#this is not true. kids are actually able to display the required self control in most cases

[butchlifeguard]

I HATE FANDOM WANK YALL ARE UNHINGED. VERY NEGATIVE BTW

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 44

Title: Aftermath

Warnings: angst, profanity, mention of a suicide attempt, talk of mental illness

Tagging:  @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @miss-smutty, @tragiclyhip​

Or read on Ao3 if that’s more your jam:   https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450/chapters/77430731​

He spends the first ten minutes fighting off a panic attack. Chest impossibly tight and feeling as if it’s on fire; heart pounding and his hands trembling and a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow and gathering along his hairline. Head swimming and stomach lurching; the burn and the taste of bile as it gathers in the back of his throat. Legs threatening to give out from underneath him; forced to sit on the kitchen floor with his eyes closed as he leans back against the cupboards. Reminding himself to just breathe; drawing in deep, ragged breaths and releasing them slowly. Easily recalling one of many grounding exercises Doctor Klein had instilled in him years ago. A quick and surprisingly successful technique that he’s employed numerous times when he’s been alone; terrified he’d finally reached his breaking point and was in the process of losing his mind. And he can hear the man’s voice now; five things you can see, four things you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, and one you can taste. Relief surging through him when it begins to work. The nausea abating and the room no longer spinning around him; heart rhythm slowing and the vice around his chest loosening.

The first time he’d an episode, he’d thought he was having a heart attack. Waking up from a dead sleep and finding himself filled with the most profound and overwhelming sense of terror and impending dread; the walls feeling as if they were closing around him and the pain and the tightness in his chest near crippling. He couldn’t even be sure if he’d been dreaming; if a nightmare filled with horrendous images of his wife and children being physically and sexually tortured had been what kickstarted things. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Horrific and brutal dreams involving his family tearing him out of many a night’s rest; sending him scrambling for the bathroom in order to vomit and then finding him sobbing uncontrollably in a fetal position on the floor. Taking several minutes for him to reach full consciousness; brain finally able to register his surroundings and identify them as familiar and convince him that he -and his family- were safe and sound. Suddenly aware of the touch of his wife’s hands and the sound of her voice. Finding her kneeling beside him and speaking to him in that soothing and patient way she’d long ago developed just for him; a palm moving in slow circles in the middle of his back as the fingers of her other hand repeatedly combed through his hair. Neither worry of fear clouding her eyes or furrowing her brow; displaying nothing but love and understanding and tenderness. She was no stranger to those kinds of moments; she’d seen many a fellow Marine wake up in the field in the midst of a panic attack or a night terror and had watched the methods deployed by field medics in how to properly handle them.

While he’d been comforted by the way she’d handled things before AND after, he’d also felt ashamed; sickened that she’d had to not only witness him at his most vulnerable, but be the one to render aid. Toxic masculinity, she’d said, when he’d admitted how pathetic it had made him feel; a woman half his size having to take care of HIM. Years having it drilled into him that any sign of weakness or display of emotion made him a lesser man; one that would never be respected or able to properly provide for his family, never mind protect them. She’d never laughed at the ridiculousness of it; never told him to simply get over that line of thinking or looked at him as if he WERE losing his mind. Instead listening quietly and intently; alternating between rubbing his shoulders or holding one of his hands in both of her own as he talked about all the ways his father had attempted to ‘teach’ him how a real man should be. Stern and strict. Controlling. Intimidating. Abusive. Admitting he was terrified of one day cracking and following in his own man’s footsteps; worried he’d begin treating her just as horrible as his mother had been so many years ago. And she’d leaned in to kiss him; cradling his face in her hands and using her thumbs to clear away the wayward tears that trickled down his cheeks. Pulling back and gracing him with that smile that’s always been reserved solely for him; so beautiful and pure and perfect and letting him know just how much he IS loved.

“You could NEVER be like him,” she’d assured him. “Ever. You have too good of a heart. Too big of one. And you love me way too much.”

It’s always been humbling; the blind faith she has in him, the adoration and respect she’s consistently shown. Over the years he’s battled with the belief that he doesn’t deserve any of it; this beautiful and incredible woman so full of light and brightness showing that kind of affection and love towards him. The one person solely responsible for everything that is good in his world; a stable home surrounded by the comfort and security that comes with the familiarity and routine of domestic bliss, seven incredible children that are the embodiment of everything that is amazing and beautiful about the two of them. She’d not only saved him that day on the Sultana Bridge, but in so many other ways as well; her patience and her unwavering loyalty and steadfast belief in him always helping him through every battle he’s faced

The one true constant in his life; the sleepy smile he wakes up to every morning and the warm body that presses against his and the tender touch and the soft kiss that he’s blessed with every night. His most steadfast supporter and cheerleader; spending weeks sleeping on fold out beds alongside of him in the hospital, always there in the recovery room when he comes to after a surgery, attending gruelling physiotherapy appointments and even lending a hand when she was heavily pregnant with Takota and Brooklyn. Never letting his misguided anger and frustration bring her down; always quick with a smile or a kiss to his cheek or a comforting and encouraging hand rubbing his back. No matter what, he’s always been able to rely on her being there. Enthusiastically greeting him the moment he walks through the door; whether he’s been gone a couple of days or a couple of weeks. Always happy to see him even if it’s through a FaceTime session; all the tension and the stress of the job evaporating the second she smiles and he hears her voice. Those little trips she’ll make into the gym or the office; bringing him something to drink or eat and then sitting quietly on the sidelines waiting for him to finish his workout or his job responsibilities. She’s always been there. Even during the darker and the more trying times; taking him back time and time again and forgiving the lies he’s told and overlooking the promises he’s broken.

When she leaves, he attempts to chase after her. Prepared to beg and plead with her to forget everything he’d said about wanting to die; just come back to the house where she’s safe and warm. He’ll do whatever it takes to make things right. To fix the mess that exists inside his head and become the man that she deserves; the rock and the fervent supporter and ferocious protector that she’s always believed him to be and he’s failed to live up to time and time again. He’ll tell her whatever she wants to hear; make promises that he fully intends to keep, attend more therapy if that’s what it will take, even do a stint in rehab to get all the carvings for the meds and the booze out of his system. There’s nothing he WON’T do for her; no monster or demon he won’t slay for her, no battle he won’t fight, no war he won’t suit up for. As long as she’ll just stay. Come back to their home and their children and their marriage; fulfill those vows of ‘til death to us part’. He wants to believe it isn’t about him; her need for breathing room and space. But he knows full well that he’s put too much of a burden on her; time and time again leaning on her and expecting her to give way more than she possibly has to give.

He has one foot out the door when the signs of life sounded from the floor above; giggling children and doors being tossed open and little feet racing for the bathrooms. And he has to abandon all plans on going after her; forcing himself to get his shit together for the sake of his children. There’s morning cuddles and kisses to give and mouths to feed. Tales of wild and vivid dreams to listen to and smart ass comments and jokes to laugh at. They rely on him more than she does; a grown woman that is fully capable of handling her own no matter what situation she finds herself tossed into. She’s strong and tenacious and extremely resilient; not needing him, but choosing to be with him and enjoying being provided for and loved and protected. His children fully depend on him; requiring him to put food in their bellies, having to assist the littles in getting clean up and dressed, being Tanner’s ‘person’ when it comes to needing stability and routine. And it frightens him in a way. The realization that she actually doesn’t require him; knowing full well that she’s more than capable of taking care of herself and their seven children. It further feeds into his belief that walking away would be easy for her; her strength and confidence urging to make a break for it. So self sufficient and so independent that one day she WILL decide that it’s all too much. HE’S too much. And his entire life will be forever altered.

TJ and Declan team up to keep the smallest kids busy; hunkering down with them in the living room and plying them with cartoons and their standard ‘appetizers’ of glasses of chocolate milk and poptarts. He tends to preparing breakfast; scrambling eggs and cutting and chopping various fresh fruits. Tanner stands on a chair beside him; excitedly rambling as he shares every detail about the extremely vivid and excited dream from the night before. Always the helper in the kitchen, he enthusiastically mixes three separate bowls of pancake mix because he always insists that ‘extras’ be added BEFORE starting the cooking process; bananas and chocolate chips for Brooklyn, raspberries and pineapple for Alannah and Millie. Tanner was the one he’d been most worried about; concerned that his mother’s uncharacteristic absence would frighten him and send his emotions into a tailspin. She hasn't just been Tyler’s constant, but the kids’ as well; practically raising them singlehandedly due to the job keeping away from home for weeks at a time. She’d spent six months being the only full time parent. Exhausting herself with caring not only for a home, but three preschoolers as well; Millie just shy of entering junior kindergarten and the boys still in daycare.

Mummy has always been there for ALL of the kids. Nurturing them and caring for them and spending the better part of seven years pregnant; selflessly sacrificing her body and some of her sanity in order to give him the large family he so desperately craved. Waiting until they were all old enough to be out of the house to make her dream of owning the bookstore come true; able to work around school and daycare schedules so she could spend as much as time as possible with them. And while it had been difficult at first for them to adjust to her being gone for prolonged periods of time, they’ve gotten used to it; accustomed with mum and dad going away -ALONE- for a week or two in order to give one another the attention and the time that they so rightfully deserve. They’re all strong in the belief and that faith that mummy will ALWAYS come back; never once fearing that if once she walks out the door, she’ll never walk back in. Mummy would NEVER abandon them.

It’s helped; keeping his body and his mind active. Concentrating on the simple task of making a meal and focusing on every word tumbling from Tanner’s mouth. Hearing the giggles and the conversations that drift into the kitchen from the living room. But the worry and the fear still nibble at him. It’s two fold; concerned not only that her time to think will lead her to the realization that she simply can’t deal with him and his issues any longer, and that there’s someone out there that would take advantage of her being alone. IF the neighbour is a threat, she isn’t working alone; too ‘out there’ with her curiosity surrounding him and his family to be the one in charge. It would be too obvious; her desperate attempts to get closer to him and cause issues in his marriage. Anyone with any background knowledge of him knows exactly what would hobble and weaken him; grabbing a hold of his wife and using her as a leverage. And as much as he tries not to allow his mind to go down that rabbit hole, it’s inevitable. The thoughts of what they’d do to her -mentally AND physically- enough to once again bring about the panic; chest tightening and his heart initially fluttering and then the pace quickening.

Five things you can see. Four you can touch. Three you can hear. Two you can smell. One you can taste.

He repeats it over and over again in his head. Thankful when his chest loosens and the nausea and the light headedness pass and his hands no longer tremble.

*****

Addie’s the last to join the family. Chin tucked into her chest and her hair falling over her face; a dramatic pout curving her lips and her normally brilliant and sparkling eyes dark and brimming with tears. Frederick the koala tucked tightly under her arm; not saying a word as she struggles to climb onto Tanner’s now empty chair. Impossibly tiny for five, but filled with confidence and independence and resiliency.

“What’s up with you?” Tyler inquires, and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “You look like someone kicked your puppy. Didn’t sleep well?”

“I slept fine.” That voice is tinier than usual, sad and full of despair. And she brushes her hair away from her face and presses the heel of a palm into one eye, then the other. “Where’s mummy?”

“She had to go out for a little bit.”

“Where? Where did she have to go?”

“To do stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Mummy stuff. Things mummies do.”

“Did she go to the store? Is that where she went?”

“I don’t know, Peanut. She just had to go out.”

She heaves a heavy, forlorn sigh. “When will she be back?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

He consults the digital clock on the stove. “Thirty minutes.”

“That’s a LONG time,” Addie whines. “ Why didn’t she tell me she was leaving?”

“You were asleep. She didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Mummy never leaves without saying bye to us. And she never leaves in the morning. She’s always here when we get up. Why would she go somewhere? She never does that. That’s not a normal mummy thing to do.”

“Well, sometimes things come up,” he attempts to reason. “That we can’t help. Don’t take it personal, okay? That she didn’t say bye to you. She probably thought you wouldn’t be up until later; when she was already home.”

“Can I call her?”

He nods in the direction of the phone charging on the nearby counter. “You could, but she didn’t take her phone.”

“Now I’m really worried,” Addie promptly bursts into tears. “Mummy never forgets her phone!”

“Ads, it’s okay,” TJ assures her as he joins them in the kitchen. Scooping his little sister off the chair and into a tight, comforting embrace, her tiny arms and legs immediately circling his neck and waist. And he presses a kiss to her forehead and strokes her hair; body proceeding to sway side to side in an attempt to soothe her. “Mum’s forgotten her phone lots of times. She was always leaving it behind when I was your age.”

Addie sniffles noisily. “She was?”

“Yup. You know how many times she had to run back into the house? Or we had to drive all the way back to get it? Tons! You just weren’t around then. By the time you came around, she’d gotten better at remembering it, that’s all.”

“She’s coming back, right?”

“Of course she’s coming back. She wouldn’t leave us. Or dad. Why would she do that?”

Addie shrugs.

“She loves all of us. Way too much to ever leave us behind. She probably just had to go and help Ovi and Riya. It gets crazy; planning a wedding. Tons of stuff to do. They probably just needed some help.”

“You think that’s it?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s it. I mean, they wouldn’t ask dad. He wouldn’t be much help.”

Tyler grabs one of the dish towels from off the handle of the stove and playfully swats his older son upside the back of the head with it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mum would be better at that kind of thing. Weddings and parties and all that. That’s not exactly your field of experience, dad. You’re more the get the spiders and the snakes out of the house and fix and build stuff kind of guy. And a big time ass kicker.”

“Daddy DOES kick a lot of ass,” Addie agrees.

“Plus, he’s a WAY better cook,” TJ adds. “So isn’t it kind of good that he’s the one that’s here? That he’s the one who gets to make breakfast?”

She nods. “Daddy makes the best breakfasts EVER.”

“Exactly. Mum and dad know their strengths. People who work well together do. And they’ve been together a long time; ever since Millie was in mum’s tummy. That’s a long time to be in love with each other. If dad says mum will be back, then she will. He knows her better than anyone.”

A lump of emotion settles in Tyler’s throat and threatens to choke him. It’s a mixture of things that have him feeling weak and vulnerable. The level of tenderness and compassion that inhabits his oldest son; the patience and the understanding and the unbridled love he shows to the smallest of his siblings. Addie has especially taken to him; TJ her ‘person’ if daddy isn’t around to turn to for help or comfort. He’s both humbled by his son’s genuine praise and blatant adoration, but left feeling unworthy of it; knowing full well he’s broken many promises and disappointed his children in the past and often failed in his role as not just a parent, but a husband. And the fear continues to nag at him; the worry that either his wife will return and announce she simply can’t take it -HIM- anymore, or that a threat is just waiting in the wings to grab her.

“I wish she didn’t have to go,” Addie says, as her older brother’s fingers brush away her tears. “Mummy always spends time in the morning with me. When I first get up. Ever since I was tiny.”

“Ads,” TJ pushes his fingers through her hair; moving it off her forehead and making her giggle when he scrunches his face and brushes the end of his against hers. “You’re STILL tiny.”

“I meant tiny, tiny. When I was still in diapers. Mummy would get up with me and she’d make herself a tea and she’d get me a drink in my sippy and then she’d cuddle me on the couch and we’d watch tv together. It’s our ‘thing’. I don’t want to miss our ‘thing’.”

“I’m sure mum didn’t want to miss your ‘thing’ either,” her brother assures her. “It had to be really important for her to miss it. Mum would never just skip out on your ‘thing’ for no reason. Does mum EVER do that? Take off and not do something important with us?”

Addie shakes her head. “Never.”

“So it had to be something really big and really important for her not to be here. Don’t worry; mum will be back. Soon.”

“How soon?”

“I dunno. Probably in time for breakfast. She has to eat, right? If it would make you feel any better, I’ll do your ‘thing’ with you.”

“It’s mummy and my thing, though.”

“I’m sure mum would be cool with me taking her place just once. It’s just for today; tomorrow she’ll do your ‘thing’ with you again. You really think she’d mind?”

“I don’t think so. But just this once.”

“Just this once,” TJ promises. “I’ll even drink tea. So it’s like being with mum.”

You HATE tea. Like daddy.”

“Yeah, I do. I think it tastes like ass. But I’ll drink it anyway. If it makes the experience better for you.”

“You’d do that? For me?”

“Of course I would. You’re my Ads. It’s what older brothers do for their baby sisters. Especially one as cute and awesome as you.”

Addie’s eyes widen. “You think I’m cute? And awesome?”

“Your mum’s Mini Me, right? And mum’s cute and awesome. That means you are too.”

“I love you Tyler.” She presses a noisy kiss to each of his cheeks, then his lips. “You’re the best big brother. Ever.”

“Well, don’t tell any of the others…” he lowers his voice to a whisper. “...but you’re my favourite little sibling.”

“I knew it!” Addie whispers in return.

“I’ll make my tea and get your chocolate milk,” he says, and places her on the ground. “You go wait in the living room. Tell Declan I said to put what YOU want to watch on.”

“Okay!” She hurries from the room, then stops at the breakfast bar that serves as the divider between kitchen and dining room. “Don’t forget! It goes in my favourite cup!”

“I know. The purple one with your name on it in pink glitter. This isn’t my first rodeo, Ads. I got you.”

“You’re awesome, too!” she declares, and then hurries for the living room.

“You’re good with her,” Tyler praises his oldest son. “VERY good with her.”

“She really IS my favourite,” he admits. “I mean, don’t get me wrong; I love ALL of them. Even Millie. Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“But there’s something different about Addie. The way I feel about her. Like, I feel like I HAVE to take care of her. Protect her. Maybe because she’s so small? And so cute? Maybe because she IS so much like mum? I don’t know. I just know how I feel. Does that make sense?”

“Total. And let’s face it; mum’s your favourite too.”

“Well, yeah. She’s my mum. She carried me inside of her. At the same time as Tanny. I love you, dad. You know I do. But that’s my mum.”

“You know, you’ve got more of her inside you than anyone realizes. And believe me, that’s a good thing. A damn good thing.”

“She’s my ‘person’. Like you are with Tanny. We all have our ‘person’. Mum is your person, right?”

“She is. Always has been.”

“Just like you’re hers. That’s what's good about you and mum. You’re not just married. You actually LIKE each other. You’re friends. BEST friends.”

“She’s definitely my favourite human. My favourite BIG human.”

“Dad…” TJ’s voice and face become sombre, and he lays a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “I don’t know what happened or what’s really going on. Or why mum really did leave. But I know she loves you. No matter what.”

The lump in his throat returns; tears well in his eyes.

“She’d never take off,” his son assures him. “There’s too much between you guys. I’m only ten and even I know that. And you what ELSE I know? I know that you guys are stronger together than you are apart.”

“Yeah…” Tyler swallows noisily. “...we are.”

“It’s going to be okay,” TJ promises. “YOU’LL be okay. You always are.”

****

She finds a cafe four blocks from home. A tiny hole in the wall place that she’s only stepped foot in once before; heavily scuffed and creaky hardwood floors, a half dozen mismatched tables with formica tops and metal chairs with weathered, red vinyl cushions, their full menu printed on chalkboards mounted on the wall behind the lone register. And she returns the waitress’ welcoming smile with a forced one of her own before making her way to the counter that stretches across the front window; sliding onto one of the bar stools and placing her knapsack style purse in her lap. While she’d been hopeful that the fresh air and warmer temperatures would help both clear her head and improve her mood, her nerves remain on edge; her shoulders painfully tense and the lingering uneasiness in her stomach no match for the deep and profound ache that has settled in her chest. It’s a hard thing to hear; the person you love more than anything in the world...who you’ve devoted your entire existence too...confess to thoughts of suicide. They’ve been there before; his brain attempting to convince him that her life would be better off without him in it. That he’d no longer be a burden on her. A broken and troubled man locked in a constant battle with his own mind; waging war against not only mental illness, but the demons of addiction and alcoholism.

Years ago he’d hit rock bottom. Weeks spent contemplating taking his own life; ending with a hand written suicide note on her pillow and a loaded gun in his hand. She’d returned to the house unexpectedly; forgetting her wallet in the bedroom and having to delay the start of a shoe shopping trip with the kids in order to retrieve it. There’d only been four of them then; Millie and the twin boys in daycare and Declan just shy of six months old, and she’d left them in the car with Ovi while she’d run inside. The house had been eerily still and quiet, yet she hadn’t given it much thought; assuming Tyler was either in the gym with his headphones on and music cranked or out working somewhere on the property. Her blood had run cold when she’d heard it; the faint, yet telltale sound of a magazine being snapped into a handgun and the safety being switched off. And she’d found him sitting on the edge of the tub in the bathroom, revolver resting on his thigh and his finger hovering near the trigger. To this day she’d never seen him look the way he had in the moment he’d regarded her standing in the doorway; face stern and determined and his eyes impossibly dark and empty.

“You need to leave.”

Four simple words. His voice devoid of all emotion.

She had refused to turn around and walk away. It hadn’t even been an option; no matter how nervous or terrified she’d been. She had known that he wouldn’t pull the trigger with her in the room; even at that depth of darkness and despair, he wouldn’t want her to see THAT. Knowing it would haunt her for the rest of her life; her entire world altered and forever haunted by blood and gore and instant death. And he wouldn’t have taken them both out; brain still allowing him to realize that he couldn’t rob his children of BOTH their parents. Instead of leaving, she’d sent Ovi a text message saying to grab the extra keys to her car from their hidden place in the kitchen and take the kids into town; ordering him to keep them out until she called him and let him know it was okay to return. Then she’d simply closed and locked the bathroom door and sat down on the front and leaned back against it. She wasn’t leaving him like that; determined not to let his mind convince him that he needed a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

Even to this day, she’s unsure of how long they’d sat there. Time slowly ticking away as they did nothing more than stare at one another from across the room. Tyler becoming agitated by her presence; upset that she’d interrupted him and was hampering from ‘getting on with it’. It had quickly turned to anger. Pissed off that she wouldn’t leave and that she wouldn’t listen to him when he said it was for the best; that his absence would make her and the kids’ lives so much easier. And she’d sat there silently as he ranted and raved at her; emotionless as he called her every hurtful name in the book in hopes of finally breaking her and giving her no choice but to abandon him. She hadn’t taken any of it to heart; knowing he was in the middle of what could possibly be a psychotic break and that getting all the pent up rage and fear and stress off his shoulders was the best thing for him. And when he turned the mean and degrading words towards himself, she’d slowly began moving towards him. Anything too sudden and too quick could have been bad news; aggravating him and angering him and sending him into a full out rage. Eventually she’d ended up sitting at his feet with her palms on his knees; eyes locked on his and her voice calm and steady when she informed him that she wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t the monster his brain was making him out to be. He was a big man with an even bigger heart, surrounded by people who loved him and wanted nothing more than for him to be alive and well. Reminding him to just breathe; to ignore that voice in his head and just listen to hers instead.

When he’d finally broken down emotionally, she’d been able to gingerly pluck the gun from his hand and remove the clip; tossing both where he couldn’t reach them and then kneeling between his splayed thighs. His face cradled in her palms as he openly wept; her heart breaking as she listened to all the hateful words -directed at himself- that spilled from his mouth. Pressing a series of light kisses across his forehead and down the bridge of his nose and over his lips; fingers combing through his hair as he begged and pleaded with her to help him. He was lost, confused, and terrified; wanting to die yet not wanting to leave her and his kids. In the end, he’d agreed to let her take him to the hospital, and she’d made quite possibly the hardest decision of her life: admitting him to the psychiatric ward and agreeing to have no contact -whether in person or by phone- for two weeks. It would give him the time to rest; body AND brain desperately needing a reprieve. And doctors would get the chance to analyze and investigate; come up with a diagnosis and a game plan and get him the help that he needed.

She hasn’t thought of it in years. That moment in Colorado when she’d come so close to losing him. It hasn’t been that bad since; able to get past the monsters and the demons that continue to haunt him, fighting through depressive episodes and always coming out the other side. And while she’d suspected that his brain has been playing horrible tricks on him and trying desperately to alter his version of himself, it had still hurt like hell to hear it; his confession knocking the air out of her lungs and nearly ripping her heart from her chest. She’s always been able to help him; yanking him away from many an edge, instilling confidence in him after Nathan had cruelly snatched it away, successfully convincing him that he needed medication or therapy. Now she feels helpless; no tricks or plans up her sleeve and simply no energy left to come up with any. It’s a lonely existence at time. A spouse with significant mental health problems and lingering physical issues caused by a list of traumas too vast to name.

For five years they’ve successfully fought back and kept the worst at bay. Learning and adapting healthy coping mechanisms, attending counselling -both separately and together- and making friendships with others in similar situations. This is the worst she’s seen him in a long time, and she knows how difficult it is for him to even get out of bed in the morning; fully aware that he’s at the point of putting one foot in front of the other simply because his family needs him to. She wants to believe that things will start to improve once they’re home. He’ll be back in his ‘happy place’; the warmth of the sun and the feel of the sand between his toes and the smell of the ocean. It’s comforting to him; their home at the end of a very secluded gravel road, the acres of property, and the water right in their backyard. The surroundings ground him. The sound of both the waves and the various wildlife that wanders their property, the wind that blows through the dense forest and tousles the leaves on the trees. He’s easily soothed there; usually needing nothing more than a hike through the woods or a surfboard and a couple hours with the waves to bring an end to even the roughest of ‘down moments’. But the fear is immense. The worry that not even being back in Australia will be enough this time. That he’s spiralling too hard and too fast and not even the water and the sun can make even the slightest bit of difference.

Tears threaten once more. Ones of heartache and fear and desperation. Wanting to reach out to someone...anyone...yet needing space at the same time. She’d avoid her familiar haunts out of fear of running into someone she knows. Wanting to avoid Jacobi with his endless and hopeful flirting and Frank with his dry humour and his well meaning concern and curiosity. Even Desi; the brother she would have loved to have growing up and who she absolutely adores. So compassionate and understanding; always lending a sympathetic ear or a shoulder to cry on. Coming in contact with him would have only made things worse; fearing she’d not only lose it emotionally, but find herself unable to put the pieces back together and be of use to her family. Instead she’d stayed away; wandering in the opposite and unfamiliar direction and hoping and praying her mind would sort itself out before coming in contact with humanity.

It hadn’t worked. And now emotion threatens to choke her and tears prick her eyes; thankful for the oversized shades she’d slipped onto her face before leaving the house.

*****

“You okay, hun?” The waitress cautiously approaches; a glass of ice water in hand and concern on her face. Easily recognizing the tense shoulders and the repetitive, nervous bounce to her legs.

“I’m alright." Her voice quivers with emotion, and she noisily clears her throat. “Just a rough morning.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that. A lot of people come in here when they’re feeling down. We're nice quiet, little place to escape to, I guess.”

Nodding in agreement, she reaches for the water offered to her; chewing anxiously on her bottom lip and quickly pulling her hands back when she notices how bad they’re trembling.

The waitress gives a compassionate, understanding smile and sets the drink down on the counter in front of her. “Do you know what you want, love? There’s no hurry and I’m by no means rushing you. You can take as long you need to decide or sit here all day if you want. Or until we close at three, at least.”

She casts a glance over her shoulder; hurriedly choosing a strawberry and apple flavoured and a plain croissant and then turning her attention to the bag in her lap. The kids had given it to her for her last birthday; picking it out themselves on a family trip they’d made weeks earlier to Cairns. Black leather with rose gold stitching around every edge and throughout the straps; a large rose gold heart -engraved with all of their initials- dangling from the zipper on the side pocket. She rummages through it, top teeth pressing into her bottom lip and her brow furrowing as her search comes up empty. Cell phone nowhere to be found amidst the chaos of old receipts, handfuls of take out napkins from places in New York City and back home, various small toys and trinkets the three littlest had gotten her to ‘hang onto’ and promptly forgotten about. Panic and frustration quickly sets in and has her dumping all of the purse’s contents onto the counter in front of her; trying desperately to hold back not only a flood of tears, but the string of profanities that threaten to burst from her mouth.

She knows the kind of drama it will cause at home. Not just her uncharacteristic early morning absence, but being totally ‘incommunicado’. Tanner and Addie will take it the hardest; the former not appreciative of even the smallest of changes or hitches to his normal routine and the latter used to their long standing ‘morning dates’ of tea and chocolate milk while cuddling on the couch and watching cartoons. And Tyler’s anxiety will be through the roof. Needing the reassurance that she’s fine; safe and sound and not in any danger and not harbouring any plans to abandon her family. The latter is pure paranoia; the long standing belief that she’ll one day see him as a burden and finally decide to cut ties. Logically he knows that she’d never walk away from him or their children; devoted to to their babies and loving him more than she ever thought she could love someone. But when his brain is waging war against him, he isn’t able to think rationally. Those internal voices screaming at him. Insisting that he’s simply too much work and completely undeserving of how she feels about him and the life they have together. And it’s him that she worries about the most; wanting to prevent his mental state from sinking even further and fracturing completely.

“Looks like you really are having a hell of a day,” the waitress comments as she returns with Esme’s order; placing the steaming mug of tea and the croissant on the countertop.

“I forgot my phone,” she frets. “Some days I swear I would lose my head if it wasn’t attached. And I need to call home. I REALLY need to call home.”

“I’ve got you, sweets.” The younger woman shoots her a wink and pats her shoulder comfortingly and then wanders off, quickly returning with a cordless phone and offering it with a sympathetic smile. “Someone there must be worried about you, huh?”

“A handful of someones. A husband. Seven kids.”

The other woman releases a long, low whistle. “YOU have seven kids? You’re not yanking my chain?”

“I’m not. I really do have seven of them.”

“All yours?”

Esme nods.

“Seven kids came from that tiny little body?”

“Yup,” she confirms. “Including two sets of twins.”

“Get out of here!”

“My second pregnancy was twins and my last one was twins. First time was two boys, then I had a girl and a boy.”

“I didn’t think that was possible. Having more than one set. How old are all these kids?”

“Almost twelve, ten and a half, eight, soon to be six, and four and a bit.” She finds talking about them calming; hands no longer trembling as she shoves objects back into her purse.

“That’s seven kids under twelve. And seeing as your littlest are four, you spent the better part of seven years pregnant. Intentionally?”

“A couple WERE surprises,” Esme admits. “Happy surprises. Very happy.”

“And all the same daddy?”

“All the same daddy. I know; it seems pretty far out there. Having that many. Especially in this day and age.”

“Not just THAT. But having that many and looking like you do? You must have found some fountain of youth or somethin’. I only have three and I feel like I’ve been through the damn ringer most days. You’re a lot stronger than I am, that’s for sure. And you must have the patience of a saint.”

“Oh trust me, I don’t. I have an extraordinary LACK of patience. My husband on the other hand? He’s a legend. He’s always Mister Calm, Cool, and Collected. Nothing much fazes him when it comes to being a dad.”

“Well what’s that saying? Opposites attract? You probably balance each other out.”

“We do. Somehow. He can be so serious and so quiet and introverted and I’m on the other end of the spectrum. He always jokes that he likes going places with me because all he has to do is stand there and smile and let me do all the talking.”

“Been married long?”

“Twelve years in October. Best twelve years of my life. Hands down. He’s a good guy." She smiles, and proceeds to repeatedly dunk the tea bag in and out of the steaming water. “A REALLY good guy.”

“Then you better give that really good guy of yours a call. Let him know you’re alright. Take your time. And enjoy your goodies.”

She gives a smile in appreciation. Waiting for the waitress to tend to other customers before dialling the house number; ten rings passing by before the call is sent to voicemail and she disconnects. She tries his cell next; frowning when that attempt also gets sent to messaging.

“Hey…” she begins, nervously drumming the nails on her free hand against the porcelain of her mug. “...you not answering your phone can only mean one of three things; you’re busy with the kids, you still refuse to answer numbers you don’t recognize, or you’re really pissed off and ignoring me. I hope it’s not the latter. I didn’t leave to punish you. Or make you feel bad. Or guilty. I just needed some time. Some fresh air. A chance to clear my head. It just really got to me; you admitting what you did. But we’ll deal with it and we’ll get past it just like we’ve gotten past so many other things. I love you, Tyler. No matter what your brain is telling you right now. And I’m safe and I’ll be home soon.”

Disconnecting the call, she sets the phone down on the countertop and slips her hands under her sunglasses; thumb and forefinger tightly pinching the bridge of her nose. Sighing heavily, she presses the heels of her palms into her eyes. Desperate to control the hot, bitter tears that threaten to fall.

*****

She’s halfway through her second mug of tea when movement outside the window catches her attention; a blur of a fur trimmed hood on a winter coat, long blonde hair that shimmers in the sunlight, and the glint off the gold chain strap of a ridiculously expensive Gucci bag. Next year’s style; released to only a select few that could afford to pay the exuberant price and enjoyed outwardly gaudy accessories. Natalie had been so proud of that purse; making a conscious and annoying effort to draw as much attention to it as possible when she stopped by that morning. Launching into an unneeded and entirely unwanted explanation of being on the ‘short list’ at many high end boutiques courtesy of friends in high places. So obnoxious. That 'holier than thou' persona and her valiant -and completely unsuccessful- attempts to cause problems in someone else’s relationship. Delusional and determined and so very out of line.

The waitress greets the other woman by name when she first steps into the cafe, and when Natalie turns to head towards a seat the inevitable happens; eyes locking with Esme’s and her face blanching and her smile quickly disappearing.

The anger is immediate. The surprise visits and the other woman’s attempts to degrade and humiliate her while standing on her front porch, the spying out the living room window and then following her and Tyler on their date, the supposedly coincidental moments Natalie had managed to bump into him; whether alone or with the kids. They’d long ago stopped keeping secrets from another and he’d been quick to tell her about all the run ins with their new neighbour. Neither believed the incidents were random; Natalie not exactly hiding her interest in him, nor her attempts at causing problems between them. And now knowing personal information that neither of them are ever forthcoming about; placing the blame on an undeserving TJ when confronted.

It’s the latter that infuriates her the most. One of her children being dragged into some thirsty and pathetic woman’s drama. And when Natalie quickly turns on her heel and rushes out the door, Esme abandons her belongings and hurries after her, managing to catch up when the neighbour has to stop and wait to cross the street.

“I don’t fucking think so,” she snarls, and steps in front of other woman, preventing her from stepping off the curb. “You’re not going to run away. Not from me. You have pissed in the wrong woman’s front yard way too many times.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t…”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about. Is this some sick little game of yours? Following Tyler and I around? Trying to act all surprised and pass it off as a coincidence when we run into you?”

“It IS a coincidence. All of it is. Just because you’re paranoid…”

“I’m not some stupid and naive little housewife, Natalie. I have been around sneakier and way craftier and sketchier people than you and believe me, I was never shy about calling any of them out on their bullshit. There’s no way they’re all coincidences. The night Tyler and I went on our date? We saw you watching us out your living room window. You didn’t exactly try and hide it. And then you just randomly show up at the same restaurant? Who was the guy? Just some stranger off the street? Did you really think we’d care? That you’re with someone? I don’t give a shit who or what you do. And I know damn well Tyler doesn’t either.”

“He’s certainly been pretty attentive. To me. For a guy that doesn’t care.”

Esme scoffs. “When he said you were delusional, I don’t think he realized just how far off the reservation you actually are.”

“He said that? He called me delusional? Why would he say that? Why…?”

“Because you ARE! You are off the charts delusional! And maybe you’re more than that. Maybe you’re legit insane. Because you are something else. You are conceited and annoying and plain fucking crazy. Who the hell do you think you are? Showing up at my house and talking to me like you do. Following my husband around. Do you actually wait for him to leave? Do you stand at your window and watch him go? Do you just wait around to see him and jump at the opportunity to chase after him? Because that’s not all creepy or stalkerish. What the hell is your issue?”

“We had a connection. At the park. At the restaurant that day. Yesterday at the American Girl store…”

“Oh my god,” Esme laughs. ”You ARE nuts. Certifiably. There was no connection. At least not on his end. He thinks you’re just as insane and unhinged as I do. Tyler is NOT interested in you. In anyone. I don’t know what planet you’re living on where you think you can just walk into someone else’s life and try and steal their husband away, but…”

“You can’t steal what wants to be taken.”

“I can guarantee that he doesn’t want to go anywhere. That my husband is happy. Satisfied. Extremely. And he’s not going to throw that or his relationship with his children away for someone like you. He doesn’t want anything to do with you. He has made that perfectly clear time and time again. He has told you to stay away from him. More than once. I don’t know what part of ‘fuck off’ you don’t understand…”

“He’s just putting on a good front. For you. Because he DOES love you. He’s just not IN LOVE with you. Not anymore. And it happens. It’s been over ten years. People fall out of love all the time. I mean, he obviously loves you as the mother of his children. You’ll always have that to bond you together.”

“There is something majorly wrong with you. You need help. PROFESSIONAL help. My husband DOES love me. In every way you can possibly love a person. I have never doubted that. Not a single moment in the past twelve and a half years. We have a good thing. A damn good thing. And we are not letting you screw that up. You’re obnoxious and you’re insane and I want you to stay away from him. Stay away from Tyler. He’s told you and now I’ve told you. And if I have to tell you again…”

Natalie smirks. “What would YOU do about it?”

“Why don’t you try me and find out? I have dealt with bigger and better and badder than you. And I’m still here. I am telling you right now; stay away from my husband and stay away from my kids. Don’t walk past our house. Go totally out of your way if you have to. But if I find out that you even go past a place where he is…”

“And you call me nuts? Listen to you. Willing to fight for some man.”

“He’s not just some man. He is my husband. The father of my children. And I will fight to the death for him. I will protect him no matter what. Against anything and anyone. Stay away from him, Natalie. He’s not yours to have. He’s not going anywhere. So go and find some cuckold house wife that will let you tie her to chair and force her to watch while you fuck her husband. You’ve got the wrong woman to mess with. I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of ANYONE. Stay away from him.”

“Look at you. You say I’m pathetic? Look how you’re acting. Listen to things you’re saying. You’re possessive and controlling and…”

“Maybe if you had a husband that loved you and you loved in return, you’d understand why I’m being this way. But it sounds like you can’t keep ‘em. What happened to the District Attorney? In Chicago?”

Natalie blinks. “What?”

“Did you forget that the internet exists? That once something is on there, it lives forever? Couldn’t keep him happy, couldn’t keep a string of extremely wealthy -AND very much older- men happy before him. And then there’s the ex husband. Doesn’t he own a sports team? Hockey, right? In Columbus?”

“How do…?”

“What? You think you’re the only one that has ‘people?’” Esme makes air quotes around the last word. “You have no idea the circles I’ve travelled in. Or the people I’m still in contact with. Or the friends I have. I have ways of finding things out. Ways you’ve probably never dreamed of. I don’t know what you’re up to, but you’re not very good at it. You’ve made it more than obvious that you’re interested in Tyler; physically, sexually, personally. You haven’t even tried to hide it. So you’re either really new at all this, or just really, REALLY bad at it.”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re not making any sense. Now if you’ll just…” Natalie attempts to step past her, but Esme stays firm; placing herself in the much taller women’s path and blocking her escape.

“You didn’t think I’d look into you? Or have someone look into you? We can dig deeper, you know. Much, much, MUCH deeper. And I don’t think you want that. So how about you cut the shit and stop your crap and stay away from my husband. From my FAMILY. Because you have no idea who you are messing with. What kind of damage we can do. So if you value your life the way it is, you’d keep your distance. Because if you don’t? We will turn over every stone and ruin you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“That’s a promise. Like I said; we’ve dealt with bigger and better. Scarier. And dangerous. You’re nothing. You’re a small, harmless fish in a big pond. And it would be easy to ruin you. Is that really a chance you want to take?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Or who you’re talking about. I admit; I AM interested in Tyler. Very interested. And I’m not lying to you when I say there was a connection. One that he’s too afraid to act on.”

“You’re still on that, huh? Still insisting there's something there? There isn’t. And you damn well know it. Tyler would never, EVER, form a connection with anyone else. Especially with the likes of you. So knock it off, Natalie. It is all one sided and I’m sorry that hurts you to hear this, but my husband can’t stand you. He thinks you’re nuts. And he wants you to stay away from him. How many times does he need to tell you? How much plainer does he need to be?”

“He doesn’t want to hurt you. I’m sure at one time he loved you with everything he is and everything he has but…”

“He DOES love me. With everything he is and everything he has. And he loves his life with me. With his children. There is nothing between the two of you. There never will be. So unless you want things to get very unpleasant for you, you’ll back off.”

“Is that why he came onto me? At the American Girl store yesterday? Is that why he propositioned me? Suggested we abandon the kids for a bit and find a storage closet?”

Esme chuckles. “Right. Because THAT would totally happen. First of all, my husband is NOT a cheater. He is -and always has been- one hundred percent faithful and loyal. No other woman in the world exists to him. Not you, not anyone else. Just me. That’s it.”

“Is that what he tells you? Stroke the old ego? Let you think everything is okay and he’s not straying?”

“That IS what he tells me. I know Tyler better than he knows himself. And when he says things like that? He is one hundred percent genuine. I have spent twelve and a half years with that man. Sharing a bed with him. A life. I know him in ways no one else does. So don’t even try and pretend you have any clue who he is or what he thinks or how he feels.”

“And you call me the delusional one? That’s rich.”

“Second of all, even if he WAS a cheater, he would never do something like that; suggest something that crude and disgusting. Not with two of his children and his granddaughter right there. I don’t know what kind of married men you’re used to opening your legs for, but my husband isn’t like them. He is a decent, good man. Who loves his family. Who’d do anything to protect them. Who would stop at nothing to keep us all together. So you can try this bullshit until you’re blue in the face. You could talk all day about it; tell lies about him and try and convince me that he’s a horrible person and that he wants to leave me for you. I won’t believe you. Because I KNOW him. And I also know you’re a lying piece of shit.”

“Well you just know everything, don’t you,” Natalie sneers. “Little Miss Perfect. With her great marriage and her horde of children and all her money and big, beautiful house and amazing life in Australia. You’ve just got all the answers.”

“I am far from perfect. I’m the first one to admit I’m anything but. But I recognize a train wreck when I see it. And you are the biggest I’ve seen by far. Stay away from my husband and stay away from my kids. If you ever even think about dragging one of my children into your crap again, I will come to your house and pull you out by your hair and beat your ass in the middle of the street.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Mess with my husband or my kids again, and I won’t try. I will do it. Don’t underestimate me. Tougher people than you have made that mistake. Walk away, Natalie. If you know what’s good for you. I won’t tell you again.”

“You have no idea who you’re threatening, little girl. No idea at all.”

“God, you’re a real piece of work, you know that? And I’ve worked with some real winners, let me tell you. Just stay away. From Tyler, from my kids, from me. Or the next time you’re told? It won’t be this civil.”

Gathering the sides of her hoodie around her body, she crosses her arms over her chest to hold the fabric in place; eyes on the sidewalk as she begins the short trek back to the cafe. Exhaustion suddenly taking hold; a level of weariness that muddles your brain and seems to settle deep within your bones. She wants nothing more than to go home; kiss and cuddle her children and hear their voices and their giggles. And to be engulfed by those big, strong arms; so powerful and capable of so much damage, yet impossibly soothing and gentle at the same time. Her own arms curling around his waist; eyes closing as he tucks her protectively and lovingly into that solid, muscular chest. No matter how trying and stressful and scary a situation, everything in the world seems right when she’s with him; the warmth of his body and the familiar smell that clings to his clothing and the sound and the feel of his heart beating against her. It’s as if time stands still; everything and everyone else in the universe ceasing to exist. It’s always been like that; feeling safe and secure and protected whenever she’s in his presence. And she reminds herself that they’ve gotten through worse; the demons of his past, his ongoing battles with alcoholism and drug abuse, a six month separation, the aftermath of both trips to Dhaka. And each time they’ve only grown stronger; that intense and profound bond pulling them through even the darkest and scariest of situations. This too shall pass. It will take days. Weeks. Maybe even months. But It WILL pass. And as long as they remain a united front, nothing -or no one- could possibly destroy them.

She reaches for the handle on the cafe’s door just as another customer emerges. Slightly startled when the glass and metal swings towards her; giving a small yelp and jumping back and flattening herself against the brick behind her.

“Sorry about that, miss.” The patron steps through; placing a hand on the door and keeping it open for her. “Didn’t mind to startle you.”

“It’s okay. I was in my own little world and…”

Her voice trails off when she looks up at him, smile quickly fading. Heart hammering wildly in her chest; entire body going rigid and sweat gathering along her hairline as her stomach churns agonizingly. It’s been years since she's seen him; tall and barrel chested and broad shouldered light brown hair now almost completely gray, sparkling hazel eyes. Logically she knows it can’t really BE him. After all, Nathan had ended his life years ago in New Zealand; effectively wiping out any threat he could have posed, yet doing very little for the torment and the heartache that he’d caused her. The years of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse that very nearly broke her.

It isn’t possible. The dead simply don’t come back.

“Are you alright?” He asks, and lifts a take out cup of coffee to his lips. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m just...I’m…” she struggles to gather her composure. There’s a distinct twang to the man’s voice. Brooklyn, if she can recall from her time spent in New York City. Her mind swims; the shock of seeing a deceased man's face and the lingering terror that his hands, words, and body had long instilled in her. “I’m fine,” she manages a smile. “You just look like someone I used to know. That I was pretty close to. Took my breath away.”

“Good memories, I hope.”

“There’s some,” Esme admits. “But I’d be lying if I said there weren't more bad ones.”

“Well I hate hearing that. Especially coming from a pretty little thing like you. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay. I was in my own little world. It's just been quite the morning. To say the least. And seeing you…”

“What’s that that people say? About everyone having a twin out there somewhere? That’s probably the case. I’m probably that guy’s twin. Sorry if my face brings back some bad things for you.”

“It’s alright. I think I need to just get home. Back to my family. I’ll feel better then.”

“I hope so. You take care now. Sorry to have spooked you. You have a good day. With that family of yours.”

“I will,” she manages another smile; not as nervous and shaky. “Thank you.”

She remains in the open doorway, watching as he saunters down the street. No sign of a hitch to his left leg or a swing to the right hip; injuries Mark had sustained when a tank in a convoy he’d been travelling in hit a roadside bomb; the blast powerful enough to eject him from the light armoured vehicle travelling meters behind. Between the normal gait and the Brooklyn accent…

“Get it together.” she orders a loud, and briefly closes her eyes. “He’s dead. Long dead. There’s no way it’s him. It CAN’T be him.”

Taking in a deep breath, she releases it slowly and opens her eyes, frantically searching for the man that had stood before her just a few short moments ago. The sidewalk is empty for blocks. No sign of her dead ex’s ‘twin’; no one rounding a corner, no car pulling away from any of the curbs. Her heart begins to settle; the pounding in her chest and her ears relenting and the terror that once held her firmly in its grasp finally letting go.

[juniaships]

Jora Holiday Bio **Update 2021**

The following paragraphs contains information exclusively for the original series.

Full Name: Jora Ladybird Holiday

Age: 9, 29 (Ben10000); 39 (Ken 10)

Birthday: March 31/April 1 (she was born 11:59pm on March 31)

Species: Human

Race: African American

Fandom: Ben 10 (classic&reboot), The Secret Saturdays (crossover), Generator Rex (crossover), Cartoon Network/CN City (crossover)

Voice Claim: Kimberly Brooks; Brandy Norwood is another alternate choice

Character Role: Friend and love interest to Ben Tennyson

Powers/Abilities: Rot Inducement, Mycokinesis, Poison/Toxin Immunity, Self Healing/Regeneration, Moderate Chronokinesis (Time-Acceleration)

Items: Vials, Mini Lab, Gloves

Relationships

Family: Jeremy (father), Mavis (mother), Tasha (sister), Pattibelle (first cousin) Ginger (family friend); Kenny, Kendrix & Belle (future children), Devlin (adopted son/cousin in law(?))

Friends: Ben & Gwen Tennyson, Max Tennyson, Cooper Daniels, Richard Mortis, Mama G (future mentor)

Acquaintances: Ginger T. Glass, Tamika

Love Interest: Ben is her primary love interest, as seen with their eventual future together as well as hints and blatant displays of "puppy love."

Enemies: Pretty much every villain in this show; her personal arch-nemesis is Kudzu, a lifestyle expert & entrepreneur who initially tried to gentrify Jora's neighborhood & ruin her family's business. Other villains include Master Mortis (Richard's creator), and Kudzu's bounty hunters.

Appearance

- Dark Skinned African American girl

- Chubby, shorter than Ben and Gwen

- Has dark brown hair styled in twisted pigtails, pink hair scrunchies

- Black Bead Eyes//dark brown

- Wears lilac lacy gloves

- Wears three different outfits through the show:

- Season 1: Yellow t-shirt, pink shorts, beige sandals

- Seasons 2&3: Pink and Yellow striped tank top, orange skirt, and same sandals

- Season 4: Pink and white t-shirt, yellow capris with orange belt, and purple shoes

Personality

A sweet and quiet girl, Jora Holiday did not consider herself to be special. She lacked friends in school and kept to herself out of fear of getting bullied. This was because she had to deal with her mutant powers since they came into fruition as a very small child. Jora normally tries to avoid or deflate conflict, though deep down she does get a little fed up with playing peacemaker if the squabbling persists. Jora is compassionate and humble, never boastful but also bashful when it comes to compliments and praise. Of the four kids she is regarded as the nicest.

Because of her powers Jora has clean freak tendencies in her desire to look as normal as possible. She tried to avoid gross situations, although later down the line she learns it's okay to dirty her gloves - literally.

But with sweetness comes sourness, as she does have a passive-aggressive side towards slights, whether real or perceived. She didn't get along with Tasha, feeling as though the latter didn't care for her (which isn't true). Jora tends to be oversensitive and takes things too personally, ans even can be prone to tears if provoked hard enough. She also bears lingering resentment and shame over the partial ailments her element brings; these feelings fade away over time as she grows to accept her powers and adapt to her condition. One of her biggest flaws is her timidness and inability to stand up for herself and others. She also didn't get along with Ben for a while, though they get better quickly.

Jora has a love of nature, as shown with her hobby of collecting flowers and mushrooms. She despises animal abuse of any kind, and strives to be a bit more conscious of the environment. She also seems to have no phobia towards bugs, and thus is the designated "spider catcher" on the Rust Bucket.

Jora has a passion for fashion and a girly sense of style, preferring to dress in bright or pastel colors. Her love of nature and love of fashion could lead to a career based on environmentally friendly beauty products.

Ben 10000: Lavender shortsleeved dress and white apron

Adult Appearance

When she grows up Jora is considerably more capable of handling herself. She gets upset when people see and treat her as a fragile thing, seeing as though they don't trust her. She also is very in tune with nature, spending her days off on long walks in the forests, or at her homemade lab making potions.

In this timeline she was a waitress who worked after shifts as a vigilante. At the time the Hero of Heroes didn't know who this mysterious woman was, although he was struck by familiar feelings.

Ken 10: Mint Green blouse and pink maxiskirt with pink wristwatch (which is actually her transformation device)

Costume: White bodysuit with light purple accents, helmet and visor.

Powers:

Jora has the element of Decay (&Rebirth), which enables her to induce decomposition in organic material.

Techniques

- While not proficient at hand to hand she can run fast in short bursts and have stamina

- Generate spore clouds to obscure vision and block a person's airways

- Increase or decrease the rate the decay

- Increase or decrease the size of mushrooms, from giant prehistoric constructs to miniature samples to be used for medicine

- Create a slippery puddle of rot to make opponents fall

- Throw globs of inky, rotting matter to create fungus or for long range

- Autumn Leaf Tornado

- Create Penicillin (first "upgrade")

- Able to "purify" corrupted Mycellium in the episode "Camp Fear"

- Scavenger-animal Empathy

- Forensics (adult level)

- Fossil Fuel Manipulation (adult level)

- Floral Manipulation (adult level, possibly teen)

- Acid Spit (adult level)

- Hallucinations (teen level)

Weaknesses

- Her power has little to no effect on material such as metal, glass, synthetic fabrics, stones

- Has to wear her gloves at all times which can be tedious and uncomfortable

- Lacks strength and hand-to-hand proficiency

- Weak to extreme heat & cold

- Shroom Constructs can be easily destroyed if not continually reinforced

- Unable to control her powers if under extreme duress

- Requires weapons to compensate for elemental weaknesses

- Requires a source for better potency

Strengths

- Immune to Time related attacks since her powers are considered a form of chronokinesis

- Create healing potions

- Immune to mycotoxins and can decrease and even render dangerous mushrooms safe for consumption (handy for outdoor missions)

- Powers seem to increase in wet environments, the Moon

- Her kind gentle personality makes it easier for her to restrain the dangerous potential of her abilities

- Memorized enough species of fungi and has her own mini lab to safely store and carry samples

- Natural empathy towards others

- Quick learner, continually studies her powers and traits to adapt

Background

Born the second child to floral shop owners Jeremy and Mavis Holiday, Jora had a normal childhood in the comfy small town of Annville, SC. A quiet child, she spent after-school helping around the shop. They were small yet popular with the townsfolk, reputed for their knowledge of plants and colorful arrangements. However that normalcy took a detour when Jora's powers camemto fruition.

When people started to notice more and more plants dying, that in turn led to decrease in customers and soon the shop began to undergo financial trouble. One day, a beautiful woman named Kudzu came into the store offering to buy the place from Jeremy. See, Kudzu was one of the wealthiest and powerful people in town. He refused. The next day Kudzu came again with another proposition. Again Jeremy refused. This occurred all through the week, until finally a very irritated Mavis demanded Kudzu to leave their family alone. That time, Kudzu left and didn't ame back after that. The couple was relieved. Jora was nervous.

One day, just as Tasha and Jora were at the last day of school anf thr parents were off to cash in their winning lottery ticket, the floral shop caught fire! The firefighters were called and put out the blaze, but it left their shop and home in charred ruins.

Jora felt very guilty: if she never had her powers, there wouldn't have been such an awful domino effect. The fire was ruled as a freak accident, however Jeremy and Mavis believed that other forces were at work. They couldn't prove their theories as their suspect had too much power and leverage to be fought one on one. So they came up with a plan: they would spend the summer working to add money to the saved money while their kids go out of town. Mavis called upon an old friend from trade school to take the girls on vacation (somewhere safe from Kudzu).

The next couple of days after staying at a shelter, the girls were able to buy a few new outfits and essentials and told to wait for a brown and white RV. When the RV arrived, out came a older gentlemen in a bright scarlet Hawaiian shirt, with two children trailing behind him. He introduced himself as Max Tennyson, and the two kids were his grandchildren Ben and Gwen.

Trivia

Jora has a nature motif to contrast Ben's aliens and Gwen's magic.

Overall Jora is the most normal member of the team; her family has no connection to the Plumbers or magic.

Jora doesn't have signature color, the closest would be pink and yellow since those are colors she tends to wear the most of.

I made Jora so that there'd be another main girl in the cast and because the show didn't have a black female character (despite having nonwhite female characters of other ethnicities, and black male characters)

She does not have a major role in UAF; instead her storyline is seen as a spinoff (think Static Shock to the Justice League) focusing on smaller-scale plots with occasional cameos from main cast

Jora does come back in Omniverse to replace Gwen as the female lead; she is joined by Dr. Azura (Secret Saturdays OC), Myra Hopewell (GenRex), Ginger T. Glass, and her cousin Patti.

It is unknown whether her power is genetics or a random mutation.

In the Ben 10000 timeline she and Ben broke up because Ben tried to forbid her from going on active missions as a way to keep her safe. Obviously she didn't like that and left. They do reconcile at the end of the episode.

Out of my OCs for this fandom Jora is the lead character, followed by Kendrix

Jora's powers can vary based on the type of fungi she's using at the time. So her colors could range from inky-black to a gorgeous green

She is a candidate to take on the mantle of Mother Nature (currently held by Mama G)

Her hobbies are: reading comics and books primarily fantasy genre, costume design, hiking, floral pressing, DIY crafts, and insects

Due to her timid nature she has a fear of public speaking.

I don't have a claim for her in the live action films sorry!!

Jora is a foil for Kevin in that she was born with destructive powers. Unlike Kevin, she learned to rely on friends to help her stabilize her powers.

- A recurring subplot is the girls encountering and escaping from Kudzu's hired goons sent to track them down.

Jora was going to have standard plants and flowers as her power but I wanted to go for nontraditional elements instead.

The irony is that she's a softie dressed in bright colors and respects life, yet has a power related to death.

- At the end of the show she reunites with her parents and they're able to rebuild their business. She also stands up to Kudzu and exposes the woman for the rotten POS she is

Quotes:

"Pot, meet kettle. Kettle, meet face!"

"I like comic books. My favorite is the Fantasia Legends."

"If you're supposed to be Lucky Girl then why dress up like a black cat?"

"There's a lot of stories hidden beneath these trees. You just gotta know where to look."

"I'm not that scared little girl you used to pick on, Ben. I think you know I can take care of myself."

"Look I didn't get to choose my powers okay! But Kudzu chose to set our family's house on fire and I'm not gonna sit back and watch her hurt anyone else!"

"It's okay. I'll help you."

"It's called having good manners. You should try it sometimes."

"Leave. Them. Alone!"

"Please let this be a normal day this time!"

"You're like a mushroom. Unassuming at first, but something unique and vibrant!"

"Ben I don't know how to say this but... you're not alone. Don't ever think you're alone."

"I hope you'll be able to see that there's more to life than just money and business but until that day comes, we'll all do very well without you!"

"I may make things rot but the both of you are rotten to the core!"

Recent Pictures

Reference sheets for Omniverse

Sketches:

[toooldforfandom-liveblogs]

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power S01E11 - Promise

I'm trying to think if there have been any big promises made so far but I can't remember any. A new promise then! Considering how it ended it could be Glimmer promising something to Angella (or the other way around,) or Catra and Adora maybe promising something after whatever needs to happen in the Beacon happens. I don't know so let's do this!

The post-post-apocalyptic backdrop of the show really intrigues me. This scene wouldn't be out of place in any of those stories, the primitive character asking something beyond their understanding in ways that we, as the viewer, know it's not how it works. I'm still wondering if the magic they all use it's just some sort of future tech.

That's... a pretty complex question to make to an AI assistant, ask anyone who has used Siri.

Yeah.

I wonder if it's because it requires a specific sentence structure or if Adora needs to be She-Ra.

Imagine having to transform into She-Ra every time you log into your bank's website. The ultimate form of 2-step auth.

Ooh, lore. So that's why the Sword (or She-Ra) doesn't need to be recharged, it's its own source of energy, just like the other rune stones I assume.

oh my god her face

pictured: me yelling at Alexa to do something for the fifth time

That seems weirdly less robotic. Was this recorded after the original programming?

Noooot a big fan of what this framing implies. Does She-Ra need to let go of her past as Adora, including her friendship with Catra?

I love that even though they are "enemies" Catra's first reaction is to go "I know you didn't mean to hurt me so wtf!"

Their relationship is such a tragedy. They know each other so well that they instantly start working together almost by instinct, years of friendship and training coming to the fore. It's only when they start thinking that it all goes to crap.

We know Adora's reasons to leave the Horde, what's Catra's reason to stay? Is it only because she feels betrayed by Adora and is digging her heels? Or maybe she doesn't want to abandon the one place she's known all her life? She may have a pretty bad relationship with Shadow Weaver but she's still the one who seems to have raised her. I think I asked the same questions a couple of episodes ago but I can't help it, Catra's motives are still a mystery!

The change to a shield makes slightly more sense now that I know the sword's name.

Can't wait for four seasons of this.

Her complete nonchalance is so good

This is like saying goodbye to someone and then finding out you're going the same way.

Did Adora always have the ability to read the language of the First Ones but never got the chance to do it (because they apparently are controlling info about the FO in the horde and maybe she never went out of the fright zone) or was it something the Sword infused into her?

Funko Pop Adora.

For as much as Catra complains to Adora about going somewhere else, she didn't even try to respond to Adora's "attack" even though it was a bit of a surprise.

OH MY GOD I'M NOT READY FOR THIS LOOK AT THAT CUTIE

Please tell me the "promise" is not something they promised when they were kids, especially something about taking care of each other. My heart is not ready for that.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THEY ARE SO CUTE

...is Octavia the fish woman from last episode with an _eye patch_? Damn, Catra.

oh my god Adora, you just can't tell other people they are dumb faces

Hopefully, it's not about "letting go of your attachments~" and more about letting go of the guilt she's carrying around.

I like that they are addressing this and actually talking about it. Or at least Adora is trying to.

And that's why. Catra may be on the opposite side of the war, angry at being betrayed and probably really confused about everything but she still can't bring herself to give up on Adora and their history together.

These two are too damn cute.

Wow, her defenses got up pretty early. She's already deflecting. Was it all because Adora got better treatment?

Oof. Already lying to herself and Adora to protect her pride.

"Displays of physical weakness are discouraged in the Horde"

I doubt emotional "weakness" fares much better, especially with Shadow Weaver as their guardian. When did she stop showing her vulnerability to Adora? How long has their relationship been based on only what Catra decides is safe to display?

Oh. Did whatever happened in there start Catra on her path?

Yeah. That'd do it. Well, that and the multiple other times Shadow Weaver has probably abused her over the years. Being told you're disposable and useless? Being always compared unfavorably to a sibling? It's a miracle Catra still likes Adora.

How do you _not_ resent the favored sibling? They were just kids and there was nothing Adora could have done but this resentment born from trauma doesn't need to be rational.

This is the cutest saddest hiss ever.

aaaaaaaaaaaaa the promise was exactly what I thought it was going to be and it's just as sad as I expected

This feels important, in a "what would you tell your 7-year old self?" way. Would you feel proud of what you've become? Of your decisions? Or would you try to steer them away from your current self?

That music and expression don't give me much hope that the result of her introspection was good.

With these situations, there's always the question if the character is telling the truth or if they are just lying to protect themselves. For maximum drama it can be both, telling the truth but not all of it. I may be wrong but I think Catra is doing that. She believes everything she's saying but that doesn't negate everything else she feels about Catra. She's letting Adora go because anything else would continue to hurt her.

And here's the reminder that Adora also needs to let go. Good thing that Catra made it so easy, huh? Hm.

Can't wait for Scorpia's feelings to get hurt because of her believing that. And by "can't wait" I mean "please don't let it happen, my heart can't take more of this"

Oof, direct hit to her heart. This show seems to like doing this kind of thing, huh? First with Adora saying "I'd never leave my friends behind" and now this.

---

Well, that was heavy.

Catra continues to be the most interesting character of the show, with her resentment, her constant deflection, raised defenses and her actions ringing very true to the trauma she's suffered. The way she exploded at Adora feels like the first step to healing since she finally was able to tell her how she really felt about a lot of things but I'm guessing there'll be a lot more drama before they can actually heal their relationship.

Did she really intend to kill Adora o was she simply playing her part as a villain to stop the security system from attacking Adora? Would Catra even be able to answer that question?

About everything else:

* Tiny Catra and Adora were custom-made to make me squeal at their cuteness and break my heart at the same time.

* Why does Shadow Weaver need the powers from her Black Garnet(?) to survive? What happened to her to leave her like that? Did it happen before or after leaving Mystacor? Did it happen when she found Adora? Or maybe Catra? That could explain how she treats her.

* Is Adora going to discover her "destiny" next episode? Her past? Her vision explained?

* One of the reasons why I didn't really think about Catra/Adora as a couple that could get shipped until Princess Prom is that from their first appearance they've always felt more like siblings and this episode didn't really help to dispel that notion. Of course, their relationship is a lot more complicated than just that.

* Scorpia seems to really like Catra and I fear it'll end up hurting her when Catra is unable to lower down her defenses to let her in. Hopefully, it'll go the other way and Catra will be able to trust her at least as a friend. At least she seems to be getting along well with Entrapta.

I think that's all for now, until next time!

[sherlzm19]

It is during the phase of adolescence that individuals experience the persistent drive to establish the self against society and authority. Exhibited through various ways like behaviour, thoughts, speaking, etc. During teenage, there goes a stubborn urge to disregard all norms and ways of the world and build one’s own, usually in terms of self. Teenage is the phase when individuals look at the world beyond what they considered as “right” and “wrong” as a child and start to question; for as a child, there was compliance and obedience to parental authority and teachings of educational and societal institutions. However, one crucial aspect that the teen develops during this turning point of their emotional and psychological development is that of the ideal.

Adolescence witnesses the development of the prefrontal region of the brain, the part that involves thinking and judgement. That means, the teenager now develops their own ideas and defines them.

Adolescence may be regarded as the transition stage from the Innocence of childhood to the Experience of adulthood. Teenagers begin to see the world in a different perspective and see through some of its workings. But this is the time when they have barely achieved anything, in terms of skills, abilities or personality. And so, the never-ending strife to reach their fullest potential and establish themselves begin.

This is about how teenagers with an extreme regard for the self and the desire to control have the potential to be significantly affected by the story of Death Note (especially because it falls in the Shōnen category of anime). Now, I am not of the opinion that children should be left in the illusionary world of fairy-tales (in fact, I think poetic-justice should never be introduced to kids at all, but that is for a different discussion). Nor am I accusing Death Note for its bleak depiction of power and justice (I fangirl over how true it is to reality).

This is about how rebellious teens may develop megalomania in the context of Death Note.

Firstly, what is Megalomania?

It is a mental disorder characterized by an excessive, painful increase in attention to one’s own person.

This disease is a delusional type of self-awareness and personality behaviour expressed by an extreme degree of overestimation of one’s importance, fame, popularity, wealth, power, genius, political influence, and even omnipotence. “Megalomania” originates from the Greek “μεγαλο” – very large or exaggerated, and “μανία” – passion, insanity.

So, megalomania is a kind of mental disorder when one tends to overestimate their own abilities and possibilities.

In Death Note, protagonist Light Yagami is introduced to us as a top student holding an apathetic disgust towards the “rotten” world as well as bored out of his mind. He already knows how terrible the world really is. And there is not anything he or anyone can do to change it. In that way, one might say that Light has already achieved the Experience which requires one to realise the nature of reality.

Teenagers, in their process of disregarding the societal norms, hold their own recently developing opinion in high regard. They come to realise that the monster under the bed is very real. And there is no escaping it. It only depends on whether you fight it, or let it tame you. Being controlled, being subdued are not ideal situations for a raging teenager.

They begin to see the world as Light already saw it in the first episode of the anime. But actually, they are yet to settle down on the realisation that there is little that can be done in order to improve the situation.

All boredom of Light dissolves once he realises that the Death Note actually works. We watch the rays of the rising sun dramatically light up(no pun intended) his person as he declares in front of Shinigami Ryuk that he will be the God of the New World.

Teenagers, fuelled by hot blood, are bent upon changing the ways of the world, regarding the failures of others to do the same thing as inefficient or not well thought out. Thus, they, like Light, take up the responsibility to be the harbinger of justice and strive towards their goal. Herein lies the key for impact: when one begins to empathize with this fictional self-proclaimed God, the one to be known as “Kira”.

We see megalomania in Light himself once he successfully wipes out Naomi from his path. This proved to be the turning point when the previously confident Light was on the verge of getting exposed. All his manipulations had failed as Naomi, very cleverly, kept her real name a secret. Regardless of his desperation, Light’s cunning helps him once again as he cold bloodedly performs another act of lie. Naomi falls for it and he dramatically declares himself to be Kira.

Light basks in control and power as Naomi walks away towards her own death. He relishes in his success and realises that he has the potential to do anything that he wants. Because he is the one with the true potential to pass righteous judgement.

This scene itself, where all viewers sit with bated breath, has the ability to exhibit that you can achieve whatever you want, as long as you have the brains for it. The adolescent mind, overcome with the sheer power of intelligence that Light displays against someone standing in his path, might see it as an (I dare to use the term) inspiration.

Even when L was up close and there was no way for Light to escape, the latter was able to devise a plan which involved his own amnesia. Seemingly fool-proof, reliant and absolutely successful. Victory assured. And L’s death too.

As a teen who takes up responsibilities, one soon realises that the system of justice is not white. Corruption is everywhere. And so are the whims of those in authority. It doesn’t take a teen much time to realise (especially if things don’t go according to their plan) that depending on others would not really pay well. Their ideals, self-image and thought process are all in conflict and contrast with the society.

The system is not reliable.

Crime pays very often.

Safety is not ensured.

Danger is lurking everywhere.

At a time of fiery rebellion against all kinds of fear and oppression, societal or political, Light Yagami’s methods and ideas seem valid enough.

The story,however, progresses to show that power, in fact, breeds corruption of the self as well. To Light, the end becomes so important that he disregards the vice he employs in his means. He manipulates Misa who loved him. He considers killing his sister if her rescue fails. While his father is on the death bed, all he cares about is Mello's name in the notebook.

But “world's greatest detective” L is quite vocal in pointing out what exactly caused him to suspect Light Yagami in the first place. This exposes Light’s mistakes which includes creating an image of the too-perfect and very-common civilian as well as using people as mere tools.

“Killing is not so easy as the innocent believe.” Said Albus Dumbledore (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince).

The active teen who is new and eager in the business of bringing about “positive” change thinks that Light Yagami’s individual mistakes are enough to learn from. Sure. They would be careful to not commit the same if they are to hide certain things. The active teen is yet to go through disillusionment and realise that in each individual’s life, various factors affect various events differently. What led to the exposure and end of Kira may not play a part in another’s failure.

As was Light blinded by power, so is the teenager to prove and establish themselves.

And this has the potential to prove as all the more reason for the rebellious and sensitive teen to believe that they are the one who can surpass all their predecessors of justice, learn from their mistakes, act accordingly and finally achieve the ideal end. All that one needs is careful, very careful planning.

[charlotteroseessex-blog]

Web of Lies or Web of Ties?

Let me just start by asking you a question.

How many people do you actually know that you follow on Instagram?

Imagine scrolling through your ‘following’ list right now. How many of the accounts would you be able to confidently say you know personally? Not just know of through a friend of friend of their brothers girlfriend, but actually, seriously, can call a legitimate worthy friend?

These days, people use social media to follow and connect with friends, family and also influencers and celebrities who are considered relevant to their lives and goal. ‘Following’ is a crucial process in every users experience and can become misused tool when the element of connectivity is abused, especially if you begin to share private photos with people you don’t really know. The most followed accounts on Instagram belong to Cristiano Ronaldo (152.62 million) and Selena Gomez (144.75 million). Regular people who may not have even met either celebrity will follow them in order to keep updated with upcoming music releases or football team transfers because the information is perceived important to their lives. In adjunct to this information, it is worth admitting that we, as the general public, seek factual or even pointless knowledge about regular people that is unlikely to be beneficial for us to learn. It’s a strange concept, but we now live most of our lives online whereby everything is accessible and this is making us become reliant on instant gratification when seeking information regarding other people’s business (basically, we are just nosy).

Take the incident, for example, which broke the internet in 2018 when Kylie Jenner's secret pregnancy was finally revealed, after a year of speculation, with the birth of her daughter, Stormy. Now I’m not sure about you, but I was shamefully interested in the news way more than I should have been for someone other wise unbothered by other celebrity pregnancies. Online communities stalked the Jenner in what should have been a private journey through the beginnings of motherhood, which exploded with posts and images about the new arrival as soon as the hint of information was published. Now, unfortunately I don’t actually know any of the Kardashians nor do their life choices affect me in any way, shape or form... so why do I even care? Well truthfully, it’s because it’s shoved in all of our faces by every social media platform we are on and there’s really no escaping it, so naturally you kinda become interested. I think every man and their nan got a little hype from the announcement of Stormy’s birth.  

Social networking sites, like Facebook, are becoming more accessible to people of all ages due to their attractable features targeting basically every age category. There’s news coverage for the oldies and games for the young'uns (one word, Farmville). Users now as young as 13, which is the minimum age requirement, can create an active profile which encourages them to take their first few steps into the addictive world of social networking. Now, I know I speak for a lot of millennials when I say that this never happens. I joined Facebook when I was 10 years old. I’m no mathematician but even I can assure you that rules were broken when I ticked the ‘Terms and Conditions’ section when confirming my false age of about 33 before accessing my Facebook profile. Everyone did it because no one wanted to be that one weirdo going into secondary school without a Facebook account. 

So why is being online so desirable? I mean why else do kids break the age bracket by lying about their truthful year of birth? Well, the initial idea of being online is exciting. I mean there is literally no other platform that allows you to choose a profile picture, share funny posts and engage in group chats with friends after school. But this is merely the makeup of Facebook. Think of the features on Facebook as the high coverage foundation covering up the scars and cracks hidden on a site able to save information and build your digital footprint as well as selling this same data to external companies. I mean??? To consider kids as young as 13 becoming active online is slightly alarming.

Little 10-year-old me was definitely unaware of all the potential dangers awaiting me as soon as I activated my online profile. Younger people are becoming more and more active on social networking sites which makes the issue of ‘stranger danger’ even more prominent. Especially when I was new to social networking, the element of cyber attacks or bullying was only just being uncovered, so in a sense, the awareness we have for the internet now is more educated despite the dangers still being there. But who’s to say the users are any more careful than they were before? There are cases of people being scammed or ‘catfished’ over Facebook or something, but there’s never a bone in your body that thinks that will ever be applicable to you. The dangers of being online are endless, but now it has reached a point where some bad experiences have become entertaining for others intrigued and excited by online horror stories.

4 words.

Catfish the TV show.

The fact that this show has achieved 7 successful seasons in the 7 years it’s been running, outlines the overall crisis that false identities and accounts have and still are destroying real lives. The cases that are investigated by Nev Schulman and Max Joseph are outrageous and most of the time so far fetched you wonder how these people couldn’t recognise the Catfish themselves. However, the manipulation and deception highlighted on the show presents social networking as a vulnerable world for those unaware of the intentions of those wanting to serve you harm. I mean, who’s to say the online friend you made on Facebook is actually who she claims to be. Yes, her picture might look legit and her friends may also seem believable, but nowadays, you can never ben too careful. She could be using her friends image in order to be perceived by others as someone prettier or skinnier or she may even be a he. Imagine a 50 year old man sat in his scabby 1 bedroom flat, who used the image found on google to befriend other young girls, whilst adding a nearby college as her ‘place of education’ in order to easily befriend unsuspecting students from the college who assume acquaintances purely based on their same place of education. It’s probably easier than it sounds.

But still, how many people do you actually know online?

Being accepted as a friend or being followed on social media can create a feeling of acceptance and gratification, but who are we really letting in? Are the pressures of society in being a certain weight or height, making an individual's hatred and discontent towards themselves a toxic driving force towards the increasing rate of falsified representations? The idolisation of more successful people, naturally evokes some sort of admiration and can even lead to a self comparison with someone so vastly different from yourself, we end up wishing ourselves to be something else - longer legs, bigger biceps, rounder lips, you name it, we’ve all thought it. Is the growth in catfishing others with personas deemed more attractive than our own, a progression towards a less unique generation? It’s no secret that the younger generation are all starting to look the same. After all, we are all influenced by the same few models and fashion bloggers who sport a similar appearance, like the small sunglasses perched at the end of their perfect button noses serving no purpose whatsoever other than an extension of the nose.

Not only is Catfishing a betrayal of social networking, but it is also a solid representation in how online communities can violate the privacy of others if the information provided to and by others is false. To address the mishaps of online communities and understanding the weak ties with some followers, it is worth delving into the realms of Instagram - the Queen of all user generated contents. Here, users are able to depict whatever persona they desire, true or false. Most accounts on Instagram post aesthetically pleasing images which are followed by those interested in the fashion it features or the interior design included in the backdrop. The communities created here share common interests despite being unofficial acquaintances with one another. In being so inspired by certain feeds, we often find ourselves trying to replicate influential or successful users so to achieve a similar sort of popularity. But how realistic is this new representation of ourselves? Potentially, this could also be classed as a form of catfishing, as even though you are the same 20 year old female displayed in your photos, the clothes and hair and makeup IS NOT YOU. The interests and persona you have created online is simply a replica of someone else. Is this just another symbolic reference of being a catfish? And are we now catfishing ourselves in becoming something or someone we no longer recognise online?

Younger users are the most likely to befriend strangers due to their naivety of experience in the application. Luckily, Facebook is a bound system which SHOULD make accessing profiles and private information less easy to access (depending on the privacy controls) until a friend request is accepted. The factorship of age and difference in online awareness is important when considering the reasons why users embark on adding others online. I remember my own first hype of Facebook as, when I was 10 and new to the world of online networking, my initial desire was to add as many people as I could in order to gage the most amount of friends. Why? Because I did what every other kid in the world was doing and didn’t want to be the outsider with less than 1,000 friends. In doing so, I dismissed the dangers of accepting a request from someone I didn’t know and instead embraced the extra friend regardless of ‘stranger danger’. In addressing this naivety at such a young age, it has bought annoyance upon my feed in recent years when I am still inundated with people I don't even know. My Facebook timeline was, until recently, filled with strangers status updates I didn’t care about. Now, 10 years later and having unfollowed and defriended those irrelevant strangers and to return my profile to a safe and bounded system, I am more cautious in my privacy settings as well as the information I choose to share. In being older and, I like to think, more wiser towards the dangers of Facebook and those using it as a platform to abuse, my profile is purely used for communication for those I maintain strong ties with. My point is that social networking, despite being intended for bound systemic usage, has the potential to allow strangers into a personal world of expression. 

The element of ‘stranger danger’ is prevalent on all day to day social networking sites and has recently developed into an entertainment theme. Not only is false identity the main purpose behind the TV show Catfish, as well as exposing and raising awareness for recognising false identities, but it’s also become a popular genre in the thriller category on Netflix. I would be lying if I denied the entertainment value of these movies and documentaries, as sad as that may be. We live in a world now where traumatic, horrific and impossible events prevail to be the most popular watches amongst the general public. Watching dramas and films created at the expense of others life-changing online experiences merely shock audiences nowadays due to the normality of cases whereby people are tricked into situations others would say ‘well you should have seen it coming’. The shrugging of shoulders when cases of catfishing or identity thefts are reported are becoming more and more acceptable in their regular occurrences and barely now even make the headlines.

Netflix capitalises on cases such as stalking, identity theft and catfishing in order to present, for the film hungry public, an endless binge watching of tragic cases of unsuspecting victims. One of the most recent movies to have been released on Netflix, is psychological thriller ‘Cam’ which follows a young webcam girl down a pathway of self destruction when her identity is stolen and then replicated by an anonymous user who benefits from her achieved success in her career. This film represents the repercussions of living your life online and over sharing information to a network of followers unknown to you. ‘Cam’ leads you on a journey which sees the obsession with not only being liked online, but also the growing fixation in achieving the largest following in order to reach self-love and acception.

The entertainment world has hugely profited from the mishaps of social media and the victims of others abuse of it. I often wonder the main attraction for creating false profiles online, or even stealing others, as my personal use for social networking is to engage with friends, the real life friends I actually know. The intention for users who create false identities in order to befriend and scam random innocent people, which is usually financially motivated, is honestly one of the most tragic pathways a human being can embark on. Just get a life? It’s not only putting regular people’s privacy in danger, but it also makes being online a concept of which some people do all they can to remain as far away from as possible or take regular breaks from social media altogether. And truthfully, the way in which social networking is spiralling, I don’t blame them.

[postedbygaslight]

You’ll Be the One to Turn - Part 16: The Huntress

Sorry, folks. No Reylo in this chapter. But, come on. The kids deserve a little alone time after what just happened.

Here we have our first examination of the bounty hunter I created in Chapter 10. She’ll be pretty important to some events going forward. This chapter is more expository, but they can’t all be what Chapter 15 was.

Some of you may recognize the designation of Nil’s droid, and I’m definitely calling back to HK-47 from Knights of the Old Republic II. While this is NOT the same droid, and Nil has obviously programmed out a lot of the snark, you can follow the link below to get an idea of how the droid sounds when it talks.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vg1gTas7OAA

She is called Vyada Nil.

It is the name that was gifted her when she was called to her birthright. It is the name she adopted when that birthright was taken from her. It is a mask and armor. It is all that she is.

Nil checked the coordinates she’d plugged into the hyperdrive one more time, locked-in the auto-pilot, and jumped to light speed. She walked to the back of the cockpit and punched the access code. The door slid aside and revealed the cargo hold, with a large weapons locker and stasis pods modified into charging stations to house rows of battle droids, all slumped in standby mode.

Turning, she opened the weapons locker and examined the contents. The arsenal she’d arranged had been curated for a specific purpose: to hunt, entrap, and kill users of the Force. But now she faced the most challenging targets she’d encountered, and each weapon served a unique utility that would surely be employed in the coming days.

Blades. Sith liked those. For show. For the intimacy of a slow kill. To exert the most control over when and how death would come. Their opinions changed when the control they craved was turned against them. Everything bleeds.

Explosives. Useful for strike radius, but easily detectable by Force sensitives. Their utility was in confusion. When the battlefield descended into the chaos of black smoke and charred stone, and the air was choked with embers and ash, even a powerful Force user could become disoriented.

Toxins. Darts and gases. Darts could be employed with relative ease, and, though most Force users would be able to withstand the effects of poisons, the effort required to do so would distract them from the onslaught visited upon them in the kill zone. Gases were less effective. They were more useful for weeding out a Sith’s servants. Or a Jedi’s allies.

Nil had never actually encountered a being calling itself a Jedi that lived up to the billing. They were all of them zealots and pretenders. Users of the Force, but wild and untrained. Easy to confuse. They died like any other target.

Sith were different. They were nimble, adept, and cruel. They had an understanding of their powers and traditions. And they were harder to kill because they were defined by self-interest. But Nil loved nothing more than to watch the disbelieving shock on a Sith’s face as it became inevitable that death had come for them. In the expanse of the Empire, deep in what these people called the Unknown Regions, there was never a lack of warlords or vagabonds, monks or fugitives, who consecrated themselves with the title of Darth and set about earning the right to be feared. It bred a demand for assassins, and marked the grounds upon which these dark pretenders stalked as subject to the hunt.

The Jedi, on the other hand, had been cut off at the root sixty years prior, and the only sprouts that had emerged in their place were pale exercises in mimicry. They gathered in communes and caves, constructed temples from clay and wet timber, and thrilled at making rocks float. None of them were true Jedi, and Nil doubted there would ever be again.

She went to close the locker, and considered the last weapon in her arsenal:

Lightsabers.

They were unwieldy and unnecessarily dangerous weapons. An untrained novice was more likely to hack their own limbs off than strike a blow while using one. For one, they were much heavier than would be imagined, and the insistent thrum of the kyber field could make those not familiar with the flow of the Force nauseous from prolonged exposure.

But they inspired fear and wonder in the enemy. They overpowered any other weapon. They were elegant and efficient. And they killed anything they touched.

The huntress closed the weapons locker, picked up a datapad, and skimmed the information she’d received from the First Order. She knew what the information said. She knew what she needed to do. Her droids, however, were another tale. She had always known how to kill. She had been instructed well in the craft of it. And Nil found it a bitter irony that she now spent much of her time teaching machines to end life as efficiently as she.

She set down the datapad and approached a red droid with armor buffed to a matte finish. It didn’t gleam or shine. Nil preferred stealth over style when it came to her servants. It was time to determine if she could count on them in the battles to come.

“HK-9217, activate.”

The droid’s dim orange eyes blinked to life, and it stood at its stasis station, straightened its back, and looked at the huntress.

“Designation HK-9217, active,” the droid’s voice buzzed and crackled slightly, and sounded like the voice of a man who was profoundly amused to be trapped in a robot body. “Mission commander: Vyada Nil. Query: What is my mission status?”

“Standby,” Nil said, her voice carrying less inflection than the machine that now regarded her. “State mission readiness.”

“Weapons systems: thermal detonators, four active; single-shot missile ordnance, two active, two reserve; flamethrower tanks: left arm: fuel levels, 100 percent; right arm: 87 percent; shock batons: two, sheathed and fully charged. Defensive systems: energy shielding, chest deflector active; rear deflector active; anti-kyber pulse, operational but unloaded; warning: pulse discs are single use, and this unit has no replacement—“

“Disregard. State this unit’s combat readiness.”

“Diagnostic: all joints and hinges at full operational capacity; all servos at full range of movement; thrust capacity: approximately 120 seconds at full discharge.”

“Very good. Has this unit processed the additional intelligence received from the First Order?”

“Affirmative.”

“Report.”

“Target One is a human female, aged 20 standard cycles. Height: five feet, seven inch—“

“Stop. Omit biographical data.”

“Affirmative.”

“Continue with classification.”

“Classification: Target One is a Type IV Force sensitive with limited training.”

“Training summary.”

“Target One has been trained in some techniques used by the Jedi Order of the Galactic Republic. Observation: Many of these skills appear to be intrinsic, rather than taught.”

It was an extraordinary circumstance, Nil thought. This girl, wherever she’d come from, had a massive amount of potential, and her power in the Force was only growing. No wonder Snoke had sought her out. He always did have a knack for spotting his next student. And his next victim.

“Weaponry.”

“Target One has possession of a Corellian model-YT freighter with customized weapons systems. She utilizes a number of melee weapons in combat, including a durasteel quarterstaff, monomolecular blades and axes, and, it is reported, a lightsaber.”

“Tell me about the saber.”

“Reports describe a late-era Republic style lightsaber with a blue kyber crystal, Type I-B attunement. Origin of attunement: Skywalker, Anakin; Jedi Knight. Deceased, 4 A.B.Y.”

Enough about the girl. Nil wanted to hear about him.

“Next Target.”

“Classification: Target Two is a Type IV Force sensitive with extensive training.”

“Training summary.”

“First Order, approximately seven years. Instructor: Supreme Leader Snoke. Deceased 34 A.B.Y. Target Two has been trained in the use of the Force in the fashion of ancient Sith traditions.” The droid paused, as if to add dramatic effect. “Addendum: Target Two was also trained by an unknown Jedi. Deduction: It is highly likely that prior to instruction under Supreme Leader Snoke, Target Two was a student of Skywalker, Luke; Jedi Master. Deceased 34 A.B.Y.”

“Expound.”

“Analysis: Target Two was enlisted into the ranks of the First Order at the age of 23 standard cycles. Records indicate he was already proficient in many Force related skills and abilities associated with the Jedi Order of the Galactic Republic. The refinement of these skills suggest extended formal training. At the time of Target Two’s recruitment, the only living Jedi Master was Luke Skywalker. Conclusion: Target Two was likely trained by Skywalker in the Jedi arts.”

Nil was impressed. The droid had deduced Ren’s hybrid training history through implication. She was interested to see how much more the droids might be able to imply.

“Does this unit have any conjecture to report as to the previous subject?”

“Affirmative. Requesting permission to speculate.”

“Granted.”

“Speculation: It is possible Target One also received some limited instruction from Skywalker.”

“Expound.”

“Analysis: Target One, while untrained in a formal sense, exhibits signs of advanced training in observed use of Force abilities. As she displays many techniques of Jedi origin, the deduction reached in regard to Target Two also applies here. Observation: Target One is reported to possess the lightsaber of Anakin Skywalker. Further speculation: Target One May have received the weapon from Luke Skywalker or another family member.”

“List known Skywalkers.”

“Skywalker, Anakin; known alias: Darth Vader. Skywalker, Luke. Organa, Leia. Solo, Ben.”

“Whereabouts.”

“Skywalker, Anakin: Deceased, 4 A.B.Y.; Skywalker, Luke: Deceased, 34 A.B.Y.; Organa, Leia: whereabouts unknown, likely with the organization referred to as the Resistance; Solo, Ben: whereabouts unknown. Permission to speculate.”

“Go ahead.”

“Analysis: Ben Solo was known to be Force sensitive. He was trained by his uncle, Luke Skywalker, at a training temple that was destroyed circa 27 A.B.Y. He was assumed missing afterward. At the time of the attack on the temple, Solo was aged 23 standard cycles. Speculation: considering the naming convention associated with his title, it may be likely that Target Two is Ben Solo.”

“Confidence?”

“Request for clarification: shall this unit assume the First Order’s records concerning the Knights of Ren to be accurate?”

“Yes.”

“Further request for clarification: shall this unit assume Target Two was trained by Luke Skywalker?”

“Yes. Continue.”

“If such records are accurate, Target Two arrived at the behest of Supreme Leader Snoke in 27 A.B.Y. along with six others. Target Two was the only amongst them aged 23. The rest were younger. Conclusion: there is a 59 percent likelihood that these seven individuals were survivors of the temple attack; assuming that to be correct, confidence that Target Two is Ben Solo is 100 percent.”

The huntress considered this a moment. She had made the deduction herself within hours of receiving the preliminary intelligence. This droid had deduced it in an even shorter amount of time. It made her wonder why it wasn’t more widely known. It also made her wonder if the droid could fall prey to over-reliance on speculation.

“Target One. Could she be a Skywalker?”

“This unit requests permission to utilize sarcasm.”

“Denied.”

She almost thought she heard the droid breathe an exhausted sigh.

“Analysis: Target One was first observed by the First Order at a salvage settlement on Jakku, a planet best known for being the site of the wreckage of the remainder of the fleet of the Galactic Empire. Intelligence indicates she was a scavenger and had been known to the locals as an orphan once owned by a parts dealer named Unkar Plutt. Further intelligence indicates she had been scavenging there since she was a child.”

“Continue.”

“Historical observation: Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa were highly visible individuals within the Rebel Alliance and the New Republic. Birth records do not indicate Organa had any other offspring. And, considering the Jedi inclination toward celibacy, it seems unlikely Skywalker produced any of his own.”

“Permission to assume Skywalker was not celibate.”

“Analysis: Skywalker’s whereabouts and movements during the time period surrounding the assumed birth year of Target One were well documented. Chances he could have produced offspring without anyone learning of it are less than 15 percent. Addendum: it is also unlikely that any custodian of an offspring of Skywalker’s would elect to abandon that offspring, particularly to the kind of existence common to scavengers, and at such a young age.”

“Conclude.”

“Conclusion: likelihood of consanguinity is less than one percent.”

Nil was satisfied. The droids were no fools.

“Return to Target Two. Weaponry.”

“Target Two uses a highly modified lightsaber. Kyber crystal of unknown original color. Type V attunement. Origin of attunement: Unknown. Origin of crystal bleeding: Target Two.”

“Describe the saber modifications.”

“Diagnostic: Target Two’s lightsaber utilizes a Malachorian design to accommodate the unstable kyber field generated by the damaged crystal. The focusing chamber is braced by quillion emitters that vent excess energy into a cross guard.”

“Is the crystal’s field being manipulated?”

“Unknown. Speculation: Target Two may have manipulated the kyber field to make the field as stable as could be maintained while still using a portable housing.”

Good. The droid had a grasp of who they were dealing with. Now to see if she’d managed to teach them anything.

“Analyze targets for engagement and elimination.”

“Target One, whereabouts unknown. Observation: Hunter Nil could utilize a strategy of attacking the innocent. Jedi are known to be drawn out of hiding, and even be deceived into sacrificing themselves, for the good of others.”

“Noted. Combat prediction.”

“Prediction: Target One, if engaged, will likely be dangerous due to her status as a Type IV Force sensitive, and her unpredictability as a result of lacking extended formal training. Suggestion: Hunter Nil should utilize a strategic ambush to catch her off guard. Chance of success: 83 percent.”

Nil considered a moment, and nodded. An ambush was the best option. And springing the trap could be accomplished through use of the right bait, as the droid had suggested.

“Next target.”

“Target Two, location: the Finalizer, acting flagship of the First Order flotilla. Observation: This target will be highly difficult to engage without an organized insurrection or targeted betrayal.”

“Understood. Combat prediction.”

“Prediction: Target Two, if engaged, will be a highly dangerous opponent. Suggestion: Hunter Nil should attempt ranged or remote assassination. Chance of success: 62 percent.”

No. Kylo Ren would not die in his bed or at his dining table. He would not be picked off at range by a dart or a lucky blaster bolt. It was his destiny to die standing, and in full knowledge of the burden and crimes of his legacy.

“Rejected. Next suggestion.”

“Alternative suggestion: Hunter Nil should utilize a systematic assault with battle droids, and engage Target Two in direct combat. Chance of success: 51 percent.”

The odds mattered less to her than the principle. She was hired to kill the Jedi girl. And she would die. That was the contract. Ren was part of her payment. And he would die. That was the promise.

“Does this unit have any queries?”

“Affirmative. Query: This vessel appears to be approximately 62,000 light years from Imperial space. Is Hunter Nil planning on returning to the Empire?”

“No.”

“Additional query: have additional bounties been contracted?”

“No.”

“Observation: Hunter Nil is not planning on continuing to hunt following the current bounty.”

Nil’s eyes narrowed until they were black slits.

“This unit will deactivate.”

“Affirmative,” the droid buzzed, took two steps back into the stasis station, and slumped back into position.

Nil walked to the viewport at the back of her vessel, and stared out into the streaming pulse of blue and white that made up the distances between the stars. She knew what she had come here to do, and that purpose had been stolen from her. So, now, the thieves would be dealt with as all thieves must be: with the chain and the sword.

She raised her hand to the glass and touched it lightly. The flickering glow of hyperspace outlined her fingers as though a clutch of energies had collected around them. As though she could reach out and harness them and bend them to her control. She stared at the illusion of it, knowing it to be a trick of the light, and closed her fist, one finger at a time, around nothing.

[beckytailweaver]

Werewolf and Xolo puppy...part 1..?

It is a huge plot bunny. And I apologize for this.

Due to WerewolfAU Miguel & Héctor.  I really couldn't help it. I hope no one minds! It’s not even really fic...

So, were-xolo Miguel and werewolf Héctor.  Héctor could be awesome as a trickster were-coyote indeed, but there is an excellent subspecies if he is to remain in Canis lupus with the Xolo: a Mexican wolf.  (Mexican Wolf and Coyote: Know the Difference!) Thoughts?

Starting at the beginning, let's take it up to eleven: Some urban fantasy, some magical realism, and a little buffet of all kinds of different legends and canons.  The Rivera family were shoemakers. With a musician or two thrown in for charm. These days, though, they're werewolf hunters.

A long time ago, Mamá Imelda made shoes while her husband played music and her daughter danced. They were comfortable and happy. But one night, during the full moon, her husband was killed by a werewolf while coming home from a short musical tour with his friend Ernesto de la Cruz.

Ernesto barely escaped with his life, to bring Imelda the news. When she heard, Imelda set aside her shoes to learn how to kill werewolves, to avenge her husband and to eliminate any monsters who might be a threat to her daughter and her village. She taught this knowledge to all in her family after her, and while Riveras still make excellent shoes as their day job, by night they hunt their sworn enemy. (Cue origin story dramatic soundtrack crescendo.)

Music isn't as explicitly banned as it is in canon, but it's still actively discouraged. Riveras don't have time for this frivolous noise that’ll just attract monsters, and wandering around for music is what got Imelda's husband killed! None of her children will be lost to something so stupid.

(The irony here is that this time, Héctor is on the ofrenda, even if it’s grudgingly. But it would be much easier for him to come home if he was dead.)

Tio Ernesto is known and respected as a friend of the family, but he’s a famous musician and he doesn't visit very often at all (once a decade or so, very perfunctory). He was too busy traveling all over Mexico playing songs (in his best friend's memory, he claimed, but somehow that never came up in albums or interviews), and Riveras don't do music.  He's retired now but, privately afraid of being forgotten by the younger generations of music fans, he never misses a chance to promote his old albums or do an interview for a big show. He's in remarkably good shape for an octogenarian.

Basics. In this universe, monsters aren't complete fantasy, but by the time the modern era rolls around they've been controlled enough by military, police, and hunters that few civilians see them. Most people see them kind of like human criminals, or nuisance animals.  They're "out there," and if you wander around dark alleys and forests at night you might disappear, but it's not a zombie apocalypse of constant horror. Once in a while there's a news story, or a species of monster is on display at a zoo briefly, or you hear of a friend's wife's cousin who got eaten one night.

(Many monsters are actually just people minding their own business who happen to look a little different or have specific dietary requirements, but they keep to themselves so all most people ever hear is the bad tales and the news reports of another death.)

This Rivera family tree is arranged a little differently and the ages might be a little more compressed. Coco and Elena are Imelda's daughters; Elena was born after Imelda's husband was killed so she never met him. She is the fiercest in her dislike for werewolves (and lazy, careless musicians).

Coco and Julio are parents to Victoria and Enrique (I don't know how they got all the tall kids okay); Elena and Franco are parents to Berto and Gloria. Enrique and Berto have all their kids as in canon.

Oscar and Felipe are still Imelda's younger twin brothers, and though they're slowing down in their old age they're generally in charge of inventing and improving nifty new gadgets like repeater crossbows and silver grenades; they are teaching this craft to Abel.

Victoria and Gloria are both the single aunts, best friends growing up, and really like to collaborate on ammo projects that make monsters go boom; Rosa is learning from them.

Tia Rosita, Julio's sister, is very good at crafting light armor; Julio is best with heavy.  Berto works with specialty shotguns and Enrique is an expert rifle marksman. (Or, you know, skills can vary as needs might. Suggestions?)

Mamá Imelda has been sidelined by old age so she can no longer participate in active hunts, but nothing stops her from picking up a weapon if she feels her home is threatened. She is still the head of the family when it comes to command decisions.

Benny and Manny are just plain too little for hunting, and are kept safely under close watch in the Rivera family home. The grandmothers who don't hunt are usually caring for them, which often means it's Imelda. (She cannot be fooled by twin shenanigans; she had to look after her brothers once too.)

Elena is leading the charge any chance she gets, despite her age, which worries her husband and family (but she loves her family as fiercely as she fights, which is why she refuses to fail). Coco is more than happy to step down once she's "retired," and spends a lot of time making shoes rather than weapons, and looking after the little ones. She remembers her Papá fondly.

Miguel...precious little musical dreamer Miguel...he spends a lot of time with his Abuelita Coco, and she adores him. With his sweet grin and heart for music, it's almost like her Papá has come back to her. She hums to him in secret, and encourages him to explore interests other than shoes and werewolf hunting. Miguel loves music even if it's their little secret, and there's something in his eyes just like she remembers, something that wants to chase the wind and sing out to the world, and Coco knows Miguel is special. Just like Papá.

Werewolves. This variety is a little more magical than is found in a lot of modern fiction. They're not gigantic and terrifying; the body doesn't actually change size that much, just some shape and locomotion. They age much more slowly than humans and are pretty much immortal, barring silver weapons, decapitation, or rather thorough dismemberment. They can still get sick or injured, but are very unlikely to die from average things (injuries and discomforts still hurt though; they feel cold, they get bruises, they bleed, they can have allergies or need glasses). It might take one of them a long time to die of old age, but that's the only other thing that can kill them. (It's like the curse was made to turn humans into something almost fey but not quite, but no one knows for sure how it originated.)

And they're not all wolves. It's more the were than the wolf! And not everyone gets turned by a bite. Some of the weres are "venomous" and can pass on the "disease/curse," most of these are ones that were turned by a bite themselves and so the "curse” is thicker in them. Many of these are pretty insane or can't remember what they do during the full moon; they're the ones who attack indiscriminately and give the rest a bad name. The human mind breaks because of the fear and stress and venom, and aggressive self-defense instinct takes over; these are the easiest to find and hunt because they just rampage against any "threat" that moves, like a rabid animal.

There are others, sometimes known as latent werewolves (again, not all are wolves). If a bitten were manages to keep it together long enough to bear or sire a child, that offspring has a strong chance of being a werewolf themselves. But because they're born to it, they don't go insane (or not as insane, especially if they have a supportive family or other experienced weres to learn from). Some of these will turn out okay, and can go on to have children of their own; further generations have much less chance of turning out actual werewolves, which is where the latent part comes in.

Enough generations down, and the were-genes aren't activated. They're just kind of sitting there, disconnected, with no inputs. Some people may never even realize they have these genes, and dormant vs latent will also skip some generations, to the point where some family members are "susceptible" and others aren't.

"Susceptible" means they have to be exposed to a compatible animal in a few certain ways during a full moon, which means it doesn't happen terribly often but still does now and then. At this point the latent disconnected were genes go aha! a template! and boom, brand new werewolf. (Or whatever it is. Most are canines and felines, going by likelihood of exposure. Almost all are mammals, because blending with non-mammals can be...troublesome, and may not work at all.) On the upside, most latents (especially those whose ancestry is distant) tend not to be able to pass on the "curse" through bites, so they're not contagious.

Full moons.  While an actual, really true full moon lasts only a moment or two, the moon is round enough to be perceived as full for more than just one night! It may also be in the sky during the day. So the classic old "sun goes down, moon comes up, werewolf howls!" trope isn't...actually all that accurate. A fully round moon can actually last around four days.

That's right.  Day and night, light and dark.  Four days of running around with claws, teeth, and fur, during which a werewolf might be causing havoc, chased by hunters, or killed.  Four days of carnage if they're insane and running on terror and adrenaline.  Four days to hide, shivering and hungry, if they're sane and unprepared just trying to stay out of trouble.  Four days to huddle in a basement with bottled water and cans of Spam if they've been doing this alone a long time.  Four days to run in the wilderness with pack and family and have a fun camp out, if they're the luckiest of all.

Neither Miguel nor his family know that he's carrying latent were genes. Not a clue. He's just an ordinary little boy who fidgets through shoemaking lessons and looks squeamish when being taught about monster hunting, who runs off to go hang out with Abuelita Coco whenever he can, who sneaks into the attic to play his guitar and watch old De la Cruz videos, who skips and sings his way around their quiet little hometown playing with Dante the stray Xolo—as long as he's always back before dark.

(Miguel adores Tio Ernesto and asks his family every Christmas if there's a card, even if he's only met him in person once when he was so small he almost doesn't remember it.)

Then came a day when Miguel discovered that Mamá Imelda's portrait with Abuelita Coco contained a man with a white guitar—Tio Ernesto's guitar—and he wanted to know if Tio Ernesto was actually his great-grandfather because then he has a real legacy of music that could actually lead to success and not death.  Mamá Imelda squashed that dream; no matter who his great-grandpa is, Riveras have a higher calling, and she will never allow one of her children to be led away from home and into distractions and disaster by music.

Miguel runs. Dante follows. It's still daylight, but there's a full moon just chilling, lazy and faded, in the blue sky above.  Somewhere near the cemetery, Miguel's tears make him stumble. He bruises his knees and scrapes his hands, and ever faithful Dante tries to lick the wounds clean.

A few feverishly dizzy minutes later, Miguel is an oddly-shaped, oversized Xolo puppy wearing a red hoodie.

tbc...?

Hopefully this is interesting? Thoughts and suggestions welcome! Miguel’s journey in the wilderness is still taking shape...

Opinions on the wolf/coyote thing?

[theradicalscrivener]

Gooed Friends: Home for the Holidays (Part 1)

I was hoping to have this ready to go for Thanksgiving but I was too busy to really wrap it up, and I wanted to add a lot more to it. Fortunately the events are kinda holiday neutral. It could be any family holiday that requires a jet trip, and the ending point makes for a nice cliff-hanger.

It’s Gak’s first time going out of town, and as you can imagine he’s even more excited than normal to take in the sights and sounds. 

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || [Series Index] || Next Chapter

               Jackson didn’t care much for flying. He wasn’t deathly afraid of planes or anything of that nature. He had just flown so much in his life that it had lost its novelty. His parents lived on opposite ends of the state so he spent much of his time flying from one end to the next and back again. By this point in his life Jackson was just bored of air travel in general. You wouldn’t know any of this by looking at him though. As his flight zoomed over the countryside, Jackson’s face was pressed against the window. His eyes darted this way and that to soak up every inch of the landscape. His whole body practically trembled with excitement at what he saw, but it was not really Jackson that was doing these things.

               Jackson’s best friend was in control of the body that they often shared. Gak had never been on an airplane before. He had never even left town let alone hopped a flight across the state. Everywhere he looked he saw new scenery. Everything he experienced was brand new to him. Everything was fascinating. Everything was wondrous.

               Jackson was more than happy to let Gak have free reign of the body during the flight. Had he been left to his own devices, Jackson would have had his head buried in a book or his eyes glued to the dimly lit screen of his DS so he really wasn’t losing much by letting Gak have his fun, and Gak was just too damn cute to be upset with even had Jackson been even slightly inconvenienced. Jackson loved watching Gak bounce around like a kid in a candy shop, and thanks to the slight overlap in their shared psyche, Jackson could actually feel a bit of Gak’s excitement seeping into his own consciousness. Jackson was able to relive at least a small part of his childhood enthusiasm through his buddy’s excitement. Open fields and lofty plains he had seen more times than he could count were now new and wonderful in his eyes. Old barns and run down gas stations that he had long committed to memory were now brand new to him. Everything was simultaneously new and old, foreign and familiar as his and Gak’s memories and emotions meshed into one.

               As much as Jackson enjoyed getting second hand enjoyment of their trip, Jackson knew he would have to take control once the flight coasted to a stop. Gak’s excitability wasn’t the issue. Had Jackson had his way he would have gladly let his buddy run amok in the airport in their shared body and soak in all the sights and sounds of a major, bustling concourse, but they had a lot of ground to cover and plenty to do before the rendezvoused with their party. It was just better for both of them to leave the terminal crawling to a trained professional.

               Once they were off of the flight, Jackson made a beeline for the restrooms and ducked into one of the more spacious stalls. He didn’t need to pee or anything of that nature, but he did need a lot of privacy for what he was about to do. Jackson stripped completely nude in the comfort and privacy of the restroom stall and took a moment to psyche himself up for what was to come next.

               Jackson took a brief moment to admire his reflection in the metallic siding of the airport restroom stall. The paneling of the small stall didn’t have nearly the luster of an actual mirror so his reflection was murky at best, but even in the vague shapes he could see in his reflection he could make out how absolutely jacked he was. His broad, burly form would have filled out the average restroom stall, but that wasn’t the real reason he had ducked into one of the plus-sized stalls typically reserved for handicapped folks. Jackson had a new trick up his sleeve that he couldn’t wait to try out.

               “Ok… just like we practiced…” Jackson coaxed softly. His words were directed both at himself and his co-pilot. They had tried this maneuver before… at least in theory, but they had never done it on this scale. To put it lightly, Jackson was nervous about what might go wrong, and his anxiety was beginning to bleed over into Gak’s mind as well.  Fortunately Gak was doing a better job of staying upbeat and optimistic than Jackson was. Gak was still so giddy to be out in the wide world that it would take a lot more than a botched morph to rain on his parade.

               Jackson could hear Gak’s reply as if it was echoing in his mind. “Roger!” Gak replied happily.

               Jackson had had his body altered and modified countless times in the past, but it was always a surreal experience. It didn’t hurt. In fact depending on what part of his body he was changing it could feel pretty good, but it was a sensation he could never quite get used to. Jackson could feel his muscles shifting and warping beneath his skin. He could feel his bones detach and readjust. He could feel his skin stretch and slacken. It was as if his very body, down to the very nerves and tendon, was being molded like clay. His very atoms were being poked and prodded and kneaded into new shapes and sizes.

               The changes were swift yet steady. A pair of arms sprouted out from underneath his usual set. Each of his legs steadily grew wider and wider until they reached a breaking point. His legs pulled apart like putty to form two new legs.

               Jackson could only imagine how he must look – a tall, muscular dude with four arms and four legs. No doubt a random passerby on the street would think he was a freak, but Jackson couldn’t imagine anything hotter. He longed for the time where he could walk around like this every day. He dreamed of the day where he could walk around campus with all four (or more) beefy, bulging arms openly on display for all to see. He longed to show everyone how hot he could be when he looked even more amazing than he normally did – and he looked pretty damn hot on a regular basis with only two burly arms. As much as he would have loved to stride out of the restroom stall right then and there and give all the travelers a good view of how huge and handsome he was with all his extra appendages, Jackson knew his current form was only temporary. He and Gak had already discussed the nature of the current transformation, and Jackson could already feel the next round of changes setting in.

               Jackson shoulders grew wider and wider. His head too grew wider as well. He had had something similar happen to the rest of his body, but his head felt far different. It wasn’t just the physical matter that was being pulled taut. It was as if his mind too had been turned into mush. He could feel his memories being pulled in two. His thoughts and personality began to split and drift further apart. It was dizzying and disorienting. It was as if his memories were steadily splitting in two just like his legs had, but that was only partially true. When his two heads finally pulled apart there was a strange popping sensation in his mind. It was as if he had finally managed to pop his ear and ease the pressure in his sinuses, but the pressure that had eased was centered in his braincase. Jackson shook his head to try and clear the residual fog from his mind, and in doing so he caught sight of another head directly beside his.

               “Woah… That’s a hell of a thing…” He thought. He waited expectantly for some sort of reply from his friend, but there was nothing – only silence. He was suddenly struck by a strange sense of loneliness. He was alone in his own head for the first time in what felt like forever.

               “That was a hell of a thing…” Jackson repeated – out loud this time.

               “That’s one way to look at it.” His other head replied.

               “I guess now is the fun part.” Jackson responded.

               “I’m not sure if fun is the word I’d use, but it’ll definitely be… interesting.” His other head replied.

               It was strange for Jackson to hear the voice coming from his other mouth. It sounded like him, but it wasn’t quite him. The inflection was softer. The delivery was sweeter. It was someone else speaking through his mouth. It was his vocal chords speaking with someone else’s voice.

               The left side of Jackson’s body began to move on its own. He watched in awe as the left half of his body began to wiggle and writhe and pull away from his right half, the half that he current controlled. Jackson had never seen anything like it before. Even his vast library of horror and sci-fi movies had not prepared him for what he saw. It was as if another body was hatching from his body. His body was like a cocoon, and from within said cocoon another, fully-formed body slowly wriggled its way out. Jackson was so fascinated by the other body that he didn’t even notice that his second right arm had steadily pulled inward the further away his left body got. The arm seemed to slide through his body like the central log in a Jenga tower being pushed out the other side. Soon he could see the upper arm of the new body pulling out the left side of his torso right as the hand vanished into the region below Jackson’s armpit.  

               Suddenly Jackson’s other body pulled free. The thin band of flesh that bound them together snapped like a rubber band and quickly reformed into their mutually exclusive sides. The only thing connecting him were their central arms; Jackson’s left arm was still stuck inside the other him’s torso, and his other self’s right arm was still sticking through his chest. As the two Jacksons steadily moved further and further apart, the arms that connected them steadily took form. It was as if each of them was pulling their arm out from inside the other much the way a magician would pull a prop sword out of a stunt box. By all logic and reason, the arms should be hitting flesh, but they were pulling out without so much as a scratch on either of them. Eventually their elbows slipped into view, followed by their forearms, and then wrists, and finally their hands pulled out from each other’s underarms as easily as if they had pulled their hands out of their pockets.

               Jackson took a quick stock of his body to make sure that everything was there. He was down to one set of legs and one pair of arms, but he was otherwise completely whole. More to the point he now had an exact duplicate of himself standing directly beside him.

               “Woah… That’s –“ Jackson began to murmur, but he was quickly cut off by his double.

               “- a hell of a thing, right?” The other Jackson chimed in.

               “That’s… one way to put it, yeah.” Jackson replied. He seemed equally dazed and amazed, but he quickly sobered up.

               “Enough of that. How are you? How do you feel? Is everything alright?” Jackson asked.

               His doppelganger didn’t respond – at least not verbally. His response was definitely oral though. Jackson’s double quickly clapped his hands against the sides of Jackson’s face and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. Jackson was surprised at first, but he quickly relaxed and allowed himself to enjoy it.

               Jackson would have been happy to stay there and enjoy the kiss for hours to come, but it was over just as quickly as it had begun. The other Jackson pulled away and began to gently poke his lips as if making sure they were real. He was blushing bright red, and his thick cock had begun to swell and harden.

               “Oh wow. That’s even better with real lips.” He gasped.

               “If you want to do it again, I’ve got plenty more where that came from.” Jackson replied seductively.

               “Oh yes. I would definitely like to do more, but first…” The other Jackson said. His voice began to trail off and his entire demeanor changed. The other Jackson seemed to enter and almost Zen-like state. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. As his chest steadily rose and fell it soon became clear that it wasn’t just his attitude that was changing.

               Jackson watched in awe as his duplicate steadily took on the appearance of someone else. Jackson’s short, brown hair slowly lengthened, and the color slowly shifted until the double had shaggy, teal colored locks. Jackson’s ruggedly handsome visage slowly smoothed over. Before long the other figure had slight features which could only rightly be described as cute. His double soon had a cute little button nose and full lips that were just begging to be kissed. Even his eyes seemed to be larger and rounder just adding to the overall adorableness.

               The double’s body slowly shifted as well. Jackson’s broad form began to shrink. His dense pecs began to deflate. The ridges of his defined abs began to slowly smooth over. Jackson’s thick, meaty, muscle butt grew wider and rounder until it had become a full, supple, bubbly booty. Jackson’s thick, veiny cock thinned ever so slightly and grew a few inches longer. The veins of his double’s fat cock steadily sunk into the flesh until his long, thick cock was nearly completely smooth. His cock also softened and drooped, but that seemed more a result of the meditative state his duplicate had entered and not part of the actual transformation. The foreskin which once clung tight around the head, leaving half the knob exposed began to lengthen until it hung loosely past the tip of his long, smooth, skinny dick.

               The other figure let out a sigh of relief. His eyes slowly fluttered open revealing the most brilliant aquamarine eyes that Jackson had ever seen. The other guy was so amazingly hot that Jackson’s words caught in his throat and his dick stood straight up at attention. Jackson could hardly believe that just a moment ago that that body had been an exact duplicate of himself!

               It had never really been him in the double’s body though. It wasn’t like he had suddenly become someone else. On the contrary, the second body had taken the form of the true occupant. Jackson was looking at his good buddy, Gak, in the flesh. Jackson had seen Gak many times before, but it was very rare to see Gak like this. Typically Gak was comprised almost entirely of a blueish green goo, and in the rare occasions he took over Jackson’s body, he almost never made any adjustments to the body. It was almost always Gak in Jackson’s body, but this was one of the times that Jackson’s could claim to have seen Gak in a body that was truly his own.  

               “Did it work? How do I look?” Gak asked excitedly.

               “You look amazing.” Jackson murmured in awe.

               “Really? I gotta see.” Gak said giddily. He quickly charged past, undid the latch on the door and bolted out in to the main part of the bathroom. Gak’s state of complete undress drew the attention of a few of the other occupants in the restroom. A few guys stared in awe at the cute, twinky dude with the fantastic cock; some guys pretended not to notice anything out of the ordinary at all; and a few more looked like they had seen a sight so shocking that their boring old, fuddy-duddy hearts could stop right then and there. Gak didn’t pay any attention to this though. He was too busy trying to check out his new body in the mirror. Unfortunately, the mirror just wasn’t doing it for him. Gak could only see himself from the waist up. That would simply not do.

               Gak didn’t waste any time. He had seen other full-bodied mirrors mere moments before. He turned and bolted from the restroom and out into the concourse. The terminal was lined with mirrored walls and they provided him with the perfect platform in which to check out his handiwork… unfortunately it also gave countless holiday travelers the opportunity to check out Gak’s body as well.

               “Oh hell…” Jackson grumbled. He quickly pulled on his shorts, grabbed his backpack, and bolted out after his pal. Fortunately Gak hadn’t gone far, but he had already started to cause a scene. Quite a few travelers had stopped to admire the lean, hung hotty, but quite a few more were looking downright incensed. Jackson knew he had to get Gak into some clothes before security got there.

               Jackson quickly skidded to a halt beside his completely nude best friend, but then he hesitated for a moment. Gak seemed so genuinely happy that Jackson didn’t want to interrupt. He knew that the sight of a completely naked dude in the middle of a crowded concourse was sure to attract some unwanted attention, but at the same time… seeing Gak grinning from ear to ear as he turned and posed in front of the mirror made Jackson smile too.  Jackson knew he had to step in, but surely he could give Gak a few more moments.

               Jackson hung back for a moment and admired him lean, lithe friend.  Jackson had always been a fan of muscles, but he had to admit, the slim, toned body his buddy was sporting suit him to a T. He couldn’t imagine Gak looking any bulkier than he did now, and even had he not been so stunningly beautiful, the childlike wonder with which Gak was admiring his body as he turned in front of the mirror would have been enough to get Jackson’s heart fluttering for very different reasons. Jackson was happy to just stand there and watch the sheer awe and joy in Gak’s eyes as he wiggled his fleshy fingers and flexed his slight muscles and bounced his bubbly booty before his own reflection, but the telltale sound of heavy footfalls broke Jackson’s concentration.

               Those footfalls were the sound of a man on a mission, and the sound of staticy walky-talky chatter just helped to drive home the fact that Gak’s nude posing would surely attract some other types of attention. Sure enough, when Jackson turned to see the source of all the noise he saw a heavy-set gentlemen in a blue, mall rent-a-cop uniform stomping his way towards Gak’s one man cabaret.

               “Here. Put these on.” Jackson hurriedly said to his friend and hastily shoved a change of clothes into Gak’s arms. Gak gave him a questioning look, but upon seeing the intensity of Jackson’s gaze, Gak grabbed the clothes and set to work getting dressed without saying so much as a word in protest.

               Jackson had thought that Gak would do the rational thing and duck back into the restroom to change, but Jackson was once again reminded that his pal was not well versed in your average, human social mores. Gak merely unballed the clothes and started to get dressed right then and there. His huge, soft dong bobbed, wobbled, and flopped enticingly for his viewing public as he awkwardly hopped into the pair of jeans he had been given, and Gak’s big, bubbly butt cheeks seemed to fight tooth and nail against the rising waistband of the denim pants. In the process of pulling the jeans up and over his round, shapely ass, Gak had given the entire audience a full moon and then some! Fortunately, once his jeans were on, it was just a simple matter of pulling the shirt on and buttoning it up which Gak had no difficulty with.

               The clothes would have been far too small on Jackson, but the shirt hung loosely on Gak’s slender frame. The jeans would have been extra loose on Gak’s slender frame as well had it not been for the extra junk in the trunk the green-haired guy was packing.

               It was a bit of a surreal experience for Jackson watching Gak try and wear his old clothes. Jackson had only bought that outfit a few months ago, but back then Jackson had been a total shrimp. He had always been lean and a little on the short side, but Gak’s transformative powers had helped Jackson achieve the body of his dreams. Jackson was now tall enough to play in the NBA and built like a linebacker. He was the most massive, muscular guy on campus, and the only thing stopping him from using Gak’s powers to get even more enormous was that he couldn’t come up with a good cover story for how he had more than doubled in mass in a few months. The school counselors were already breathing down his neck to get tested for steroids, and even his own mother sounded a little worried whenever she heard or saw anything about Jackson’s newfound form.

               “So what now?” Gak asked once he had finished getting dressed.

               “For starters I think we should get out of here. We have drawn a little too much attention to ourselves, and my mom is waiting for us at the baggage claim. It’s best not to make her wait too long.” Jackson replied. Now it was Jackson’s turn to be the indecent one of the duo. In his haste to run after his nudist buddy, Jackson had only had time to pull on a pair of boxers. Said shorts were doing little to hide the enormity of his endowments, which thanks to Gak’s powers was now nearly a solid foot long even while soft. The bulging VPL that strained against the front of his overstuffed shorts showcased a cock that was as thick as your average dude’s forearm and was topped off with a pair of nuts which were each as big as a ripe grapefruit.

               Jackson knew he needed to get some clothes on, but he also knew he needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. Ideally he would pull a pair of jeans over his boxers to hide his bulge as best as he could, but that required time, and he no doubt would have made a huge scene of trying to shove his sizeable sausage down the front of his slacks while trying to get dressed. He realized he was better off just accepting that he was giving the world a free shot of his bait and tackle and head for the exit as quick as possible.

               Jackson quickly pulled another shirt out of his backpack and pulled it on. The shirt was massive by most normal standards, but even the XXXL sized tshirt strained against Jackson’s supersized muscles. His massive meaty pecs bulged out in front of him and caused the shirt to stretch so tight across his meaty rack that the shirt was reduced to little more than a second skin. The fabric was stretched so sheer he might not have been wearing anything at all, but he wasn’t doing it for the modesty. He just needed to make a passable attempt at getting dressed to get Officer Blart off his tail. He could figure a more permanent solution after he was in the clear.

               It seemed like they were going to be in the clear in no time at all. The crowd quickly dispersed now that there was no cute, naked dude to ogle, and nobody wanted to be in the way when the Hulk that was Jackson started moving. Even though Jackson would never intentionally hurt a fly, it was hard not to look intimidating when he had a few hundred pounds of solid muscle in motion. Yet despite the lack of traffic, Jackson didn’t make it more than five steps before he was stopped again.  He could tell Gak wasn’t following him so he turned to glance back at his pal to see what the holdup was.

               “Shouldn’t we get some food? That transformation was a doozy. I’m famished, and I know you are too.” Gak asked weakly.

               “Don’t worry about that. I’ve got plenty of snacks in my bag that we can eat once we get into the car, and there’s tons of food at home.” Jackson replied. He gave nod towards the exit to indicate that Gak should follow and then set off down the concourse once more. This time Gak actually tagged along.

               Neither one of them said much as they made their way towards the baggage claim. Jackson was too busy thinking of how he was going to introduce his pal to his mom, and Gak seemed completely fascinated by his flannel shirt. He had button up collar pulled up over his nose making him almost look like the cutest, wild-west desperado the world had ever seen.

               Jackson glanced over at his shoulder over at his pal. “Huh? What’s up?” He asked.  

               “Oh. It’s nothing. It’s just this shirt smells like you.” Gak replied. He giggled softly and then placed his hands against his mouth. The shirt was so loose on him that his hands were still completely buried in the sleeves.

               “Yyyeah…? It’s my shirt so it should, right? Don’t all my clothes smell like me?” Jackson replied uncertainly.

               “I guess they do. I’m just not used to having a nose to smell it.” Gak replied.

               “You’re welcome to use mine whenever you want, dude.” Jackson responded.

               “I know… It’s just not something you think about, you know?” Gak replied.

               Jackson chuckled in reply, “Yeah. I guess I can see that, but man if you’re that excited about my shirt, just wait til you smell my mom’s cooking.” He said.

               Gak perked up upon hearing this. “Ohmigosh. I almost forgot I get to meet your family!” he sputtered.

               “What? Don’t tell me you’re nervous or something.” Jackson teased playfully.

               “Nervous? I’m excited! I wish you could see the way you feel when you talk with them.” Gak replied. He was so excited he was practically bouncing up and down.

               “Wait… What does that mean? Have you been reading my thoughts?” Jackson asked.

               “Oh, no. It’s not like that. I wouldn’t do that without asking first, but when you get really emotional it just sort of… bleeds through, yanno?” Gak replied. His cheeks took on a faint pinkish hue as he spoke which just made it already cute face look even more adorable.

               “Wait. So like, what kind of things do you feel?” Jackson asked, pressing the issue further.

               “It’s just little things, you know? Like when your brother calls, and you sound all huffy and disgusted over the phone, but I can feel how happy you are to be talking.” Gak explained. He was full on blushing bright red by this point.

               Jackson couldn’t help himself. His buddy was too cute. Without even thinking about it, he reached over and pulled Gak in for a tight side hug. Jackson gave Gak a quick peck on the cheek and said, “Hey, but uh… let’s keep that little bit between you and me. If my bro finds out I’ll never hear the end of it.”

               Gak was just about to reply, but he was interrupted by the sound of a woman shouting, “I KNEW they were more than friends!”

               There was an awkward silence as Jackson stared down the new arrival. Gak looked at the woman for a moment and then back to Jackson and then back to the woman. There was a strange tension in the air that Gak didn’t really understand. Even without probing Jackson’s thoughts, Gak could still feel a lot of his emotions bleeding through. It wasn’t so much a telepathic thing, rather the very cells which made up Gak’s body still retained their connection to Jackson. Gak’s heart began to pound in his chest. It was such a foreign feeling that Gak couldn’t help but place his hand against his chest to better feel the organ pounding away beneath his ribs.

               “Uh… hey mom…” Jackson murmured awkwardly.

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[tigy-the-gaymer]

Some Anti-Theist Religious Bits & Pieces: Round Thirteen

Of those Big Questions vital to philosophical ideas that encompass life, the universe and everything, the domains of religious philosophy and religions and the idea of divinities keep on captivating. Assessments multiply in books, articles, recordings, discussions in bars and bars, and in actuality anyplace and wherever at least two people are in nearness. There's the genius side; there's the counter side. There aren't an excess of fence-sitters. I'm still in the counter camp as the accompanying odds and ends outline.

Concerning

*You needn't bother with a divine being to have significance and reason in your life.

*There is one quality that the multi-a huge number of varying strict conviction frameworks/religious philosophies have displayed and that is the intensity of the human creative mind to strikingly proceed to envision fanciful ideas never envisioned. The world would be a less beautiful and fascinating spot without our different folklores.

*I think there ought to be required strict and Biblical instruction in schools since that ought to guarantee a constant flow of nonbelievers growing up and entering the network!

*Religions frequently do great to veil the shrewd they do, yet would now be able to do without risk of punishment.

*The Catholic Church: AIDS is terrible yet the utilization of condoms is more terrible since God doesn't favor of 'conception prevention' in any way, shape or form Engagement Rings Perth. It is obviously educated in Africa by Catholics that utilizing condoms makes "Infant Jesus cry". Abnormal.

*Then too we had the Catholic Church's Index of Prohibited Books. It wasn't only the Nazis that consumed books. Presently you must be extremely shaky and uncertain of your philosophy and how to protect it in the event that you need to take cover behind a brought down drape that outcomes by the controlling of disparate conclusions. It's simply one more sign of Christianity's eventual demise.

*There's no more proof for casual and complicated strict conviction (like being profound without being an individual from any proper strict faction/association/church) than officially sorted out religion. It's all only a type of "charm".

*When it comes to religion, "fall back on toleration when in doubt" True Believers are particularly in the minority. (By means of Greta Christina).

*Any religion is only a working speculation about how life, the Universe and everything, except particularly the world, works. All things considered, that religion is dependent upon investigation and counter and being tested and rectified as would some other working theory from some other effective region or of topic of worry to people, from the sciences through to political frameworks.

*We don't will in general go out to shop for the brand of religion we need among the entirety of the extraordinary and broadly contrasting brands of religion on offer and afterward picking the most reasonable the manner in which we accomplish for the multi brands of parcels of rolls on offer at the grocery store or for a particular brand or design name of dress at the women style shop and apparel division. Rather we continue eating/wearing a similar brand over and over and again in light of the fact that that was only the manner in which we were raised. In like manner, we will in general keep the religion that was forced on us when we were kids. This is to a limited extent because of custom (in the event that it was adequate for Mum and Dad its sufficient for me) just as family/social weight. Obviously in certain social orders the weight verges on real physical dangers and disciplines on the off chance that you stray from the acknowledged overlap.

*Thanks to Christianity and its all-adoring, all-simply, all-benevolent God, more than 50,000 blameless individuals were tormented and executed - they were classified "witches" however were not any more genuine witches than the individuals who turned the thumb-screws, fixed the rack, and light the blazes encompassing the stake. Incidentally, this training is as yet going on in numerous remote regions in immature nations. God (and His hirelings here on earth) should balance their heads in disgrace for Exodus 22: 18 "Thou will not endure a witch to live".

As to versus Science

*According to Leviticus 11: 6 and Deuteronomy 14: 7, rabbits (for example - hares) cheweth the cud. This obviously is zoological hogwash. Chalk up one more Biblical uh oh.

*The general pattern over all of written history is that normal clarifications have displaced, typically surpassed in informative force, powerful (for example - strict) clarifications. I'd wager that is a pattern that will fight the good fight.

As to and Belief

*Saying that you simply know something (without proof to back up your insight) is simply not a pathway to truth.

*If you state your confidence bests proof then you are absolutely impervious to both self-amendment and impervious to contradict.

*Religious conviction is confidence in the mysterious. There's not a single verification in sight in the strict pudding. Any evidence to be discovered comes after you've kicked-the-basin and by then it's short of what was needed to tell anybody.

*The thought of choosing what's actual dependent on what you need to be genuine is ludicrous in the extraordinary. The truth is the thing that the truth is and your convictions to the opposite are immaterial. So any conviction framework that urges individuals to disregard the truth is a terrible conviction framework and that covers Christianity directly down through and including New Age "Charm".

*The prime instructing of monotheistic strict confidence in an imperceptible enchantment man in the sky is a conspicuous model known to software engineers of GIGO - Garbage In; Garbage Out.

*Christian: You need to regard my convictions.

Nonbeliever: No! I may regard you similar to a legitimate and amiable individual yet that doesn't mean I need to regard what you put stock in.

*You reserve a privilege to your private strict convictions until such time as you go too far and your strict convictions enter the open field and begin to hurt others.

*It's misleading in the outrageous for you to basin the strict convictions of others when those convictions don't adjust to your convictions and afterward anticipate that your strict convictions should get a free pass.

As to and Miracles

*For the Catholic Church to announce some occasion as a real wonder (for example Fatima, October 1917), well that is much the same as a genuine devotee to Bigfoot or the Yeti pronouncing that a photo of a disintegrated 'primate' impression in the snow is outright verification of same. Genuine adherents will clearly embrace occasions that reflect proof for their actual conviction.

With respect to

*The thought that strict confidence consequently makes you a decent and good individual is ridiculous in the extraordinary. Jails in America, Canada, Western Europe, Australia, and so on are brimming with Christians. Penitentiaries in Muslin nations are brimming with detainees of the Islamic confidence. And afterward as well, shouldn't something be said about those individuals of the material and the neckline - like Catholic (and other) ministers and other church who utilize their places of power to 1) intellectually misuse little kids with frightening dangers of interminable discipline in Hell and 2) who genuinely misuse kids in their consideration, particularly captivating in sexual maltreatment. What's more, that is simply starting to expose the disasters submitted by those proclaiming strict confidence.

With respect to End Times

*Faith is a container! Proof? There have been a large number of exact prophetic estimates made by the devoted for the End Times; End of Days; the Second Coming; the Rapture; Armageddon; the Apocalypse, and so forth. There have been multi-a great many loyal devotees who have accepted those prophets. Every single such prescience have fizzled. None have ever happened. Score: reality of extremely genuine reality 1; confidence 0.

*We're despite everything pausing!

*Sorry Michele Bachmann and all related "End Times" fan, yet one more day has traveled every which way but then once more, God's a flake-out. Also, Jesus, of Second Coming distinction, gives off an impression of being somewhat late too. Did they neglect to set the morning timers? Did they miss the transport? Possibly their Holy Chariot had a level! Michele Bachmann and organization may accept that the end is near (and has been for very some extensive time) and the Rapture is impending (and has been for very some significant time also), yet I believe it's really ok for you to plan and pay for your next occasion and develop that savings for your long a long time in retirement.

With respect to Soul/Afterlife

*This may come as an amazement to numerous yet there was no confidence in an existence in the wake of death in antiquated Israeli Jewish people group. The main genuine reference to an existence in the wake of death in the Old Testament is at Daniel 12: 2. That is it. There are no different hits "forever endless" or "interminable life"; "life never-ending" or "never-ending life"; or "existence in the wake of death" or "eternal life" or even "restoration". So there's no area given for a life following death in the Old Testament on the grounds that with the one special case there is no understanding of an existence in the wake of death in the Old Testament and Daniel 12: 2 discussed no the hereafter area. Well that is truly amazing given the noticeable quality eternity gets in the New Testament. Maybe life following death was only an after-thought on God's part as in "hmm, it is extraordinary to have some consistent gracefully of new faces and friends to converse with me here upstairs on my eminent seat".

*As long as religions can dangle the hereafter carrot before the incredible unwashed (and furthermore taking into account the not very good washed), you'll never dispose of the organization (particularly when it utilizes countless individuals and produces billions in salary).

[kaiju3]

Persona 5 and the Major Arcana

In Persona 5, every major Confidant has a Major Arcana tied to their current role in life. In the Tarot cards where these roles originate from, the Major Arcana each represent an archetype that most of humanity can quickly identify. This post will attempt to explain how each Confidant possibly fits the Major Arcana assigned to them within the game.

Possible spoilers under the Read More.

0. The Fool - Igor

The Fool represents a new start, the basest beginning for the journey of life the entire Major Arcana represents. As Igor is the figure that gives the main character his powers and ultimately kickstarts the plot (which is even more true considering his actual role in creating the events of the game), Igor is given the Fool arcana.

1. The Magician - Morgana

The Magician represents the first step taken in a journey, acquiring the physical and spiritual tools one possesses to actually affect the world. It is, in essence, the card of picking up your toolbox and getting to work. Morgana’s role in the story is teaching the Phantom Thieves how to use the Metaverse as well as how to effectively use their Personas and navigate Palaces in order to change the world.

2. Priestess - Makoto Niijima

If the Magician is one’s physical capabilities, then the Priestess is one’s intellectual capabilities. As Student Council President and strategist for the Phantom Thieves, Makoto is indeed one smart cookie. But Makoto’s social link also revolves around her examining who she is as a person, requiring inward review.

3. Empress - Haru Okumura

The Empress is the card of feminity and the maternal role in one’s life. As a person, Haru is arguably the most effeminate of the group. However, Haru’s social link also revolves around her caring and nurturing new life, whether literally with her garden or figuratively with her dreams of running a cafe. Her Personas, Milady and Astarte, are also notable women in charge of their own destiny.

4. Emperor - Yusuke Kitagawa

While the Empress is matriarchal in nature, the Emperor is patriarchal and founded in masculine institutions and power structures. While Yusuke himself isn’t the most masculine of the group (a title arguably held by Ryuji or even Makoto when she’s furious), Yusuke’s conflict in life is mired in the negative aspects of the Emperor when he’s encountered. Exploited by his father figure Madarame, Yusuke is so traumatized by this revelation that he struggles to come to terms with it throughout the rest of his social link. In a stretched analysis, Yusuke’s social awkwardness and fascination with human interaction could also be him struggling with the closed-off nature of toxic masculinity put upon him. In any case, Yusuke’s struggle is that of a bad father figure and the institution that figure once dominated.

5. Heirophant - Sojiro Sakura

The Heirophant is the tarot card of tradition, religion, and institutions made important by age. As the mentor figure in the game, Sojiro’s fatherly wisdom assists the characters throughout the story. His social link is ultimately about coming to terms with the past and becoming an aged structure for the main character to rely upon.

6. Lovers - Ann Takamaki

The Lovers arcana is based around relationships, whether romantic or professional. Ann’s motivation to join the Phantom Thieves is, at its core, because of her strong relationship with Shiho. Likewise, her personas Carmen and Hecate are based around strong women taking control of their sexuality and the men around them. 

7. Chariot - Ryuji Sakamoto

“I’m gonna do the thing” is the basic premise of the Chariot Arcana. Action without thought, motivation without worry. Ryuji’s brash nature is on full display throughout the game, from when he jumps in front of a speeding taxi to save Makoto to sprinting across an exploding cruise liner to save his friends. His brashness gets him in trouble at times, especially after he punches Kamoshida in the face and disbands the track team. But when something needs to be done, Ryuji doesn’t hesitate to do it.

8. Justice - Goro Akechi

At first glance, the Arcana of Justice fits the role of a student detective like Akechi. But [SPOILERS] when he eventually betrays the party, Akechi reveals the reversed meaning of the card. Akechi was never given a fair chance, his role in the story determined for him by the circumstances of his birth and Yaldabaoth’s meddling. Akechi is dishonest and stuck in an unfair situation. The scales of justice were never in his favor.

9. Hermit - Futaba Sakura

Futaba is a NEET, trapped physically inside her own room and mentally inside her own head until the Phantom Thieves force her out of her shell. As the Hermit Arcana foretells, only intense internal reflection saves her in the end.

10. Wheel of Fortune - Mifune Chihaya

I honestly think this is just a pun on her being a fortune teller. However, the Wheel of Fortune also symbolizes the forces of the world no one can predict. She’s affected by forces outside of her own control, and the main character’s ability to decide his own fate is what catches her interest in the first place. 

11. Strength - Caroline/Justine

Strength is the arcana of internal willpower rather than actual physical strength. It is the ability to control the beast inside one’s self. With their role in the game to encourage the main character to make more and more powerful personas, they also encourage him to symbolically build up his own internal strength. And in the end, it is their willpower to stick to their beliefs and overcome their fears that allow them to find their true nature.

12. Hanged Man - Iwai Munehisa

The Hanged Man is the card of changing perspective. As a former Yakuza raising a child, Iwai’s social link revolves around reconciling his past along with attempting to understand his son. It also culminates in him learning to see himself in a different light. The gecko tattoo on his neck is also an instance of Iwai changing the meaning of one thing (his son’s birthmark) into another (family).

13. Death - Tae Takemi

The meaning of Death in the Major Arcana is not so literal. The card is actually a symbol for transition. Tae’s social link revolves around the (false) mistakes of her past and it is the main character that assists her in moving on with her life. The spectre of death in the form of her former patient’s mortality also haunts her throughout the game.

14. Temperance - Sadayo Kawakami

Temperance is the card of holding one’s self back and limiting the pleasures in life. Affected by the death of a former student and thinking it is her fault, Kawakami places many limits on herself, including in not getting close to other students and draining her own finances as reparations to the student’s parents. It’s only through the main character’s intervention that Kawakami actually begins to live for herself and take her role as a teacher more seriously.

15. Devil - Ohya Ichiko

If Temperance is saying no to drugs, the Devil is saying FUCK YES! The Devil is quite often the card of addiction and succumbing to desire. As an alcoholic and pleasure-seeker, Ichiko fits this to a tee.

16. Tower - Shinya Oda

The Tower is the Arcana of calamitious ruin and loss. As an expert arcade player, Shinya Oda is obsessed with winning. But by the end of his social link, the kid realizes that losing isn’t everything, only a new beginning.

This is the arcana I would also place the protagonist of Persona 5 into. After all, it is only after his entire life is flipped on its head and his future ruined does he enter the story.

17. Star - Hifumi Togo

After the disaster that is the Tower, the Star Arcana symbolizes calm and recovery. It is a spiritual card that requires reflection. It is through Hifumi’s intellectual shogi strategies that the main character learns to fight better, and Hifumi’s social link is ultimately one of recovering after a major defeat. Like Makoto, Hifumi has to come to terms with who she really wants to be.

18. Moon - Yuki Mishima

While many of the Arcana before touch on self-reflection, it is The Moon that actually represents the subconscious mind. Shadows and the repressed self all fall under the symbology of the Moon. Mishima’s social link is the only one where the protagonists deal with the Confidant’s own shadow, and his revelation is in coming to terms with the repressed anxieties and selfish desires withim himself. 

19. Sun - Toranosuke Yoshida

The Sun is a card of celebration. While the desires of the Moon are locked away, the traits of the Sun are on full display. As a politician, Yoshida spends most of his time announcing his ideas to the world and giving speeches that turn others to his point of view. Everything is on full display with this Confidant.

20. Judgement - Sae Niijima

Often depicted as angels calling on those for Judgement Day, the Judgement Arcana is the second-to-last card in the Major Arcana. It represents one last look at the self before the end, a need for absolution and awakening. As the interrogator of the main character, it is ultimately Sae’s decision to trust him or not and decide his ultimate fate. She is also the character with the most dramatic revelation, who is able to steer herself back on the path of justice despite her distorted desires being strong enough to create a Palace.