expressive through them, especially when she could tell he was trying to hide all emotion. His curiosity was tinged with more emotions than she wanted to put words to, but especially doubt and suspicion. Both of those made her feel uneasy. Not because she feared him or what he could do to her, because let’s not be ignorant, he could most certainly do plenty to her even without killing her. No, the uneasiness was because she knew that if she didn’t deliver what she was promising she was letting someone else down. And Dean Winchester was not someone you wanted to let down.

Okay, so he thought it was the obvious question. But she did have a point. She had offered to help with more than one problem. “Well, I guess in general,” he answered. “As you know I’ve already for angel help.” An angel he trusted with his life, and knew that if he was able to help him he would have. “An’ no offense or anything, but you don’t strike me as anything special.” And she had already admitted that her power couldn’t touch the Mark, and he knew that it couldn’t sever the link between Ry and Crowley either because Cas had already tried. “Not that having another angel in your corner ain’t useful...” Especially when headed into a fight, like they were now.

She hesitated long enough to think about it. She knew her answer, but she needed to be sure. “I have seen more of my brothers and sisters die than I’d like to count. I haven’t been a part of the inner workings of Heaven for-- a very long time. But I know that it is chaos there, and that Castiel has a lot of work ahead of him.” She paused to lick her lips and pressed them together a moment. “I have seen you, and your brother, come out of situations most would have long failed at. I tend to like to support those I think are the strongest, the winning side. And that’s you, Dean.” She let the words for a few moments while she gathered in the emotions she suddenly felt. She knew she’d said more than he was expecting, but it was needed. She cleared her throat before she finished what she wanted to say. “I’m not the strongest of my kind, certainly. But I’ve been on earth long enough to know more than most. I can offer a different outlook, and I want to do that to help ensure you are able to come out of this standing, again.”

There was a pause, and Dean looked over to see the calculations practically play out in her expression. He wasn’t sure if the hesitation should give him comfort or not. Developed instinct automatically had him doubting, but the woman hadn’t done anything yet to put him totally off to her. So he tried to stow his paranoia for when she did answer he could focus on what she told him.

A little further down the lane she broke the silence and went into a monologue. At first, he was confused at where she was going with it, since it seemed unrelated to what he had asked, but as she continued her thought process connected. Though, if he was being honest, her speech didn’t do much to provide him with the hope he had been subconsciously seeking. “Well, that’s...very ambitious of you,” he concluded. “If not a little misguided.” But beggars can’t be choosers.

Her gaze snapped to him, and she had the decency to look embarrassed. “Sorry, I got carried away. And while that’s all true-- I also just want this shit to be over with. I’m tired of watching people and Angels die. And you’re the only ones that I know of that can end it. So, I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

Dean frowned and was silent for a moment, wondering if he should say what was lying on his tongue or to just let it slide. He chose the former after clearing his throat. “I uh, know you guys are all about faith or whatever...but uhm-- you may be placing a little too much in me an’ my brother,” he admitted. “I mean, yeah, we’ve taken a few names, but not without costs. We never come out on top. Not really. I can say, looking back over the years, that Death honestly follows us around. I’d hardly refer that to the ‘winning side’.”

She couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. She knew that that was how he felt but it still baffled her to hear him say it. “People die, Dean, every single day. They die of natural causes, they die from accidents, from monsters we can’t catch, and so many other reasons. It’s going to happen no matter what you do, and you can’t control that. And the costs that you speak of? Those are going to come with every situation no matter what side you’re on. But what you and Sam have done? The amount of people that are still alive because of the things you’ve done completely outweigh those that were lost in battle to get there. Of people knew the things that you did, the lives you saved, you would be much more than just Heroes. So you may not see yourself as the winning side, but there are many that do whether you realize it or not.”

His brows furrowed at hearing laughter come from his passenger, when he wasn’t trying to be funny but serious, and he looked over at her, his expression a confused scowl. The angel went on, not explaining her reaction but telling him her side of things, how she saw it. Honestly, most of it, he had heard before, but none of it ever stuck with him, and wasn’t any different. Maybe once he had considered himself a hero, but not anymore. Not after all the crap he’d done and gone through. Not with this brand on his arm. Dean scoffed under his breath. “Well, sister, then they are just as delusional as you,” he muttered.

She rolled her eyes at his response, sighing and leaning her head back against the headrest. “Delusional or not, you’re stuck with me.” She noted. “Whatever you want or need, just say the word. If Cas isn’t available, I will be.” She knew that meant nothing to him now, before he knew her, but eventually she would be sure he understood the weight behind those words.

Dean was starting to get that, when she said he was stuck with her. At least if she was telling the truth. Again, she hadn’t done anything to cause suspicion, but Dean wasn’t exactly the most trusting of people. Especially as of late. And Angels were no exception. In fact he was probably even less trusting of them than actual people. Given his history, it was understandable. Suddenly his back pocket vibrated, alerting him of a new message. Maneuvering with ease, while keeping the car straight on course, he dug out his cell. “Speak of the devil,” he murmured, smirking slightly at an afterthought, and opened up the text from Cas.

She didn’t say anything when she noticed his phone go off and that he looked at it. Even if he was driving and looking at his phone, she assumed he had practice on it whereas she certainly did not. She stayed silent and waited for him to speak again, his muttered comment making it clear that her sibling was the one contacting him.

Dean read through the text quickly, ignoring the scattered, and numerous, emoticons throughout it, and while it wasn’t exactly a shining recommendation he was searching for, it was good enough. At least for now. He’d know more about what she was really like after this excursion together. “Good news. Your ass gets to stay planted where it is. At least for now,” he informed. “Your final grade won’t be available until after we close the case, however.”

She quirked a brow at his words, smirking slightly. “Sure, okay. I can live with that. My ass is pretty comfy, anyway.”

“That’s cause that’s where my Sasquatch of a brother usually sits,” he informed. “Definitely been broke in a few miles back... Probably wouldn’t like it too much if he knew you were sittin’ in it though.”

She smiled brightly. “I’m sure he’d change his mind once he got to know me.” She replied, feeling that Sam would be the easier of the two to bond with.

Dean glanced over at her briefly, knowing she was probably right. “Demons are more his type,” he mumbled, a bitter taste in his mouth leaving a sour look on his face.

Mac pressed her lips, knowing the situation that was being spoke of. She hadn’t known that Dean still held on to that he prayed in frustration so tightly. “I didn’t mean in that sense,” she said with a sigh.

“I know what you meant,” he muttered in reply. “An’ you’re probably not wrong. Sammy’s more trusting than me... A little too trusting sometimes. Especially when it comes to the supernatural...and women. Double especially if its both.” He shook his head before he returned his attention back to his cell, pausing for a moment to decide something. Eventually he sent Ry a text to meet him at the town they were headed to.

“Well, you and I both know that he’s not stupid, despite his willingness to trust easily. I’m sure he can muss out whether or not I’m worth trusting.” She certainly hoped that, by then, Dean trusted her, too.

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean said, but he had someone else on his mind to help him determine that. Someone who was a little more hardened like himself; the same person he had just messaged to inform them of a change in plans. “For right now, that doesn’t matter. Like I said your official stamp of approval will be decided at a later date.” Actions spoke loud than words, after all. “In the meantime, we listen to some tunes.” He reached for the dial to turn it on.

Her lips pressed together, and she nodded as the music switched on. She listened for a few minutes, then turned her attention out the window and her thoughts for the remainder of the drive.

Continued here

#0fcourage #adventures on kik #introductions #Mackin Dean lawl xD

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feministangertranslator · 6 years

Text

Stormy Daniels rocks and makes me feel better about being sexually assaulted on my birthday during the rise of #metoo.

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I haven’t posted anything here in a while because frankly, I was sexually assaulted and had to deal with it first privately before continuing on here. I am finally inspired and ready to write about it because it is Sexual Assault Awareness Month, and I just saw the brilliant Stormy Daniels and Michael Avenatti make history on The View; I am ecstatic that this revolution is being televised.

The dissemination of the current wave of feminism to the masses (which includes #metoo, domestic violence, and sex-positive awareness) and the true signs of the crumbling of the Trump administration both happened in an interview with a female adult film actress on a daytime TV show targeted at women. I almost can’t believe my eyes. As a lawyer, I don’t think Daniels and Avenatti would be up there if they didn’t have some juicy, solid evidence and dirt on Trump, so I am extremely hopeful and waiting with bated breath for the next installment.

As far as the assault I experienced, I had to deal with the shock, shame, confusion, and invalidation I felt after it happened, devastatingly on my birthday on December 16, 2017. I had been talking about feminism and #metoo 24/7 and felt so blindsided and stupid for something like that to happen to me. I didn’t know how to continue writing here openly and it felt like my little passion project had ended before I even got started. The assault was part of a series of events that led me down into a deep depression that came out of a feeling of hopelessness and powerlessness, out of which I am amazed and thrilled to have come to the other side better than before.

I knew I had a right and duty to myself to take my time with moving through it. However, I started this blog specifically to raise awareness about sexual assault and felt so much internal pressure to keep it going and felt like a failure for 1) “letting myself” be sexually assaulted and 2) not bouncing back right away and 3) being so affected by it since it may look to others like it was “not that bad.” And even though I know better, some part of me inside blamed myself. I was so frustrated and angry, let alone found it incredibly embarrassing and ironic to be sexually assaulted in the literal pinnacle of sexual assault awareness two months after the #metoo movement exploded. I was actually shocked that these guys hadn’t got the memo, to be honest.

Today, I know something special happened to me, women, and our entire society when I watched Daniels on The View. She talked to women in a way they could understand. She detailed the incident where she was allegedly threatened by someone in regards to Trump. She talks about going to mommy and me yoga in broad daylight to a women’s center, a supposedly safe place. She was with her little baby and had a baby toy in her mouth while getting ready to get her baby out of the car when an attractive, professionally dressed and middle-class appearing man came up to her car, and threatened her life if she didn’t stop talking about Trump.

Daniels knew how to talk to women about what it is like to fear for their own and their family’s life and safety because of threats, intimidation, and bullying from men. Daniels and Avenatti clearly know that women face domestic violence and sexual assault all the time and are using this opportunity to educate them. And on a daytime tv show for women, the fear, shock, and paralysis she felt were what she needed to illustrate to get the point across that what is happening to her is, in fact, true, despite her not acting before, and not acceptable and needs to be brought to light and stopped. Both the alleged actions of Trump, and those of other people in power who use intimidation, violence, and sex as a way to control others. This includes boyfriends, partners, husbands, friends, employers, etc.

I am so tired of the misinformation that something physical or major has to occur for someone to be emotionally scarred, traumatized, or changed and silenced and made to feel powerless because of it; that only harm is done if someone is physically touched, or attacked; that rape is about sex and sexual attraction only; that sexual assault must include violence; that stranger rape is what it is like in “Law and Order” and more common than being raped by a family member or friend; that everyone can easily tell whether someone wants sexual contact without giving express consent so consent isn’t needed; that a rape has to be very “obviously” perpetrated to be believed, if even then; and that powerful and beloved figures in pop culture are somehow incapable of sexually violating women.

The truth is, and people who wish to control another know this: intimidation, words, harassment, and threats of violence or harm are enough to make someone feel powerless and affect their behavior without any major action to follow it. And in that same vein, one does not have to be “raped” to experience the same awful feelings of violation and powerlessness; any nonconsensual sexual contact is a sexual assault and enough to profoundly affect someone. Because I am a lawyer and a writer, I always look to words to guide me. According to California Criminal law, found at https://codes.findlaw.com/ca/penal-code/pen-sect-243-4.html, “sexual battery” is essentially any unconsented-to sexual contact that it meant to sexually gratify the assailant or abuse the victim, and “rape” is when such forcible contact includes “intercourse.” There are a lot more details, but I think this is the important gist to remember. Our bodies and personal space are sacred and it is a crime for someone to infringe upon that.

I had to remind myself of this when it happened to me. Not much “physically” happened; however, because the assault surprised me and came out of the blue, it felt like my safety was shattered, my personhood was violated in an instant, and I didn’t have a right to be free to act and feel safe, it affected me profoundly in every aspect of my life - just like all the other violations had. I felt the need to put up my self-protective walls again and chastised myself for letting them down and letting loose and having fun in the first place.

I was at a dance club with my friend and we accepted drinks from two guys. After we got to the dance floor, I started walking towards my friend as I was trying to get away from one who kept making advances that I turned down, and the other guy who was dancing with my friend suddenly grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me into the crotch of the first guy, which totally shocked and scared the fucking shit out of me. I heard myself scream “no means no” from some protective part deep from within, and the two guys scuttled off like frightened cockroaches.

Even though I stood up for myself, I blamed myself for it happening in the first place; all the classic conditioning went through my head: was I too drunk, did I seem “easy and desperate?” Why did I give that guy a chance even though my gut said no at the beginning? Why didn’t I walk away the first time he made an advance? Did I feel obligated because he bought me a drink? Why did I give him the benefit of the doubt? Not only did I needlessly punish myself for something that wasn’t my fault no matter what the circumstances, but the fact that something inside intuitively had told me to run away, and I hadn’t listened to my inner instincts, I felt like I failed myself.

I got really depressed and questioned my ability to feel safe, have fun, and be able to trust people and be sexual out in the world. It also happened around the time I was becoming aware of some toxic and unhealthy dynamics I had with some people in my life. That night, it felt like all of the world and everyone in it was unsafe and all my fear had all come to a horrifying explosive pinnacle at that moment. The fact that the one guys who did the physical touching wasn’t even the one I was interacting with, that it seemed like they acted in concert, without even speaking to each other with what appeared to bea seamless orchestration of moves, made me paranoid and obsess over it: did they plan this or are they so indoctrinated in rape culture and entitlement that they just acted like this instinctively and confidently?

This bizarre moment felt like the explosion of rape culture socialization of men meeting with my maladaptive coping skills from prior abuse to create the perfect storm. I thought I could take care of myself, and since I was not doing anything too provocative, and being friendly, and it being my birthday, that everything would be fine. And I know it’s not my fault, but I know I had a spidey-sense about what was going to happen that I couldn’t articulate so I ignored it. That ignoring of my feminine intuition is my unconscious habit pattern ingrained in me that I am working earnestly to change. When I smell smoke, I have a delay in running away from the fire. This is absolutely because I have been socialized and trained to do it. I realized that my feeling unsafe with some of the people in my life was a sign that I needed to create a sense of safety, love, and self-care for myself, and I have. And to accept that the pushing down of my intuition is a result of the conditioning from prior abuse and know I am doing the best I can to empower myself; I can’t control everyone and everything.

When I expressed my experience or thoughts and feelings on this sexual assault to others, I saw that the world, including some of the women I have confided in, was still not ready to see and recognize sexual assault for what it is. And I still see us women blaming ourselves, and many doing business as usual by trying to walk it off and keep it in and keep quiet. Our society’s collective consciousness will awaken to what really is abuse and assault and how to put take the burden of preventing it off on women in stages, as led by those of us who already know this to be true, either through luck or personal experience. I am finally counting myself amongst the way showers. I can’t take it anymore; I want more people to see this and I am going to talk about it.

Seeing Daniels describe her alleged experience with the man threatening her to “stop talking about Trump” made me so ecstatic, as this is yet another piece of evidence of the sea change coming in empowering women to be able to recognize domestic violence and sexual assault when it happens to them. To have her on tv saying she is doing this to empower women to recognize this type of behavior is progress and I know her message will impact many women. We may not have been able to get Trump prosecuted for the multiple alleged sexual assaults, but his actions are now forever associated with the type of brutal behavior through her account and she is keeping the conversation going. This is genius.

Also, from a legal perspective, Daniels is an excellent witness; she is articulate, works well under enormous pressure, appears credible and put-together, is prepared and confident, doesn’t give conflicting details in retelling her story, does not hesitate on her answers, knows her audience and what to say to them and tell a story, and is appropriately vulnerable and honest on difficult matters. As a survivor, every fiber of my being resonated with what she said, and as a woman who wants to continue the sexual liberation of women, I am delighted it is an adult film star doing this amazing work. I am thrilled, validated, honored and excited to witness this today.

#metoo #stopsexualassault #stopsexualviolence #timesup #stormydaniels #sexualassaultawareness #survivorculture #domesticviolence #justice

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