#and plenty of concerns about how well they handled everything with respect to the cultures they're drawing from

[ishgard]

Thank you sm to everyone who replied! I'm so glad to see most everyone is having fun, taking their time and enjoying themselves! Was just what I needed to finally pique my interest enough and start working on actually finishing endwalker 😂

so I'm not playing DT yet, but I'm super curious! WITHOUT SPOILERS, put your level and how much you are (or are not?) enjoying the expansion so far in the tags or comments? Whether its story, graphics, jobs, whatever! good or bad!

[kemetic-dreams]

                              An Introduction to Hoodoo

After dabbling in various spiritual practices, I discovered hoodoo and it changed my life. It provided a connection to my spiritual self that I hadn’t found in mainstream witchcraft and gave me the tools to directly handle the issues that come up in my life—money, relationship stress, even landlords. Hoodoo doesn’t have the barriers that many magical practices have—there’s just the work, and how you use it is up to you. Hoodoo grounds me and helps me find peace in troubling times. And when have times been more troubling than in 2020?

Hoodoo isn’t new, nor is it a catchall term for a variety of practices—which is how pop culture tends to portray it. Surprise! Hoodoo is actually its own practice with its own rules and history. In fact, the practice isn’t even called “spells,” but “work” or “chores.” It’s also been appropriated by many people—so a lot of misinformation is floating around online.

Hoodoo, at its core, is an African American tradition. It was created by enslaved people from various spiritual practices that they adapted to the land they found themselves in. Hoodoo is also known by other names, mainly conjure or rootwork. People who practice hoodoo work with a number of tools, such as candles, curios, and, of course, roots and herbs. Ancestor veneration is particularly important. Movies often show hoodoo as dark and harmful, but most of the work we do is concerned with healing and protection.

                               Hoodoo Isn’t Voodoo

There’s a lot of confusion about hoodoo and voodoo. If you think they’re the same, you’re not alone, but it’s time to unlearn that! Hoodoo and voodoo are very different. Voodoo, which is also spelled vodou, voudou, and voudun, is an actual religion that is commonly thought to have originated in Haiti and has roots in West African spiritual traditions.

As a religion, voodoo has specific practices, some of which you have to be ordained to perform. It has religious leaders, known as mambos and houngans, who oversee these practices. It has a set of deities and spirits that are worshipped and respected.

Hoodoo, by contrast, does not have these things. Although there is a belief in spirits and life-giving energies, there are no specific gods or god that you must follow. You are free to worship any gods (or not) that you want. There is no organized hierarchy. This isn’t to say there are no rules to working with roots—there are, but it does not have the specific structure associated with religion.

                             Hoodoo Isn’t for Everyone

Hoodoo is based in the African diaspora, and as such, it should be practiced only by African people. The work was developed to protect and heal us from the traumas of enslavement. We can see this in the roots used for traveling safely and the container works used for protecting the home against physical violence, winning a court case, or being overlooked by the law.

America has been dangerous to Black people since we were brought here, and hoodoo is a way for us to protect ourselves. It’s 2020, and these works remain incredibly relevant.

In order to practice hoodoo, you have to be able to engage with its history. As much as it may sting to hear, white people can’t practice hoodoo because you can’t call on the ancestors of oppressors of African people to engage in African magical traditions.

                          How to Get Started in Hoodoo

I started with a honey jar. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular when I stumbled upon a short article by Stephanie Rose Bird in an almanac. She outlined how to make a small honey jar—a jar filled with honey, curios, and herbs meant to “sweeten” a situation or person—and work it. (I use honey jars for creative work, but people also make them for their home, relationships, or just to promote self-love and self-care.) I wasn’t expecting anything, but I sat down and wrote my intentions, and over a few days, I slowly gathered the bits and pieces for my personal jar.

When I had everything I needed, I put it together and lit my first candle. To my surprise, I felt at peace and oddly accomplished. I hadn’t done much, but engaging in the process produced a connection and reaction that I was not expecting. I was hooked, and I sought out more. Before I knew it, I had an altar set up and candles in various colors just waiting for use.

I learned, quickly, that there are many fraudulent people who call themselves rootworkers and conjure doctors. In fact, some of the names that first come up in a Google search for “hoodoo” are those of white people who are often accused of cultural appropriation and not trusted by the community.

I had to really look to find resources I could trust. My search led me to more work by Bird, like her book Sticks, Stones, Roots & Bones, as well as historical texts like Zora Neale Hurston’s Hoodoo in America. I also found Mojo Workin’ by Katrina Hazzard Donald, which gave me the history of the practice.

You don’t have to begin your practice with a jar or any focused intention. There are plenty of works that are for general causes, such as safety or healing. Some say that the best way to begin is to get in touch with your ancestors through an altar. For those looking for a practical and simple way to get started, Bird’s book 365 Days of Hoodoo is a hands-on guide to immersing yourself in the practice.

How you engage with hoodoo is really up to you. Sit with it, find your comfort zone, and do the work.

[cardentist]

I haven’t been in the star trek fandom for very long (I’ve only just started binging the series in the last couple months), so it’s been pretty surprising to find out just how negative the perception of the reboot movies are.

this isn’t coming from the perspective of someone who grew up with the series, so it hit different for me than it might for people with a different relationship to TOS, but I thought it was genuinely clever and Respectful with how it was handled.

To quote leonard nimoy: “Well the alternative timeline gives them license to escape from canon concerns. I can’t see people saying ‘they shouldn’t do that because…’ or ‘that doesn’t tie in to such and such’ because it is a different time and place. Am I right about that?” [Link]

the entire Premise is that the original series happened as it was presented in TOS, but an event late in Spock’s life caused the creation of a parallel universe in which everyone’s lives were significantly altered through two key changes to the timeline. this gives them the freedom to Both revel in fanservice And explore different facets of the characters and their relationships. 

the destruction of vulcan Vastly impacts the characters and the plot moving forward, and its a detail that a lot of people take issue with. but the emotional impact of sarek admitting Directly to spock that there is value in his humanity, that his feelings Aren’t wrong, that sarek married amanda because he Loved her cannot be understated. you can read all of these things into sarek as he was in the original series, but he Never had an open conversation about these things with spock. this creates a Believable and Rewarding change in their relationship, where we get to see a different facet of them Because of the changes made. and that’s exactly the appeal. showing us pieces of these characters that we never got in TOS that are nevertheless undeniably Them.

everyone is Different yes, but they’re also fundamentally the same people at their core and that matters.

kirk’s personality obviously takes the biggest change, with him experiencing trauma at a young age, losing his father, and having an implied abusive father figure after that point. he has a harsher personality in reaction to harsher conditions, he’s spikier and harder to love. but he’s also still fundamentally a Good person whose willing to risk everything to help people. he still has what made kirk prime a good captain and a good friend.

I’m not gonna say that it’s the most nuanced story in the world, but it explores a version of kirk that was born from even Less fortunate circumstances than kirk prime, exploring a kirk brimming with potential who learned to bite back after he was kicked down. exploring those themes of trauma and loss, of insecurity and growth, and coming to the conclusion that Fundamentally He Is Capable Of Good isn’t a Bad thing. you don’t have to like it, but his growth into a better person is The Point. they deepened his flaws (all of which were present in a less exaggerated form in TOS) To Show That Growth.

and then of course there’s his relationship with spock.

people are totally justified in not liking that they had a rough start to their relationship, I usually don’t like to see that kind of thing in reboots or hollywood adaptations either, but the way people talk about it is just unfair.

Yes kirk and spock and bones have a very strong relationship in TOS, they also already know each other by the time the show starts. to look at them having to learn to get to know and trust each other when they first meet and say that it’s Bad because they were already full on ride or die for each other in the og series is silly. TOS kirk and spock had to meet and fall in love with each other too, it didn’t just happen over night kings.

secondly, the entire point of the first movie is that Even With reality itself being altered to pull them apart they are fundamentally compatible people that are Bound to each other. they meet each other on bad terms because of circumstances outside of their control, and yet they’re still pulled into each other’s orbit and find the other slotting into place next to them as if they always belonged. one of the first things that spock prime says in the movie is “I am and always will be your friend,” spock and jim are Meant for each other and the movie goes out of its way to explain that. which is what makes it so Weird to see people complaining about how they don’t like each other.

it’s a Different relationship, but it’s absolutely no less steeped in yearning or queer subtext. 

speaking of queer subtext ! some people are Very unhappy with spock’s relationship with uhura.

first thing I wanna say is that making the argument that they’re doing anything that the original series hasn’t done is just, completely untrue. kirk has fallen in love with more girls in the og series than he knew what to do with, leonard nimoy was a heartthrob in his time (and he deserves it, awooga) and spock reflects that ! Spock usually turns the women who come onto him down (or when he doesn’t it’s because a plant has literally altered his mind), but there are exceptions to even that. all of three of the main boys have plenty of romance subplots, it happens. if that takes the possibility of them being queer off the table for you (which it shouldn’t, m-spec people exist) then I’m sorry to say that TOS is not exempt.

now, I can understand why Specifically This Relationship could rub people the wrong way or being disappointed that they didn’t outright depict kirk and spock as having a relationship (if not in the first movie then in the following ones after they’ve gotten to know each other), but even in that context the way I’ve seen people talk about it comes off as insensitive.

no, the relationship did not come out of nowhere. they considered having spock and uhura date each other in the original show (and you can see signs of this in the earlier episodes, where uhura very obviously flirts with him and they spend time together in their down time) before they decided against it, and spock was originally going to kiss uhura until shatner insisted that he wanted to do it (because it was the first interracial kiss on tv). [Link 1, Link 2, Link 3]

nichelle nichols was asked about this exact thing (spock and uhura’s relationship in the movie), you can read the interview in full here [Link] but I’d like to highlight this paragraph in particular:

“Now, go back to my participation in Star Trek as Uhura and Leonard (Nimoy) as Spock. There was always a connection between Uhura and Spock. It was the early 60’s, so you couldn’t do what you can do now, but if you will remember, Uhura related to Spock. When she saw the captain lost in space out there in her mirror, it was Spock who consoled her when she went screaming out of her room. When Spock needed an expert to help save the ship, you remember that Uhura put something together and related back to him the famous words, “I don’t know if I can do this. I’m afraid.” And Uhura was the only one who could do a spoof on Spock. Remember the song (in “Charlie X”)? Those were the hints, as far as I’m concerned.”

the film makers looked at the fact there were Hints for uhura and spock, that they were Interested in exploring an interracial couple for the first time (both before and immediately after interracial couples won the right to legally get married) but Couldn’t because of the circumstances of the times and decided to Make that depiction. you don’t have to Like their relationship just because of that fact, but it’s Incredibly reductive to play down it’s significance as just a No Homo cop out. explicitly queer relationships are not the only progressive or culturally important relationships in fiction.

moreover, if you can’t imagine polyamory in the communist utopian future that’s on you.

moreover, this perception that this was a soulless cash grab is just, unfounded.

leonard nimoy returned to the role as spock for the first time in 16 years (since 1991) and this was Entirely because of the respect they had for nimoy, spock as a character, and the franchise as a whole. 

Lets look at some quotes from nimoy in interviews regarding the film:

Leonard Nimoy: When I first read the script (...) I immediately contacted J.J. and said “I think it is terrific…I think you guys have done a wonderful job. There is still work to be done, but it is very clear that you and your writers know what you are doing and you know how to do this movie and know what it should be about….and I am very interested.” Then as time went by we worked things out with Paramount, but the most important things were J.J. and the script. (...) I am very pleased about that and I am very comfortable with where this is going. I think the writers have done a terrific job. They have a real sense of the characters and the heart of Star Trek and what it is really all about.

(...)

TrekMovie.com: Now in the case of the new movie you have been retired from acting for years. What was it about this one that made you want to act again and go through the make up again? What was it that made you say ‘I really want to do this?’

Leonard Nimoy: You are right, this is a special situation. First it is Star Trek and so I have to pay attention. I owe that to Star Trek. Second place is that it is J.J. Abrams who I think very highly of, he is a very talented guy. Then came the script and it was very clear that I could make a contribution here. The Spock character that I am playing, the original Spock character, is essential and important to the script. So on the basis of those three elements it was easy to make the decision. So those three things: Star Trek, J.J. Abrams, and an interesting Spock role.

[Link]

Praising the cast playing younger versions of characters from the original 1960s TV series, he [Leonard Nimoy] said: “Let me take the opportunity to say this. Everybody at this table [the cast] are very, very talented and intelligent people.”

“They found their own way to bring that talent and intelligence to this movie, and I think it shows. (...)  When Karl Urban introduced himself as Leonard McCoy and shook hands with Chris Pine, I burst into tears. That performance of his is so moving, so touching and so powerful as Doctor McCoy, that I think D. Kelley would be smiling, and maybe in tears as well.”

“The makers of this film reawakened the passion in me that I had when we made the original film and series. I was put back in touch with what I cared about and liked about Star Trek, and why I enjoyed being involved with Star Trek. So, it was an easy way to come on home.”

“[In this Star Trek] they said things and showed me things, and demonstrated the sensibility that I felt very comfortable with, and I think that shows in the movie. I like it.”

[Link 1, Link 2]

again, you don’t have to like it just because leonard nimoy did, you don’t have to Agree. but the idea that nobody working on the film Cared is provably false. near everyone working on the project was already a fan of the series or were excited to be involved and did their homework. it’s genuinely a Miracle just how much of a labor of love this was, and in my opinion you can feel that through the movie itself. I’d highly recommend looking into interviews and behind the scenes details about the movies. they had a respect not just for the source material, but for leonard nimoy as a person.

there’s definitely more I Could say about this, but it’s 4 am now so I’m gonna shelve it jklfdsa

that said! it’s Fine to not like the movie, not everything is going to be suited to everyone’s taste, but the specific criticisms I’ve seen feel very off base

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 25: Silver Lining

Just another day, like any other. Esredes was on his walk to work, and in a particular mood. His mind was wandering once more as he passed the Vault, to fantasies that faded far beyond reality. Imagine if the Warrior hadn't interfered until Nidhogg reared his ugly head. Imagine if Ysayle had killed the Archbishop, before he could take on his own transformation, and the two of them had dealt with Nidhogg. Esredes hadn't trusted Ishgard's people enough, perhaps even less than Ysayle herself. He was fully mentally prepared for having to subjugate Ishgard to get it to listen to them. But perhaps, as things had turned out, not nearly as many would have needed subjugation. Perhaps he wouldn't need to help manage a fragile, in chaos city-state that had been taken over, especially when so many of his own had nothing even close to management skills, perhaps a proper parley would've been possible. And yet, Esredes pulled himself back to reality and reminded himself, that was never quite the case. Peace had been agreed to, and that was it. Himself and all of his were only here on Ishgard's terms or else, and the rest simply had to be dealt with. Still he went through his days in anticipation of being fired for shining progressives who repeated his ideologies on Ishgard's side, or of his house burning down when he got home. Ah, what would life have been like if he wasn't a failure who couldn't match up to idiotic children with goddess powers? It was a question he asked himself here and there, swirling around with all the others, and in his head, timelines began to split off, mirrors into other worlds for him to glance into. In one, he saw himself back with his family in Thanalan. He lived under a new identity and kept quiet and to himself, always afraid of the Ishgardian government finding him out. He worked a simple job that had him feeling nothing, and though he hoped to earn his parents' forgiveness through it, things didn't really change. Esredes looked away from the mirror and towards the approaching door to his office, and opened it and went inside. He greeted the receptionist as always, then greeted Heilyn and Ferrant, quipped with Heilyn about the fact he would never brush his damn hair properly and it looked like ass or something stupid like that. Work went steady today- Esredes cozied himself up with a cup of white tea and busied himself writing some in depth notes on Dragon Blood observations to use as a reference. With how many people he had encountered here and there who would do any amount of dubious things to obtain such information, the casual scrawl on the paper gave no indication of awareness of this. Just another day, just another paper amongst many, cloaked in the tranquility of absurdity. Another mirror opened in Esredes' head as he worked. In this one, Esredes had gone through with one of his fleeting ideas and fled to the Far East when Ishgard rejoined the Alliance, and oh my, was he lost. Completely out of his depth, he had to fight off multiple people trying to mug him in Kugane until someone watched his latest skirmish and approached him. "You're good with a sword," the man said as Esredes shrunk back and kept his hand wrapped around its handle. "How would you like an opportunity to put it to the test?" And so Esredes watched himself hesitantly agree after sixty and a half questions to work for a Kugane lord as a bodyguard. It was a place to stay and decent pay, to stand around and observe everyone like a hawk. He got to know some people around the home and the streets of Kugane who looked upon him with respect, yet caught himself glancing over the sea even on a good day and remembering everything he left completely behind. Esredes got up to refill his tea, and the mirror closed. Soon after, Heilyn called him over to the office across the hall, and surprised him with a sweater- knit entirely by him in that periwinkle blue reminiscent of Shiva. So that he had more than one sweater, Heilyn said. Esredes smiled and thanked the man back, giving him a soft hug of gratitude. Ferrant was also his usual cheerful self today, asking after if Esredes was feeling all right and letting him know he appreciated him. All very routine, yet he never tired of it. At lunch hour, he had an appointment of the strangest sort, so he retrieved his coat and exited the building and made his way down to the Firmament. Esredes was in a little bit of hot water recently, having chased down a double agent to his people and getting in trouble after he was arrested for the act of vigilantism- as if that was the worst thing he had done while back in the city. And yet the head Inquisitor on the chase wrote to him and invited him out to lunch with his friend who also got involved with the chase. To know them both as a person, she claimed. He was completely lost as to the motivation, but Esredes could tell she was an Inquisitor who had an actual soul, a normal person's thought process. So he accepted and went on a picnic. She served arancini, an imitation recipe from the Far East. Elouan took most of the conversation as Esredes anticipated, and he didn't have to do much work as he listened to her and her bodyguard talk about how much they want to visit the Far East, and Elouan filled them in on his own travels. What a nice and unexpected little bubble in the veil of absurdity. Another mirror manifested during the picnic, and Esredes saw himself with his knees curled up, sitting on the ground in a pathetically tiny cell, and from the expression on his face alone, clearly having lost his mind. He flinched and ignored the mirror after his initial glance, focusing his attention on Elouan's babbling exclusively. When everything wrapped up and he returned for the second half of work, Esredes made a few discreet calls in his office to the network about arrangements for later. A little outing with an actually human Inquisitor was nice, but the man knew what he was, and there was always work to do. He took a break in the middle to move over to the Blue Room for an appointment. Clover's ward Teagan had begun seeing him in the past couple months, a woman rescued from life in a fighting ring in Ul'dah who was still perpetually trying to learn and adjust to life beyond. They always had good discussions, even after he put her to looking into the water. This time, to teach her about Ishgardian culture, he had ended up going into his own story up until everything fell. "How did you do it? Turn it around, I mean? It must have been hard, pulling yourself out of that... how did you manage?" She asked him after that. Esredes had to pause a moment to think about his answer. "I had to take it a day at a time. The other members of the camp were not unsupportive. They were concerned, they wish they knew what to say or do, but I was completely unreachable. So, for one thing, I'm someone who doesn't believe in meeting your death unless you have to. It's more productive to die so someone else lives than to simply off yourself. So every day, it was get from start to finish. There was a routine. Do your tasks, break for meals, read in your tent, avoid talking to anyone any longer than you had to. Keep doing this, and eventually you would either die, or something would happen that you were waiting for. Just, something to happen. It was all I really had besides keeping in mind my family- what if I missed something happening? Eventually, I realized these people were that, people. Who cared. Who did not want to kill me for being a knight as I thought. And I decided that, while I could've fled to Thanalan and tried to live as a normal person, I wanted to stay and make a difference, even a small one. Help people in my situation to be saved and survive, not perish to Ishgard, even if there was no chance of making a bigger difference by that point. And when Ysayle entered the picture, that changed everything, and the rest is history." "I think I can understand that... I, for one, am glad the sun continued to rise for you...that you were able to find reasons to keep going, ways to help people." She gave a small smile. "I bet you've made plenty of differences with all the folks you've helped along your journey. Cause it's not just the big ones that matter, yeah?""Well, had I not been concerned about the small child who was alone in the woods, we wouldn't be here, so yes. And that's what I enjoy about doing this on the side nowadays- the pleasure of seeing it affect individual people in real time. The way I ended up discussing it with another client, is you have to figure out the way to get out of the room. You're in a room, and you can get out and see what's beyond it, but you're just not ready to yet, you find yourself unable. Once you can manage to get out of the room and see what's beyond it, everything becomes a little easier." Teagan tilted her head at this. "A... room? So... you finding the drive to help others helped you open your 'room'?" "It helped me get out of it, yes. I realized I still had something to do and people cared. People really helped a lot, even though I was pushing them away. Just knowing they wanted me to feel better and believed in me as a person.... after everything else fell through, it was all I had." She nodded and smiled a little. "I'm glad you were able to find the door, and that you had people there to help you find the knob." She paused for a brief moment. "... Thank you for sharing your story with me, Esredes. It's been really eye-opening." And so the session concluded, and soon Esredes was back out into the world. First half of the day was over, and then it was time for the second. There was not a formal meeting happening with his people tonight, but instead a get together of sorts at Vette's more recently acquired mansion she had made into a space for all of them to convene safely. Esredes went to and from everybody, making sure everyone was doing well, holding conversations and watching everyone enjoy themselves with a faint smile on his face. He stepped into the bathroom at one point to do his business, and washed his hands after. He was confused why there was a second bathroom mirror for a moment until it began to show him another reality. Esredes stepped back from the sink and put a hand against the wall to his left, the other going over his heart. Reflected back at him in the mirror was a collection of all the people he knew and loved close together, with himself standing further away on the platform and forced to stare at them. A mass public execution. Esredes rushed out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut, pressing his entire body against the door and breathing in and out, in and out. It's not real. It's not real. "Esredes?" Came a gentle voice, as Vette approached the man. She had most definitely felt the spike in distress from the aetherial bond they shared. She asked about how he was doing and put a soft hand to his cheek. "I'm all right, really." Esredes said. "I just had... an unexpected wave of fear come over me." Vette was always in tune with how he felt. She helped him calm down the rest of the way, and then lead him back to the gathering. The anxiety soon faded, and replaced by it, a warm feeling heated the blood inside him. For the rest of the evening, Esredes continued to engage with his family, waves of laughter and elation surging and falling in with the tide. He only hoped that the droplets of gratitude leaking from his fingertips and voice washed over everyone attending like a cool rain on a summer's day, for as he closed his eyes and let each droplet of noise from their voices and words hit him, everything stood right into place where it belonged.

--- @thecalmnessandthestorms / @heartofthefury Heilyn, Ferrant, Sartorius (unnamed mention) @eternal-finis Lieuvanne (unnamed mention) @shieldbcund Elouan @punches-and-cream-puffs Teagan @syerraffxiv Vette

[britishrfblog]

The “Meghan didn’t understand what she was getting into/ moved too fast with Harry” argument is bullshit, and here’s why:

I recently came across a royal-confessions post and the confessor mentioned this so I thought I’d give my 2 cents.

I’m so sick of the narrative of “Meghan is American so she couldn’t or didn’t understand the British way of living blah blah blah” or “she married in so fast so she didn’t understand what she was getting into etc”. Its condescending tbh. It’s a spun narrative to put part of the blame on Meghan. Implying she was incapable of understanding Britishness and royalty; it’s a very backhanded way of trying to sound nice and understanding. It’s very textbook Britain; coming off as rational and understanding but also putting the blame on someone else, insulting their decision making skills and therefore absolving youself from some of the blame while deflecting away from real concerns about racism. Its a very polite and subtle way to gaslight someone. Waiting to marry Harry would not have saved her from the media assault that came her way, so it’s just irrelevant to me.

No one really gave her a chance to even learn the British culture. There are plenty of nonBrits who move to Britain and when given the chance they adapt fine. She only lived there for what about 2 YEARS? Idk if some Brits just have an inflated sense of their own culture or whatever but honestly, British culture and norms are not rocket science. Even with the added layer of marrying royalty, it’s doable and learnable and given the time and opportunity, Meghan would’ve adapted fine. What’s actually difficult is the press, the criticism, the courtiers, the racism. That’s not a cultural difference problem, that’s a bunch of people being unfair assholes.

The institutions in Britain are old, stubborn deeply racist and cling to a very specific status quo, patriarchal British white supremacy. Meghan, not by action but just by her presence alone, represented something these institutions saw as dangerous in some way to their status quo. Whether they felt this consciously or unconsciously, they were never going to accept whatever Meghan does because they don’t accept her as a person (whether it be because of racism, sexism, xenophobia etc.).

Before Harry met Meghan, he was seen as a rule breaker but it was always shown in a positive light because the change was coming from a white man. Even when people talk about Diana, they go on and on about how much she changed the monarchy and it’s shown positively because she’s a white woman. Then Meghan comes in and barely does anything and everyone shits themself about how she’s changing everything when really all she’s done is launch a book, edit vogue, have a baby, launch the clothes line and go on tour. She hasn’t actually changed anything and I suspect she never wanted or intended to change the monarchy. You don’t see her telling the queen, Charles, William or Kate what to do or how to do it.

These institutions perceived her very presence as a change, a threat or challenge even when she isn’t doing anything. People (specifically white people, no shade!) need to understand that black bodies are extremely politicized even when a black person is not doing anything political, provocative or controversial. The dilemma of living in an overly politicized body means that even if you’re just existing and minding your own business, it could be made into an issue for someone. The black body is such a loaded figure within society and carries a lot of nuance, complexity and history in regards to how we move through society and how society (as well as individual structures and institutions within society like the media for example) respond to us, define us, treat us, values us, perceive us, serve us and judge us. This is why black people have the police called on them for no reason other then theyre existing and some uppity person sees it as a problem. Meghan waiting to marry Harry wouldn’t have changed any of this AT ALL.

Meghan understood that it’d be difficult, she out right said it, she just wasn’t expecting the visceral push back that came at her despite her doing nothing to provoke it. And that’s what she meant when she said she thought it’d be fair. **How could Meghan predict what would happen to her marrying into the brf if no one like her has ever married into this position before?!** There was nothing to go on for a biracial divorced American marrying into the British royal family, because Meghan is the first one. So why people expected her to know it would be this bad is beyond me. It was never this bad for any of the previous ones because they weren’t biracial divorced Americans.

The media expected Meghan (and Harry) to stay down and take whatever abuse they threw at her and shut up. While other members of the family were treated better, and by that I mean, handled with more respect and/or restraint when being discussed in the media (ie. Andrew). Her and Harry being self respecting adults did not agree with their working conditions. They tried to work it out but didn’t reach a compromise and didn’t see any adequate help, so they exercised their free will and decided to leave. Sounds reasonable to me.

So that’s why the “cultural differences” argument is so weak to me. There are deeper and more powerful things at play here. I don’t think Meghan is to blame for how Britain reacted to her tbh. People are accountable for their own reactions. **She didn’t actually do or say anything offensive.** She was starting a new job and had a baby, that’s literally it.

[3rachasaucy]

good little girl (pt. 2) || mark lee

Word Count: 2.4K

Type: angst, fluff, not really mature themes but maybe you'd disagree 🤷🏼‍♀️

Warning: cursing, mentions of alcohol & getting drunk, i can't think of anything else

Description: Mark is hopelessly hung up on you after you left him

A/N: this is pt 2! in order to understand, pls go read pt 1 (just scroll down a bit on my blog & it's one of the newest posts)! sorry this took so long 🥺 i genuinely wanted to post it so long ago, but it was midterm season & i was drowning 😅 but, i finally got around to finishing, so here it is! i hope you all enjoy & pls remember you are perfect the way you are 💕💕💕

♡♡♡♡

Mark sighed as you walked passed him on the sidewalk, talking with some girl he didn't know. He hated how you acted as if he wasn't there and even more how upset it made him. Why couldn't he just get over you? He had kissed plenty of girls and been over it the next day. What was so special about you?

"Hey, why don't we go to a party tonight?" Jeno suggested, noticing his friend's downcast expression. "Yeji's having dinner with her mom, so I'm free."

It had been a minute since Mark went to his last party. He had been so preoccupied with his thoughts of you. Maybe a party was what he needed; other girls to get his mind off you.

He certainly was getting over his upset feelings, which were being replaced by frustrated ones. "Let's do it. A party sounds really good right now," he finally said. He was ready to make bad decisions and regret them on a later date.

For now, he just wanted to stop thinking about you. It was obvious you didn't care. You kissing him that night must have been a mistake. He wished he felt the same way.

"And, you know, maybe Y/N does like you. Yeji said so herself that Y/N's always wanted a boyfriend that her parents adore, so maybe her fear is just that they won't like you."

Jeno was clearly just trying to make him feel better, but it wasn't working. So, what? Mark had to be a completely different person just to be with you? He wanted you to like him for him, not for someone his parents wanted him to be.

As they walked by the library, he glanced at his reflection in the windows. Was it his hair? The bleached blonde look may be off-putting. His clothes? They could be worse...nothing was wrong with leather pants here and there. He remembered the cigarettes in his pocket. That was a bad habit he had always wanted to quit but never had the motivation to do so. Maybe you could be his motivation.

He had a sharp tongue, too. Respect was always something he tried to work on. Personally, he felt that he should only give his respect to those worthy, but that wasn't South Korea's culture and he was expected to respect all his elders/superiors. His partying ways, well, those seemed to be dying out on their own due to you.

Was he really willing to change some of these aspects of himself for you? It seemed silly, but he was going crazy because of you, so might as well add more to that list...right?

♡♡♡♡

Jeno decided Mark had been at the party long enough. It was 11 PM and his friend was drunk and kissing yet another random girl. The party was a bad idea. Mark wanted you, so what was he doing? If you saw photos of the party and happened to see Mark kissing some girl in the background, it would be over.

Even if Jeno was just as unsure about your feelings for Mark, he still wanted to make sure the boy had a fighting chance.

"Why doesn't she want me?" Mark whined, his head slumping on Jeno's shoulder. "Am I that awful?"

It wasn't Jeno's first time seeing Mark drunk, but it was definitely his first time seeing an upset Mark drunk. He felt clingy and pouty...and childish. "You're not awful. Some people are just scared of love," Jeno reminded him, trying his best to keep Mark from slumping over completely. He needed to get some coffee into him. "I thought you were the same way."

Mark snorted. "Yeah, me too, but then stupid, good little girl Y/N came along and ruined me. Why does she have to be so perfect?"

Obviously, you were far from perfect, so it was amusing to hear Mark say you were despite everything. "You really like her a lot, huh?"

"It's like how you feel with Yeji. You know that feeling, right? Just thinking about them makes your chest tighten with happiness. That's how I feel about Y/N," Mark confessed quietly. "It's dumb, but she makes me feel like I'm not as bad as other people think I am. I like that feeling."

Jeno understood well. Before he was dating Yeji, he was in Mark's shoes, but Yeji helped him realize he had just acted that way to fit the image society had of him. He imagined it was the same for Mark.

A sigh left Mark's mouth followed by a loud groan before he whined out, "Where are we going? I'm tired!"

"Getting some coffee to sober you up and wake you up enough to get you home," Jeno told him as they arrived at the coffee shop. He glanced inside and found it was empty, which wasn't surprising. Then, you appeared. Crap. That wasn't good. "You stay here, okay? I'm gonna grab something really quickly. If you leave, I'm telling Y/N about all the girls you kissed."

Mark merely whined in protest before slumping against the wall. Jeno made sure he was able to stand on his own before rushing inside. "Welcome!" you greeted before turning around. "Oh, hey Jeno. You're alone?"

He felt nervous. "Why wouldn't I be? Yeji's with her mom."

"I know that, but I just thought you'd be having a guys night or something."

Right, that made sense. He needed to chill out. "Anyway, what can I get for you?" you asked just as Hyunjin, Yeji's cousin, left the storage room. "Oh, did you finally clean up your mess?"

He narrowed his eyes at you after greeting Jeno. "I wouldn't have spilled those coffee stirrers if you hadn't scared me," he reminded you, poking your side in a playful manner.

You were flirting with him. That wasn't good. Jeno checked to make sure Mark hadn't seen you. Luckily, the coast seemed clear. Jeno turned and you were staring at him. Did he look suspicious?

"Jeno...your order?" you questioned.

Ah, right. Duh! "Um, whatever has a lot of caffeine in it," he finally said and you nodded. "Something sweet, I guess."

Turning, you went to prepare his order. "What do we do, Y/N?" Hyunjin questioned. You turned and looked at him, confusion and concern evident on your face. "What do we do when he asks for something sweet and the sweetest thing here is you?"

Jeno wanted to hit him, but he didn't since he was Yeji's cousin. "Shut up!" you giggled, elbowing him.

"Oh, wow, isn't that cute," Mark said from the doorway, making Jeno jump. Shit. "Honestly, fuck you, Y/N."

What was he doing? "Dude, shut the hell up," Jeno hissed, trying to get Mark to leave, but the older boy refused. "Seriously, don't do this now."

Mark, unfortunately, was drunk and stubborn. "Here I've been suffering because you left me after we kissed but you've been flirting with Yeji's cousin. Don't you have a fucking heart or a little bit of decency? If you don't like me then fucking tell me instead of acting like I don't exist!"

You and Hyunjin were both stunned. Hyunjin felt uncomfortable and a bit apologetic. "There's nothing between me and Y/N," he tried to tell Mark.

"I don't care what you say. You expect me to believe you're just friends with her after I just watched you flirt?" Mark asked. "Can't say I blame you...she's perfect."

Jeno saw Mark's vulnerable state as an opportunity to get him to leave. "Okay, let's go," he sighed. Luckily, Mark complied. "Sorry about this, Y/N. He's not in the right state of mind."

The two left, leaving you still stunned and holding a coffee cup.

Yeji and Jeno went over to Mark's apartment the next day to confront him about everything. It wasn't meant to be intense, they just thought they should talk to him. When they got there, however, he was gone. According to the building's security guard, he had left after Jeno did. That worried them.

They called you to see if you knew anything. "No, I haven't seen him since last night. Why? Did something happen?" you asked before they explained. "That's not good. I'll go check the other apartment and keep you guys posted."

So, you left to see if he was there. You were really hoping he hadn't done something dumb and gotten himself into trouble.

When you got there, you could hear muffled voices. One of them had to be Mark. The other, however, was a mystery? Was it a girl? Mark said they didn't bring just anyone there to keep it private. You hated how worried you were at the thought of it being another girl.

Even so, you input the passcode before entering. "I fucked up!" Mark cried out, storming down the hall as you entered.

A tall guy was standing in the living room. "Oh, hello," he greeted. He looked you up and down before smiling. "You must be Y/N."

You nodded, still confused. He walked over and held his hand out. "I'm Johnny, Mark's friend. I've heard a lot about you," Johnny informed you as you shook hands. "I'm glad I finally get to meet you."

"Is Mark okay?" you asked, still confused.

He laughed. "Definitely not. Let's just say he did something he's regretting pretty instantaneously." You nodded. "Mark! Your girlfriend is here!"

You blushed at that. "Fuck!" Mark cried out from the bathroom.

Johnny turned back to you, still smiling. "Well, Y/N, it was a pleasure to meet you and I hope I can meet you again to better get to know you," he said. "For now, I'll leave you to handle the boy. Have a good day."

"B-bye, it was nice meeting you," you managed out as he left. The bathroom door opened again and Mark left with his hood on, the drawstrings pulled so you could barely see his face. "Mark, what did you do?"

"N-nothing! Don't worry about it," he told you nervously. "Why are you even here?"

Right, you needed to text Jeno and Yeji. "Jeno and Yeji went over to your place but found out you left in the middle of the night, so they were worried."

He nodded. "Okay, well, I'm alive, so you can just text them and be on your way."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "What the hell did you do, Mark?" you asked, stepping closer to him. "You didn't get a face tattoo, did you?"

"No!" he cried out, backing into his room to avoid you. "Just leave me alone!"

Of course, you just had to know what he was hiding. You could see he was about to trip over his mattress, so you used that to your advantage. The moment he fell backwards on the mattress, you tackled him.

He squirmed beneath you as you reached for his hood, ignoring his protests. Your eyes widened once the hood was down. "Mark! Your hair!" you gasped. Your fingers went to his now black locks. "What did you do?"

Clearly, he dyed and cut his hair, but why? "I did it for you. I thought you wouldn't be so embarrassed to introduce me to your parents if I looked more presentable. Now I look like an idiot who changed for some girl that doesn't even like him."

"Mark, I liked your hair and I don't want you to change who you are. I do like you, Mark."

His eyebrows furrowed. "You do? But...you left me," he reminded you.

You nodded. "Because I was scared. I mean, my boyfriend getting along with my parents is important to me and I also want a boyfriend who only loves me, but I wasn't sure you could do that," you confessed. "But that's different now."

Sitting up, he held onto you to keep you on his lap. "What do you mean?"

"Yeji told her mom about us and, it just so happens, our moms are friends. Her mom told my mom everything and my mom called me this morning to tell me to stop being stupid and date you." You laughed at his surprised reaction. "I guess I was so scared that I didn't think to talk to my mom. She told me that she thinks you sound like a sweet boy. She said any boy who treats me like a queen is good in her book and that I need to stop stressing and do what makes me happy."

Mark's heart was pounding faster than ever as he asked, "What does this mean?"

You smiled, running a hand through his freshly dyed hair. "It means that, if you'll accept me and forgive me for being a bitch, I wanna be your girlfriend," you confessed, making him smile wider than he had in a while.

"I'd love nothing more," he told you softly before connecting your lips. He had missed your touch and taste and wanted nothing more than to just melt in it. He briefly broke the kiss. "And don't use that language, okay? You're supposed to be my good little girl."

Giggling, you nodded before saying, "And only your good little girl."

"Shit, things are getting real PG-13 in here," Jeno said from the doorway, making you and Mark jump. "Damn, I really didn't expect this."

Yeji squealed happily. "This is great! Think of all the double dates and our joint wedding!" she exclaimed, making you laugh. Her eyes suddenly widened. "Mark! Your hair!"

His hand instinctively went to the black locks. "It was an impulsive dye job. I thought if I dyed my hair, her parents might like me and we could date," he confessed.

"That's so sweet! You dyed your hair just for our little Y/N? He's a keeper, babe."

You smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I guess he is," you said, making him smile.

Jeno was so glad things worked out, especially after the night before. "Come on, we came to take you to breakfast, but I guess it can be our first brunch double date," he said, making Yeji clap happily.

They led the way and you followed but were stopped when Mark tugged at your wrist, pulling you into him. "One more for the road," he mumbled before kissing you again.

You smiled into the kiss and he decided it was one of his new favorite feelings ever. One thing was for sure, you were his good little girl and he was your not-so-bad little boy.

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

What about Byron?

PART THIRTY-EIGHT OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: mentions of surgery/appendicitis, mentions of family trauma, plentiful pop culture references, this is just fluff I know guys but I needed something to restore my faith in humanity even just momentarily

Word Count: 5.5K

Summary: The first Thanksgiving in Ella and Jess’s new apartment doesn’t go exactly according to plan.

Humming a She Wants Revenge song under her breath, Ella leaned back against the cabinets and dried the fragile dishes. She was reminded of their days at the diner as Jess stood over the kitchen sink washing them. From her spot sitting on the counter right next to him, she could admire his profile and feel her cheeks heat up at the sight. He had grown into himself so well. But his beauty and her comfort at his presence were probably the only things keeping her nerves at bay. The dishes, her mother’s, had come in the mail from Fiona only two days earlier. White faux China adorned with pinkish-red roses. Ella had taken a few moments to recognize them, since there had been no note along with them. But then she remembered family holidays when her mother would take them out, only used for the most special occasions. Even though they were chipped in some places and had been bought at a rummage sale just after her parents had gotten married.

The dishes were where the plans for the holiday truly started to form. Chris, Leo, Matthew, and Mabel all had other engagements which took them out of town for Thanksgiving. Ella and Jess were still unsure of what they were doing. Adam was going to Noah’s, Fiona was going to her sister’s. Still, no word from Jake. Jess was wary of staying in Stars Hollow, though his time at the community center therapist’s office had been doing him well. They bounced him around to a different counselor each time he went, and talking to a complete stranger about all his issues hadn’t come easy, still wasn’t coming easy. But maybe just the fact that he was trying made him feel better.

On a whim, at the sight of the dishes, Ella had a wild idea. Instead of going to Stars Hollow, why not bring Stars Hollow to Philadelphia? The dishes were meant to be used. She couldn’t neglect them like an instrument unplayed. Not her mother’s dishes. And when she’d run it by Jess, he’d been more receptive than she’d thought he would be. Maybe he was just surprised she was open to contacting anyone from her family at all. She still seemed so standoffish about them, since the graduation ceremony. And the apartment wasn’t big, but certainly they could handle a few people over for one afternoon. Julie, Michael, and their girls would be in attendance. Along with Luke and Lorelai. But, when Liz and TJ heard Luke and Lorelai were coming, they somehow managed to invite themselves.

Jess wasn’t thrilled about it, and neither was Ella, but they were trying to keep level heads. Plan everything in advance and keep the day-of to a low-stress affair. It was only Monday, and they were already washing the dishes. It made Ella feel slightly more secure. And she had the whole week off, leaving plenty more time to prepare. Luke and Lorelai were also coming on Wednesday and staying the night at a motel, though Ella and Jess insisted they didn’t need to help. Ella was shocked Luke was willing to be away from the diner for more than one day, let alone Thanksgiving. Maybe getting back with Lorelai after Rory’s graduation had changed his outlook on life a bit.

She uttered a small sigh as she dried yet another dish, stressing herself out with the storm of thoughts raging in her head. A throb was starting behind her eyes.

“What’s up?” Jess asked, handing her another plate, his hands reddish and dripping from the hot water.

Ella shook her head slightly. “Nothing. Doesn’t it just seem a little bourgeois of us to have a set of dishes?”

“I don’t know. I think we’re exempt, considering you got these from your mom, who got them from someone else,” Jess pointed out, his voice light. “Sharing is caring for the proletariat.”

Snickering, she let a small smile cross her lips. “Well, it’ll have to be, considering we’re trying to fit eleven people in a shoebox.”

“It won’t be that bad,” Jess continued, trying to sound reassuring. She had been quiet and fidgety all evening, and he wondered just how wound up about the event she really was. Ella had a tendency to spread herself too thin and regret it when it was already too late.

“Look at you, Mr. Sunshine,” she quipped as she dried the last plate.

Jess shut off the water and watched the soapy foam begin to circle down the drain. He wiped his hands on his jeans, eyeing the tall stack of dishes which sat on Ella’s other side. She was right. Even a chipped set of plates didn’t look quite correct in their faded, out of date kitchen. But he only shrugged off the nerves. They were in for it, and there was nothing they could do about it. He came to stand in between Ella’s legs. She brought her arms to rest on his shoulders as he shifted closer.

“I’m working on my positive outlook.”

She snorted a laugh. “Good luck.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Well, that wasn’t very convincing.”

“I just don’t know if I’d be able to handle you waking up to a motivational tape every morning,” she said, shrugging.

Jess smirked. “That’s cute. But it’s not 1985 anymore. It would be a motivational CD, at least.”

“Maybe you could start with reading that self-help book again?” she suggested, teasing. “Maybe Luke could bring it up for you on Wednesday?”

“Touché,” he replied.

“Hey,” she began, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, “I kinda like that you read that book.”

He scoffed. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said, searching his face for a moment. “Just seems exactly like something you would do...in a good way. Are you sure you’re okay with seeing your mom and everything?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I promise,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Okay. But just tell me if you’re not okay. I can kick them out without a second thought,” she said with mock gravity. “There’s a reason I was Luke’s favorite waitress.”

Jess chuckled. “Good to know.”

Then, she took a deep, tired breath. Tilting his head at her, he noticed the constant tinge of pink on her cheeks, and the way she seemed to sit as though the weight of the world was on her limbs.

“You okay, Stevens?” he asked.

“Other than the sense of impending doom...yeah, I’d say I’m doing alright,” she said.

Furrowing his brows, he brought the back of one hand to her cheek.

She groaned in annoyance at his needless concern. “You can’t get all Mother Hen on me now, Mariano. We’ve got pies to bake and a turkey to roast.”

“Elle, if-”

“I’m fine, Jess,” she continued, swatting his hand away when he attempted to move it to her forehead. “It’s just PMS. I have cramps, too. Don’t worry about it.”

After a moment, he finally managed an unconvinced: “Okay.”

.   .   .

Wednesday afternoon brought flurries of snow in stray showers throughout the day. A crisp, biting wind blew through the Philadelphia air, but it still felt a bit warmer than Connecticut to Lorelai. She could already smell the fragrance of pie as they approached the door of Jess and Ella’s apartment. It was odd, to say the least, standing in the dingy, grayish hallway of the building in front of the door, adorned with a rusty ‘7.’ A flash of memory crossed her mind, sitting in the living room of her home, braiding Ella’s hair. She’d warned Ella back then not to get involved with Jess, told her he was trouble. Sometimes, when she heard through the Lane grapevine about fights the two had, Lorelai wondered if she should have done more to protect Ella. She remembered nights comforting her on the couch after her mother died, feeling helpless and unable to get Ella to work through her emotions. Often, Ella would just sit there staring at the television screen, with the same glazed expression no matter what they were watching. Even after Rory fell asleep, Lorelai would stay up with her. Just to be there.

She knew what it was to be alone at such a young age. And she knew what it was to fall for a boy who didn’t deserve you just to escape the isolation. Sometimes, Ella reminded her more of herself than even Rory. But Rory had been on her mind every waking second in those days. And she had, somehow, let Ella slip through the cracks. Go on a rocky path with Jess. Not that it hadn’t turned out alright in the end. Even Luke approved, despite how against it all he had been at first. But Lorelai was still unsure of Jess, even after so many years. She was civil when they crossed paths, but actually spending a day inside the home Ella shared with him was a different matter entirely. All she’d ever seen of him were the angriest, nastiest moments. She didn’t like the idea of Ella having to weather such a storm for the rest of her life, simply because she and Jess had been together for so long.

“You gonna knock, or what?” Luke asked, his wide, expectant eyes flicking between the door and Lorelai. His hands were full of the sides he’d made the day before. One tupperware with garlic mashed potatoes, the other with glazed carrots; he knew how much Ella liked them. She’d always taken the leftovers from the diner when they were offered.

Lorelai nodded. “Yes. Just preparing myself to right walk into a John Hughes movie.”

“I told you, Lorelai,” Luke said gruffly, rolling his eyes. “He’s changed. They both have.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Well, you’re getting the chance to. Just please knock on the damn door before my arms give out,” Luke said.

Lorelai scoffed, then raised a gloved hand and knocked. She was surprised how quickly Jess came to greet them, a thin smile on his face as he took their coats and the tupperwares from Luke. He seemed rushed, and there was a pink, checkered apron tied around his hips. It stood out against his otherwise all-black t-shirt and jeans ensemble. She was surprised to see a respectable haircut on his head.

“Hey. Make yourself at home. I gotta make sure the sugar doesn’t burn,” he said, then hurried back into the kitchen as they took off their shoes.

“Thanks,” Lorelai muttered, looking around the place.

It was surprisingly cozy, homey, considering the run-down state of the building. There were a few throw blankets draped over the back of the couch, and cacti planted in small pots on one of the end tables near the sliding glass door. Through it, she could see two mismatched armchairs next to each other on the tiny balcony. Art lined the walls. A few posters, famous photography, paintings and drawings Lorelai could recognize as Ella’s from their mixture of horror and botanicals. Stepping into the living room as Luke immediately offered to help Jess, she spotted a couple pictures in small frames, sitting on the end table sans cacti.

In one, Ella sat on Jess’s lap inside what looked to be a dive bar. Ella’s left arm was hooked around the back of Jess’s neck, and she used her free hand to gesture. Her lips were curling up at the edges as she spoke some word frozen in time. Jess had his head thrown back in laughter at whatever Ella had said. The sight made Lorelai’s eyebrows raise just a touch. She didn’t think she had ever heard Jess truly laugh at anything. The next picture saw Ella and Jess together in a train seat, the scenery passing them by through a small window. They were both asleep, Ella’s head on Jess’s shoulder, and Jess’s head on top of Ella’s. In another, just Ella was in the shot. She was glancing at the camera, not quite smiling but looking serene as she sat on a beach towel, the waves captured in mid-crash behind her. Still, Lorelai’s surprise grew. Ella hated the ocean.

“Nice apron, by the way,” Luke said, smirking at Jess as he rounded the corner to take a seat at the island.

Jess gave a sardonic grin in response, looking down at himself and blushing. “Thanks. Eleanor said it wouldn’t really feel like a pie day without it.”

“Oh, God, the pie days,” Lorelai piped up, groaning fondly at the memory. She came over to take the stool next to Luke. She had to admit, watching Jess stir a pot on the stove in a pink apron like a portrait of Donna Reed made a giggle rise in her throat. “I don’t miss those.”

“You weren’t the one she was waking up before the sunrise to get inside and use your oven because hers didn’t have convection!” Luke argued.

Lorelai snorted. “No, but I was the one who had to hear you rant about it before you gave me my morning coffee.”

“Need I remind you all that we always sold every slice?” Ella chimed in, emerging from the bedroom.

Lorelai smiled as she swiveled around on the stool. Ella wasn’t wearing any makeup and she was dressed in a large flannel and leggings. Her hair was messy and down. Maybe her style had changed since the grunge-goth diner phase.

“Hey! I told you to stay in bed!” Jess said, raising his eyebrows and pointing a wooden spoon at Ella from the kitchen.

Ella rolled her eyes, going over and giving Lorelai and Luke hugs of greeting. “Why would I stay in bed when there’s so much excitement out here?”

She waltzed into the kitchen next to Jess, eyes roaming over the mess of flour and spices and bowls and pie tins he had laid out next to the stove. She could tell by the smell of the apartment the apple was currently in the oven. It looked like he was working on the pecan next.

“Maybe because you just got your appendix taken out, like, twelve hours ago?” Jess said emphatically, eyes widening at her.

“What?” Luke asked.

“Is that why Jess is doing his Leave it to Beaver routine? I thought he was filling in because you were getting ready,” Lorelai said, a startled lilt in her tone. “But instead you just got your organs rearranged?”

“I had a minor surgery and I’m fine now,” Ella said, casual and content. The medicine they’d given her at the hospital hadn’t quite worn off yet, but she had been high around parental figures more than once. She could hold her own. She could even ignore the troubling notions about gender roles deeply ingrained in Lorelai’s comment, in the spirit of keeping arguments to a minimum. She glanced at the mixture Jess was beginning in the big blue bowl. “Just make sure to-”

“I’m following the recipes you gave me,” Jess cut in defensively. “If you’re not gonna stay in bed like you should, can you at least sit down and not backseat bake?”

Lorelai gave the two a suspicious glance. There was the bite in Jess’s voice. The one she could remember so well.

Ella gave a heavy sigh through her nose. Of all the weeks to get appendicitis. Pie-making was probably her favorite part of the winter months. “Fine. But I’m playing my Joni Mitchell record and you can’t complain about it.”

“You’re sick. You’re allowed to play whatever you want. You’re just not allowed to rip your stitches open,” Jess said, shrugging and gaining a teasing tone again. The smirk returned.

“I’m not sick, jackass,” she snapped.

Lorelai pursed her lips, looking over at Luke with eyes full of nostalgia. “Is it just me or have we been transported back to 2002?”

“Seems like it,” Luke mumbled, watching them bicker like they always had.

Before Ella could turn on her heel to leave the kitchen, heading for the record player in the corner of the living room, Jess put down his spoon and stopped her with a: “Hold on.”

“What?” she asked.

He took a couple steps towards her, wiping his hands on the apron before placing his palm on her forehead, feeling how warm it was. Then, he transferred the backs of his fingers to her rosy cheek. “Do you need more Ibuprofen?”

“Not for a couple hours,” she replied, more honest than he was expecting. Banter aside, he could see the fatigue in her glassy eyes. “It’s fine. The doctor said I could have a fever for up to forty-eight hours after surgery.”

“I know. Just checking,” he said, then dropped his hand as she made her way out.

Again, Lorelai’s confusion deepened. She couldn’t hide the crease on her forehead as she furrowed her brows at the interaction. Was Jess really playing nurse? Without complaint?

“I can’t believe you got her to a doctor at all,” Luke said.

Jess scoffed, looking down at the mixture as he stirred. “Only after she passed out on the bathroom floor because her fever was so high.”

“What?!” Luke repeated, instantly panicked.

“Tell them every detail of our lives, why don’t you, chatty Kathy?” Ella grumbled as she put the record on. “I’m fine now.”

A wave of relaxation washed over her as Joni Mitchell’s voice sounded. She went to the couch and threw an old blanket over herself, facing the kitchen.

“My God, Ella. It’s just like that time you broke your arm,” Lorelai said knowingly, going over to join Ella on the couch. She put a comforting hand on Ella’s knee. “Seriously, sweetie, you can’t just expect an organ to abracadabra out of your body.”

“Damn, if only Jess was still doing those magic tricks,” Ella teased in retaliation, narrowing her eyes at Jess as he glared at her through the opening to the kitchen.

Soon, he and Luke were enveloped in their own sporadic, monosyllabic conversation and it made Ella crack a small smile of nostalgia. She raked her hands through her hair as Lorelai began to ask about the apartment, how school was going. It was strange having such a long conversation with her. They hadn’t engaged in their old, pseudo mother-daughter dynamic in a long time. Part of Ella felt as though she were back to being fifteen again. But another part of her felt so elementally different. Able to recognize how much Lorelai had helped her in a way she simply hadn’t been able to comprehend as a teenager. Sure, she was beyond grateful even when she was young. But, now, she wondered if and where she would be if Lorelai hadn’t been there to help her following her mother’s death, or even in her life before. She probably wouldn’t have gotten a job at Luke’s, considering Lorelai was the one who had initially asked Luke to help the Stevens out and give them leftovers every once in a while. Who knew if Ella and Jess would have ever gotten together. The ‘what-ifs’ spinning around in her head only served to fill her heart with warmth for Lorelai. Not only due to the lingering effects of the hospital drugs.

“You said Rory’s still following Obama?” Ella asked, leaning against the side of the couch. She had never had surgery before, and never knew how absolutely exhausted she would be afterwards.

Lorelai nodded, taking a sip of the water Luke had brought her. He was currently fighting to get in the kitchen with Jess, who was still insistent on making the pies entirely by himself.

“Yeah, she’s gonna be with him until the inauguration in January,” Lorelai explained. “She’s Woodward and Bernsteining it up in Chicago right now. They’ve been making stops all around the country for months.”

“Wow,” Ella said, a soft smile still playing on her lips. “She’s really doing it. I can’t even imagine how happy she must be. I mean, I always knew she would. But it’s finally happening.”

“I know. Just a few steps closer to Christian Amanpour,” Lorelai agreed proudly, beaming. “But, hey, you don’t seem to be doing too bad yourself.”

“Yeah. Only a few more months and I’ll finally have that damn degree. The dean’s been talking to me about teaching after I graduate, at least part-time. I don’t know, though. I’m still mulling it over,” Ella said, thinking back to the meetings she’d been having recently. Her own classroom, her own office, her own space to create and guide others to create. And, of course, she could still work making art for Truncheon. The more she thought about it, dreamed about it, and talked it over with Jess, the more she could see herself staying at Penn for longer than just the end of the spring semester.

Lorelai’s face was unreadable for a moment, as she swallowed dryly and looked down into her drink. “And you’re really happy here? This is...this is what you want?”

Ella’s face fell just a touch. She had thought maybe such a question was coming. Lorelai had never loved Jess, never even liked him. Part of Ella thought it was completely understandable. An angry teenager who steals beer and pulls stupid pranks and walks out of town without a word? Dick moves, all of them. But Lorelai had never seen anything else from Jess. She had never made the effort to. She didn’t know him.

As she met Lorelai’s eyes once again, Ella gave a careful, sincere nod. “Really. I get to work on my art every day. I get to collect records and plant cactuses and I get to...I don’t have to live for anyone else. I even get to make pies, when I don’t have nine stitches in my side. I never wanted...I never wanted much else.”

“I know,” Lorelai replied, voice hushed with emotion. She glanced back over at her shoulder at the two men in the kitchen, now begrudgingly tag-teaming the desserts. “And Jess?”

.   .   .

The light was fading to an orangey glow by the time everyone had finished up dessert. Julie, Michael, and the girls had to start the drive to New Britain back almost right after, since Michael had work the following morning. Ella was sad to see them go. They were the ones who made her ache for her mother in a not altogether unpleasant way. The day Ella had lost her mother, Julie had lost her big sister. Forever, the two of them would be linked by the trauma. But not just the trauma. Julie provided a home away from home when Ella needed one. And Ella was a makeshift babysitter whenever Julie called. Julie was the only member of Ella’s family who was truly reliable, the one she could count on. Aside from the family she had found in Philadelphia.

But the apartment was still lively with noise as afternoon slowly melted away into evening. Liz and TJ danced near the kitchen to the sound of the Grateful Dead record on the turntable. Off in their own strange world. Ella didn’t mind. She’d been giving Jess’s hand comforting squeezes all day long, noticing how his shoulders were just a touch more tense and his words came out in short, anxious bursts when he spoke to his mother. He wasn’t completely miserable, though. At least, that was what he told her each time she asked.

Maybe the work of setting up the apartment and serving the food helped, keeping him busy. No matter how many times she tried to help him arrange the card tables for everyone to sit at, or put out the dishes, or clean any noticeably dirty surface, he’d only shrugged her off with some snarky remark and made her sit down. Once Luke and Lorelai got there, she could barely shift in her seat without one of the three pairs of watchful eyes landing on her in concern. It was sweet of them, really, but still made her squirm under their gaze. And pissed that she couldn’t enjoy the first Thanksgiving in the apartment the way she wanted to.

Stomach as full as it could be (the surgery had left her appetite at next to nothing), she sat comfortably on the old couch, Luke and Lorelai in the folding chairs across the card table from her. Luke was busy ranting about how corrupt Black Friday and malls in general were to Lorelai, making a sentimental twinkle spark in Ella’s hazel eyes. She was glad they’d had enough room to fit three tables in the space, with four seats at each. The set-up was arguably too tight, but they’d managed. Erin and Annie had only spilled two cups of milk over the course of the night.

Ella felt a sleepy calm beginning to settle in her body. Through the sliding glass doors, she could see a little sliver of the sunset. Soon, the sky would cloud over and there would be another spray of early snow. The room smelled of wintry spices and hot gravy. Jess still hadn’t reached Luke’s level of perfection, but he had done a pretty damn good job with dinner. And, she had to admit, the pies weren’t too shabby either. It shocked her how seamlessly he had pulled it all off, in his element as he put it together. Though not without a scowl and some huffy breaths.

Ella looked back at Jess, sitting to her left. He held Doula in his arms. She sat on his lap, facing him, as his hands gently supported her back. She was a little over six months old, and almost able to sit up on her own. But, Jess figured it’d be best to keep his hands where they were for some insurance. The baby had somehow tugged the pendant of his necklace out from beneath his shirt, and was alternating between staring at it in wonderment and sucking on it. Jess was having some murmured conversation with her, and she occasionally responded with a gurgle or a coo. Even a laugh when he tickled her stomach.

Ella watched in awe. She remembered how terrified he’d been when he’d first met her nieces, at a Thanksgiving long past. But, now, he handled his sister, along with her nieces, with such ease. He had found a deck of cards for old time’s sake, put on a little magic show for the kids during the lull between dinner and dessert. He’d convinced Annie the smaller half of the wishbone was still lucky when Erin had broken off the bigger half. Just because it didn’t look as big, he said, didn’t mean the magic wasn’t as big. When he realized Ella had caught him saying it, he’d looked away with a scarlet flush and cleared his throat. Sometimes, she could really see the writer in the way he spoke.

“What about Hemingway?” he asked quietly as Doula looked up from the pendant with giant brown eyes and drool dripping down her chin.

Doula gave a little squawk of noise, then swatted one sticky hand up to pat Jess’s face. He scrunched up his nose and chuckled. Then, Doula went back to marveling at the small, circular pendant.

“See?” Jess said, tossing a glance at Ella. He could feel her soft gaze. “Doula likes Hemingway.”

Ella scoffed. “Then her taste is just as bad as her brother’s.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Jess said to the baby, leaning in with a conspiratory whisper. “She likes poetry. Like she can criticize anyone for their taste.”

Narrowing her eyes playfully at Jess, Ella put an arm around his shoulders and inched closer to the two of them. “What about Byron, Doula?”

Doula didn’t look up, instead grabbing the pocket of Jess’s t-shirt in her pudgy fist.

Jess smirked pointedly at Ella.

Ella rolled her eyes. “You’ve taken her to the dark side already.”

“If you mean the right side, then yes,” Jess shot back.

Snorting a laugh, Ella pressed a kiss to Jess’s cheek. Her freckled face became almost wistful. Her raspy whisper near his ear was so sincere it made Jess’s stomach do a flip. “I love you.”

“Love you back,” Jess replied, his voice barely audible over all the others in the room.

She was almost surprised he said anything at all. She hadn’t expected reciprocation with so many people around, and it made a joyful tingling spread from her center out to her fingers and toes. She ran an absent hand through the ends of his hair, a smile painted on her lips.

“Thank you for doing this, Jess,” she said. “You’re the fucking best.”

“Language, Eleanor,” Jess scolded, gesturing playfully to Doula, who still fiddled obliviously with the necklace.

Ella snickered. “Right, sorry, sorry. I’m just...you didn’t have to do all this. I’m sorry about everything. I didn’t mean to go and get appendicitis.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, eyes still trained carefully on the baby in case something unforeseen happened. He was more confident in his childcare abilities than he had once been, but there was still an untrained fear within him that she would tumble straight out of his lap. “Don’t worry, Stevens. I don’t do things I don’t wanna do.”

“Sure you don’t, James Dean,” she teased. “You’re not a good liar.”

“Look who’s talking,” he quipped in return, a smirk still present on his face. “Besides, it was better than scraping plates in the diner all day at Thanksgiving. After doing that a couple years in a row, it’s pretty much nowhere to go but up from now on.”

“It’s true,” she said. “Maybe I should do the dishes, just in case there’s any rogue knives in the sink.”

“Very funny,” he deadpanned, thinking of the scar which had almost completely faded from his left hand. “But I’m still not falling for it. You’re not helping me clean up. You’re gonna watch Carrie and then fall asleep so we don’t have to go back to the hospital with your guts spilling out.”

“I’m not allowed to swear in front of her, but you’re allowed to say stuff like that?” Ella asked, laughing through her words.

“Hey, I don’t make the rules,” Jess joked coolly.

“You really don’t need to clean up by yourself,” Ella continued, not budging. “My stitches aren’t even in the double digits. I could at least help you put the leftovers away.”

“The next time you find me passed out on the bathroom floor with a high fever, then you can tell me all about how much you want to see me cleaning the apartment,” Jess said.

Her smile disappeared. Sighing through her nose in embarrassment, Ella nodded. She swallowed dryly. “Fair enough.”

She couldn’t have been out for more than thirty seconds or a minute. She didn't hit her head or anything. The bathmat had cushioned her fall almost entirely. But she had never passed out before. She’d felt almost as terrified as Jess sounded when he practically carried down to the car and sped to the emergency room. He was right. If the situation were reversed, there was no way in hell he’d be cleaning up alongside her. Especially not a day and a half after surgery. She had to remember the last time she hadn’t been feeling like herself. With a migraine and period cramps right when she felt as though everyone was expecting the most from her. But it was just in her head. It was okay to let go every once in a while. It was okay. She reminded herself that he wasn’t trying to tell her what to do. He was only asking her to take care of herself. That, she could try. She didn’t ever want to put him out like this again. And she didn’t ever want to see the look she had seen on his face when he’d been driving to the hospital again. Not if she could help it.

“But, if it’ll make you feel better, we can have everyone over next weekend and do Thanksgiving food,” Jess suggested. “Chris was pissed he was missing the pies. I don’t think he’d mind if we had a do-over.”

“Yeah, that sounds good, Mariano,” she said. Then, after a moment’s pause: “I’m sorry. I know I can get so wound up.”

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed,” he teased.

“I was just excited for my pies,” she admitted. “But, just for the record, you did a kickass job with them. Sorry I was freaking out.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “So, you’re not a good patient. Who cares? I was excited for your pies too. Just please don’t make rhubarb. All the rhubarb makes me think about is Kirk running naked through the town square that time after Christmas.”

And she felt a beaming smile spread over her face as she laughed and gave him a nod of confirmation. She pressed another kiss to his cheek and told him she would make him any pie he wanted. And she felt even more sure of the words she’d spoken to Lorelai the day before. Lorelai had been surprised to hear them, but Ella couldn’t bring herself to be even the least bit shocked as they’d come out of her mouth. She felt it more confidently than she ever had before, seeing him cradle his baby sister in the aftermath of a Thanksgiving he’d put together all by himself, without being asked. Because Jess was Jess. And it was just what he did. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

[mocha-sim]

For a while now I’ve wanted to write out a post concerning where I stand on the whole issue with YanSim and its developer (in short: neutral, leaning heavily towards the negative side, but I like the potential of the story and characters). There are a lot of problems and I really want to throw in my two cents

This might not be necessary, but I need to get it off my chest, and hopefully make some people think about other points of view

Warning: long post ahead

1. Six years and still in development

I can really see both sides here

On one hand, six full years without even one rival - the single most important part of the game - and a game still full of placeholder assets, and terrible code on top of that, is pathetic

On the other hand, Yandev is working with only a small team of volunteers and himself, who (no matter what he claims) knows very little about game development (from what i’ve seen, he’s made one before, but it looks like a very small-scale and basic fighting game, unlike YanSim which is much more large-scale and has a lot of features)

Professional game teams do have full, high-quality games made in less than six years, but that time is also a product of game company employees being extremely overworked. Lately I’ve seen a lot more people talking about this issue, which is good, but isn’t it hypocritical to not also apply that logic to Yandev?

Again, though, I’m not sure how much time he spends actually working on the game - to me, it seems like he spends a lot of time on discord, reddit, etc. even if he does only stream for a few hours every night. Maybe the “harassment” that’s “slowing down game development” wouldn’t be such an issue if he didn’t spend so much time online interacting with these people?

2. The writing and characters

I’m not a huge fan of how the game’s story is handled, either

I don’t think it’s 100% fair to cast a final judgement with the game the way it is now - Osana not being out is in no way a good thing, but it also means that there hasn’t really been any opportunity for story or character development yet, especially for the rivals. That being said:

I feel like there’s a lot of wasted potential with characters’ individual stories and with the game’s story as a whole, like the “Aishi curse” - I just can’t think of many good stories with a main character who’s basically an empty husk. If Ayano had emotions from the beginning, and actually had to struggle with them, she could be a much more interesting character. There doesn’t even need to be a magical curse for it to run in the family - the way children are raised has a serious impact on the person they grow into. If Ayano is raised by a crazy, abusive stalker of a mother, she may well turn into the same thing.

Taro, too - he has so many contradicting character traits. He yells at Ayano for “scaring him” when she’s carrying a box cutter or laughing, but has the courage to run right up to a murderer and take off their mask?? He doesn’t care about reputations for Osoro or Oka, but won’t love Ayano if her reputation drops too low?? We’re told that he’s “friendly and respectful”, but we’re never shown that part of his personality. On top of that, we’re not really given a reason to like or pursue him as the goal of the game - when he’s not interacting with Girl of the Week, he doesn’t really do anything except sit by the fountain and read. I feel as though Taro should have a routine that involves interacting with other characters and gives us more of a feel for the personality we’re told he’s supposed to have

Raibaru as a whole makes no sense and feels like a satellite character to Osana. In Osana’s shoes, I would want to have a word with her about personal space. There’s not a lot to say about her aside from that, because... she doesn’t really do anything except follow Osana around all day and shut down the player’s attempts to kill her. She feels more like a soulless obstacle than a character

I think there should be more true pacifist options than just matchmaking - even the befriending elimination route will, in Yandev’s own words, involve someone getting hurt. If we’re supposed to have a choice on whether or not to hurt and kill people, there should be more variety in our options

3. The game’s code sucks/it’s poorly-optimized

Yeah.

I don’t know much about coding but the amount of awkward stretching/bending limbs on corpses, clipping through walls, low fps, etc. makes this obvious. It was definitely a bad move on Yandev’s part to start a project like this without at least taking a coding/game development class or something

I think the best course of action for Yandev would be to get a professional programmer on board after Osana is released and spend a few months fixing the game’s code before he starts work on the next rival

4. The character models are just stolen Unity models

They are just unity models, but not “stolen” at all - YanDev paid for them.

That being said, they’re sort of ugly and inexpressive, and personally i’m hoping they get replaced soon

5. The characters are all minors

They’re not. It’s in flashing red letters on the screen when you open the game. I can’t help but feel like the reason people keep insisting that the characters are minors is so that they can feel like heroes for defending them or something

It doesn’t make a lot of logical sense, but there’s still plenty of time for this to be fixed. I think it was recently confirmed that Akademi is called an “academy” now and won’t be referred to as a high school again

Imo YanDev should just change it to a post-secondary school, since that’s probably the most seamless way for all the characters to be adults

One last thing I want to say on this is that, when it gets brought up, I often see people use the excuse “the age of consent in Japan is 13″. 1: it isn’t - the Japanese government lets each prefecture decide its own age of consent, but 13 is the minimum. As far as I know, no prefecture has set it below 16. 2: even if 13 was the age of consent, that doesn’t mean we should accept and defend it as “part of a different culture”. It’s still pedophilia. 3: Japanese people actively protest against things like this

6. The uniforms are middle-school uniforms/don’t look like they belong in a prestigious school

Yeah

However there are multiple uniform options, and it looks like the default uniforms will be completely changed in the final game

7. Panty shots

YanSim is an 18+ game, but there is such a thing as too far

I’ve seen people who tolerate it, but I haven’t seen a single person who actively likes the panty shots and would complain if they were removed. Imo the part that makes this bad is the fact that we, the player, actively have to point our camera up a girl’s skirt and take a photo of her underwear with it being in full view; the whole way this works makes it obvious that the feature was put in there for titillation more than anything else, and it just feels uncomfortable. If it were more like Uekiya’s key-stealing minigame where all we have to do is push a few buttons, the whole gross/uncomfortable aspect could be taken away and a lot of people would probably be fine with it

It would also be better to replace it with an expanded version of the phone-stealing feature: this would let the player get “points” for students of both genders, plus it would still make sense to gain more points for certain students, like the student council or the bullies. Maybe you could even steal teachers’ phones under certain circumstances?

8. YanDev is homophobic

Again not too sure on this one

Iirc, most of the comments people bring up on this are from years ago when he still went by EvaXephon

But speaking as a wlw, I think some of the ways I’ve seen him talk about f/f relationships are pretty creepy. And on top of that, he seems to be considering adding a “female senpai” option to the game, but no male player character? (though i guess i can see the point of view that a male mc would need a lot more new voice lines, animations, etc. while the senpai follows a mostly fixed routine and would only need so many. still, it seems wrong to have one without the other). I hope I’m wrong about this but his support of the LGBT community seems mostly focused on the L and more for his own entertainment than any actual support

9. YanDev is making more money than he should (and handles it poorly)

His Patreon may be dropping, but his YouTube channel is raking in even more money with 2M+ subscribers, and he’s making even more money from things like merch and donations... all while apparently still living with his parents (which i don’t find hard to believe). He’s also apparently bought 2 switches and a sex doll instead of using the money to hire the help he desperately needs with his game

Assuming he really does still live with his parents, I fully support the petition to get his Patreon suspended until he at least finishes Osana. Most game devs don’t make any money off of their games until they’ve finished it completely

10. YanDev wrote rape fanfics

So I did briefly check his old ffn profile some time ago, and as far as I could see everything had the proper ratings and warnings

Tagging/warning/rating is a fanfic author’s only responsibility to you. You make the choice on whether or not to read it. If everything is appropriately tagged and you read it anyway, that’s on you, not the author. If you are mature enough to be on the internet unsupervised, then you are mature enough to curate your own experience.

Fiction is the place to explore controversial themes and topics. It doesn’t mean in any way that a content creator would condone the things they write about in real life

11. YanDev steals art/assets

He does, and still hasn’t apologized for the DLC rivals thing. In fact he made a post defending himself for it, and even compared himself to Andy Warhol in the process (lol)

I’m not sure but I think I heard something recently about him continuing to do this type of thing (the grass, etc.). In which case we should continue to put pressure on him until he credits the creators of whatever art/assets he stole. Art theft is inexcusable

12. The fanbase is mostly kids

This is unfortunately true, and it’s a big problem (i’ve had to deal with it myself on my youtube channel)

However I would personally say that this problem is outside of YanDev’s control. Kids seem to be drawn to edgy/violent things, or things they shouldn’t be allowed to see (just look at Call of Duty). I put the blame for this on the parents who aren’t monitoring their kids’ computer activities. As for YanDev, he’s not a babysitter and it’s not his responsibility to censor his content for kids who shouldn’t be viewing it in the first place

Underage or not though, he should really avoid calling his fans things like “fuck kittens”. Even from the perspective of an adult that’s super creepy to hear

13. The character designs suck

Some are alright, others are absolutely awful

I think that, in a game built on anime tropes, characters should be allowed to have unnaturally-coloured hair. I mean, a lot of characters in anime do have weird hair that you wouldn’t see in real life (seemingly without any dye), and it can add a lot of personality to their designs

But some YanSim characters push that too far. The science club is the worst of the worst imo, despite being otherwise one of my favourite clubs. The neon streaks are ugly, and what’s up with the visors? Why are they allowed to wear those outside of club time? Why do they wear them during club time, as opposed to actual goggles or something? (i have this issue with a lot of club accessories, imo the accessories are unnecessary in the first place)

The bullies and the light music club also take things too far. Their designs are crowded, hard to look at, and out-of-place. Nothing against characters with multi-coloured hair, but there’s a time and a place and a “prestigious” school setting isn’t it

(also, slightly off-topic, but why does almost every “intended couple” look like they could be siblings?)

I could probably make a whole separate post on the character designs in YS, but I’ll save that for another day. (i’m just very passionate about character design)

14. YanDev has collaborated with porn games 3 times now

Once I could overlook (after all, the characters are 18+ and YS is already not for kids) but a third time? Seriously? And so soon after the last one?

Not only do I have mixed feelings about Yandev doing crossovers when his game isn’t even in the demo stage yet, isn’t this game supposed to be taken seriously as a horror game? I can’t think of a single other horror game that has willingly put its characters in porn.

Also I can’t help noticing that he advertises the porn game crossovers a lot more than he did with that one Dark Deception crossover. Did he ever even mention that one? I only ever saw it on the Dark Deception Twitter

15. YanDev is rude to his fans

I don’t have a lot to say against this one. As far as I’ve seen, he is, and he doesn’t take criticism well at all (just look at the subreddit - yes, a lot of the things that were removed deserved it (unfunny cum chalice jokes, etc.) but there have also been completely innocent questions, fanarts, jokes, and fanfics that have been removed. Not to mention mods going through peoples’ post history and banning them for being active in r/Osana. Both he and his mod team seem insanely paranoid)

I think he’s going to have to grow a thicker skin and stop censoring critiques if he wants to get anywhere with this game. Not just fans who bring up tiny details that might need changing, but also big, glaring issues like the code and character designs and such. He also doesn’t seem that professional for a game developer who wants to be taken seriously

That being said, if you’re the type to spam the discord server/subreddit/fan communities who have nothing to do with Yandev like the amino, you deserved that ban

16. YanDev defends pedophiles/the “sex license” thing

“No adult ever has any excuse to do anything sexual with a child. As soon as you touch a kid, you have crossed the line from being someone with a mental disorder to being the worst scum imaginable. Having a mental illness is involuntary, but touching a kid is a choice. If you have a mental illness, I feel bad for you. If you violate a child, I feel disgust and contempt for you, and I think you deserve the death penalty.” -From YanDev himself on this page

The sex license thing is also debunked on the same page: the whole conversation was taken out of context and the hypothetical “license” was supposed to be something that only an adult could meet the requirements for

17. “Corona-chan”

This was a really insensitive move to make in the middle of a pandemic, and I agree that the design was racist

However, YanDev listened to the fans’ complaints and removed the easter egg a day later, plus gave an apology. I think that this was the best thing he could do in that scenario and idk what else people are expecting him to do about it

18. YanDev’s general portrayal of high schoolers

Honestly, it’s not 100% realistic (especially in some of the dialogue. you know what i’m talking about)

I’m surprised that more students don’t seem to have friends outside of their clubs. It seems like all the students mostly stick within their club/group - walking to school together, spending their breaks together, etc. A lot of the ways the characters behave are very robotic, like walking in a perfectly straight line everywhere they go

That being said, a lot of the things i’ve seen criticized in regards to this are not part of the problem. By the time you’re in high school, you’ve probably hit puberty. It doesn’t make a character automatically sexualized if they have bigger breasts (though some designs in the game are over-sexualized, like a few certain staff members)

19. Muja, Mida, and Hanako

Let’s start with Hanako: Yandev has already said that she’s not romantically interested in her brother, she’s just insanely clingy and doesn’t want him to get a girlfriend out of fear that he’ll forget about her. If you still insist that she’s in love with Taro, then that’s on you

Muja and Mida I have mixed feelings on.

If every student is 18 or older, meaning that the first-years are 18, that makes Taro, a third-year, 20-21 years old. If Mida and Muja are in their early 20s as Yandev has said, that means that the age gap isn’t an issue. However, it’s still wrong for a teacher or a nurse to pursue their student/patient

I don’t think Yandev should need to spell out “hey, Mida and Muja are not good people” in flashing neon signs. The game is rated M and anyone who’s old enough to play it should be able to understand that without it being said. If you need morality in fiction spoon-fed to you, you probably shouldn’t be watching/reading/playing anything rated above PG

On the other hand, YanDev has a nasty habit of making these things into a joke, which is really insensitive and creepy. Like saying that Mida’s favourite food is “the spit of a younger man” (yikes), that she’s tried to seduce her own students 69 times (haha 69 so funney right guys XD), or that whole confession scene mess. It’s less of a problem with Muja, but it’s still there. As much as the audience shouldn’t need everything served to them on a silver platter, issues like these should still be treated with respect, not made into gags

20. Yandev wastes time on “Easter eggs”

I have to agree that he does spend time implementing unnecessary things sometimes (like the abc challenge), but as far as I know the Easter eggs are what he does in his spare time while waiting for assets from volunteers. However: snap mode, which was hyped up for years, turned out to be a flop with zero purpose, disappointing a good portion of the fanbase.

21. Love Letter

So far I’m really liking the look of this game: I like the models and the school environment they’ve shown, and it seems like they’re doing a lot of things in better or more interesting ways than YanDev, like not outright telling us who the rivals are. I don’t think it’s fair to accuse them of “stealing” anything, when it seems like most of the assets the games have in common are the things they bought from the Unity store (Love Letter even changed the base Unity model to have a more appealing look)

I'm glad to see that they actually listened to criticism from fans on things like Setsuna’s design (I love her newest look and I hope it’s the final one). From design alone she’s already a more interesting protagonist, and she looks like the sort of character you’d actually enjoy playing as

Not sure I totally buy the claim that it was all done in two weeks, but even if it was over the span of months, that’s still miles better than YanSim’s six years

Knowing that Dr. Apeis has already ditched one project I’m staying open to new information on this, but as of right now I’m looking forward to playing the demo!

Overall: A lot of the hate against the game and the dev are unnecessary, but some is justified and we shouldn’t blindly defend everything he does (seriously, you can admit that the character designs are shit. no one is going to stone you for it).  There are a lot of improvements Dev could make, both on the game and on his behaviour towards fans.

I think that the biggest improvement would be for the game to just stop taking itself so seriously. At this point, it’s so full of memes, cringy google translate names, excessive edginess, and gags that it may as well just be a fun ridiculous anime game instead of a serious horror game. I feel like taking this approach could make it more successful (plus, it doesn’t really have a lot of horror elements aside from the gore)

There are a lot of cases of people taking things too far. Like spamming YanDev with explicit gore/animal abuse, trying to swat him, spamming volunteers with weird porn, trying to hack into volunteers’ accounts (including bank accounts), etc. That is going way too far, no matter how awful or pathetic you think a person is. If you are doing these kinds of things, you are doing more harm than Dev or his volunteers

Attacking YanDev’s appearance is unnecessary and not related to his behaviour or skills. Same with the chalice memes

However, I’ve seen a lot of YanDev’s defenders lashing out against “gremlins”, lumping all of them in with the kinds of people who do these things. If you check r/Osana, you’ll see that most if not all of the people there condemn this behaviour: the gore and porn spammers are a loud minority (and i’m willing to bet most of them are the basement-dwelling losers from KiwiFarms and 4Chan)

Attacking and/or spamming fans who are just trying to enjoy the game is also unnecessary. Someone liking a video game you don’t like is not doing you any harm. Be mature and move on

I’m not sure if some of what I’ve said above is 100% accurate so if anyone actually read this and has evidence against it then feel free to add

I think that’s about all I have to say on that. Again, i don’t know if it will change anything in the fandom but i really just wanted to get this off my chest

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

pinky and the brain - s1e5a: where no mouse has gone before

the blood test went okay! i’m still fucking exhausted but i’m pulling through. hopefully when the results come through it’ll be something tame yet treatable.

episode summary: upon learning of a human plot to communicate with aliens from a nearby planet, brain attempts to convince them that he is earth’s leader.

the rundown:

the mice are floating around.

did i need to cap all of those images? no. i probably only needed the last one, honestly. was it funnier? absolutely. so that’s what y’all get.

brain is upside down now.

“look, brain!” cries pinky. “i’m experiencing total weightlessness!”

bonk.

they’re in an anti gravity chamber, for reasons that have not been elaborated upon. they just sort of merrily bump into each other in there until someone lets them out.

bonk.

bonk.

ow. if pinky could die, that would probably be it for his spine. brain looks more like his alarm has just gone off and he really doesn’t want to get up, but god damn it, he has a 9am on tuesdays.

gromp.

“these experiments are degrading.”

“narf! i think they’re fun, brain! i can’t wait for the next ride!”

“that is because you have no dignity.”

but it’s okay. this man in terrifying sunglasses has come to rescue the boys. air mice nyoom is over.

as he takes them back to wherever, brain spots something of interest.

IT’S A DVD. HOW ANTIQUATED. but no, he’s more concerned about whatever it is this dude is polishing.

“did you see that plaque, pinky?” brain asks, and then does... this. for some reason. i don’t know. maybe i paused at a weird time. this is, uh, not a good moment, brain. there are people here.

“poit. he really ought to floss more often.”

this, at the very least, is enough to get brain to stick his ass out slightly less, and as they get lowered into fun little chairs,

he explains to pinky that the plaque "displays representations of man, woman, and the rudiments of earth’s most sophisticated science.”

see! there are the sciences right there. all sciences can be narrowed down to a bunch of dots and pi.

so then they get put in the promare spinny machine for their crimes.

sunglasses man leaves. he has done his duty for bill and country.

completely unbothered by the prospect of fueling the promepolis warp drive, brain explains to pinky that said plaque is being “sent on a probe to the outermost extremities of the galaxy, along with a disk showing earth’s arts and music.” unfortunately, this show is set in the 90s, so it’s a miracle this episode actually happened and the aliens didn’t just listen to a couple seconds of bjork and then decide to call the whole thing off.

meanwhile, the scientist turns the spinny mode up a bit.

“if the aliens look upon it, they will learn everything they need to know about the dominant species on earth!”

“naaarf. too bad there isn’t a picture of you on there, brain!”

“exactly,” says brain, who can somehow still manage a coherent sentence. “are you pondering what i’m pondering?”

“i think so, brain! but pants with horizontal stripes make me look chubby!”

awful. brain somehow manages to convey that if he puts a picture of himself on the plaque, then the aliens will recognise him as earth’s leader.

unfortunately, most of his lower half appears to be significantly broken, so he may need some assistance.

the episode cuts straight from spinny machine to the next scene, so i’m not entirely sure how long afterwards it takes place. i assume at the very least they both had a nap first, but anyway, now the mice are here and significantly less broken, and brain is standing in front of an engraving of himself and saying voila.

“voila.”

not only has he carved himself into the plaque, he’s also carved the human figures out entirely. impressive stuff, considering that tool is bigger than him.

pinky thinks it’s marvellous!

“but who is it?”

bonk.

it gets worse. brain explains that he has “slightly altered the great art masterpieces” to enhance his own importance as earth’s leader.

slightly.

“oh, this is my favourite one, brain!”

“......how did that get in there.”

undeterred, brain switches over to some samples of The World’s Great Works Of Classical Music.

BRAIN’S THE LEADEEEEEEEEEEER BRAIN’S THE LEAAAADEEEEER

he’s even included some examples of america’s contribution to the fine arts!

ROCK. AND ROLL.

A WOP BOP A LOO BOP A LOP BAM BRAIN. let it be known that little richard was actually white and dubiously canadian.

/s

anyway brain wants them to swap his disk and plaque with the real disk and plaque, so they set off to do that.

“but brain, what about ballet? aren’t you going to give them a sample of the ballet?”

“the aliens aren’t going to care about ballet, pinky.”

or perhaps he was just too embarrassed to edit his face onto the ballets russe. it’s okay brain. we love you even if your short legs make your sissones lackluster.

time for Big Rocket.

they’re stopped at the gates, of course.

fear not! it’s only famous jet propulsion scientist wernher von brain from the braun institute in baun.

and wernher von pinky!!! from the mink institute in pink!!!

brain looks at pinky like he’s just said something stupid, and chooses to ignore the fact that wernher van braun had been dead twenty years before this cartoon takes place. very smart, brain. much genius.

still, it works on this guy.

“from now on, pinky, whatever anyone asks you, just say ‘ja’ or ‘nein’.”

BUT NEVER MIND THAT.

IT’S TIME FOR BIG ROCKET.

brain screws his custom Mouse Plaque onto the base of the rocket. he also sticks his ass out again as he does it, because he is clearly having one of those days.

pinky watches as the countdown progresses slowly, from ten-nine-eight-seven-six-five-four-three-stand by for emission.

“did you hear the countdown, pinky?”

“ja!”

“what number are they down to?”

“nien!”

“nine???”

“ja!”

“excellent, plenty of time.”

<does a gay little run into the distance>

(he did not, in fact, have plenty of time.)

“didn’t you tell me they were down to nine, pinky?”

“ja! nien! poit!”

there’s your answer, i guess.

but it’s fine! brain’s picture is on the rocket, as well as his cultural erasure of little richard, so surely nothing can go wrong now!

look at it nyooming around in space. how cute.

conclusion:

ALIENS LAND ON EARTH.

news man witters on about this being the GREATEST MOMENT IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD as various politicians and news organisations congregate to say hi to the aliens. they are from firnobulax, and they want to meet earth’s leader!

here they come now!

squelch.

the aliens politely request to be taken to earth’s leader.

“he means me,” says bill, wriggling himself to the front of the line. “i can feel his pain.”

):

the other world leaders don’t seem too sure about this.

including... this guy. who is definitely supposed to be british (”oh, really, old chap, i think he means me”) but i. definitely do not recognise him. who are you??? what did you do to the queen??????? give liz back right now you bureaucrat, or the entirety of england will throw hands.

the aliens care not for this.

so they kind of explode everyone in the venue, as you do.

the politicians watch in horror as the aliens fly right past them, to this innocent looking soap box right at the back.

the inhabitants of which came prepared. very cute.

“you are the earth creature known as. brain?”

“yes!”

“i am the leader of this planet!! ruler of all i survey!!!!!”

good for you! (:

“narf. and he really isn’t just a laboratory mouse trying to take over the world.”

brain will handle this from here, thank you.

the aliens are satisfied, at least. they give pinky a little pat on the head for all his narfs (he speaks excellent firnobulax, don’t you know, narf poit egad) and take the mice away to CELEBRATE THEIR GLORY.

it doesn’t look very comfortable, but neither of them seem to mind.

“at last, pinky! we are finally appreciated!”

“what does it feel like..........”

anyway, the spaceship full of mice flies away. brain regails the firnobulaxians with tales of how he invented electricity.

“but brain. wasn’t that ben franklin?”

bonk.

brain realises mid bonk that this probably looks very suspicious, so he convinces the aliens that this is a gesture of respect on earth.

it goes about as well as one would think it would.

“you mean all those years, you were just showing me respect! i’m touched!”

“yes, you certainly are.”

luckily, they make it back to firnobulax without too much trouble.

there’s a parade and everything. the crowd cheers “narf! poit! brain!” as they’re carried through the street, which is probably a sequence of words that brain is very used to hearing.

i don’t know what these things are, but they’re scary.

they make it to brain’s “domicile” soon enough, which is a big fancy room with a chair in it.

there’s only one chair, which is sad, but hopefully that can be mitigated. brain settles himself down triumphantly.

“from now on, pinky,” he says, “everything will be different.”

which is a good time for bars to fall down over one of the windows.

donk.

the mice look on, horrified,

as it continues around the rest of the room.

and the door, too, for good measure.

“egad, brain!” cries pinky. “they’ve locked us in!”

“yes, pinky.”

“yes.”

awww. ):

as pinky attempts to break the bars, brain wanders off back to his little chair, incredibly despondantly.

he has to prepare for tomorrow night.

“why, brain? what are we going to do tomorrow night?”

“same thing we do every night, pinky. try to take over firnobulax.”

hmmmmm.

man. i just. the plan actually worked, is the thing. it did exactly what brain intended it to. and how could he have known that firnobulax wanted to kidnap the leader of earth for scientific purposes? maybe if they’d been upfront with their intent, we would have had an excuse to send some dictators into space. go figure.

but never mind.

brain: 6 pinky: 7 outside influence: 13

“ooooo, i don’t know, brain. i once saw a group of japanese tourists absolutely melt at the final scene of giselle.”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 2

A wise man once packed up his whole life and moved to the country to escape people. That man lived happily, with his cat, his ford bronco, and high speed internet. That man didn’t entertain the notions of his two best friends, nor did he spend the night trapped at what had to be the weirdest bachelor party known to mankind. Who in their right mind decided to have a bachelors party in a haunted hospital? Rocking up in a party bus, the stench of cheap booze wafted from their sweaty skin, there were thirteen man sized toddlers to take care of. Pidge and Hunk both wore their regrets on their faces. Lance taking offence when the loud mouth of the group asked Pidge “Who pissed in her fruit loops?”, the man further daring to wag his finger in Pidge’s direction. Stepping between them, Lance knew his type too well. Daddy’s credit card had brought him everything he could ever want and need, other than brain cells. His arrogance was sickly sweet, stinging at Lance’s tongue as he took a calming breath. Vampires born vampires were supposed to have powers, all he had was the iron will of someone who was done with dickheads. Forcing his lips up to expose his teeth, he locked eyes with his target, hand coming up to take the man’s in an overly firm handshake

“Hello, you must be tonight’s tour. We weren’t informed it was a party, or we would have arranged a little entertainment for you all. Now, we do have a few ground rules. First, please don’t touch any of our equipment. It’s all highly calibrated. Secondly, please don’t piss in the hallways. Thirdly, and most importantly, you ever take that tone with my friends, I will break both your finger and your balls. Now, I’m Lance, this is Pidge, and this Hunk. How about we try this again with some manners?”

The man spluttered. His mate coming up to clamp a hand on his shoulder. The moment between them broken, Lance letting the man’s hand drop. He’d never actually hurt a human. He had his own code he lived by, even when he’d mugged he’d never fought back. If anything he’d been more concerned for the people who’d jumped him. A vampires blood was a curse he didn’t wish to spread. No... No, it was much better to turn the other cheek with the physical stuff, then sob it out over a bad rom-com and some ice cream. His Mami would always tell him how proud she was that he didn’t ever let that other side show

“Damn, man! You got told by a kid! Don’t worry, dudes, no trouble here. This dickhead’s...”

Lance blanked their names as fast as possible, fake smile in place as he nodded. His memory was unfairly good. An unwanted steel trap, where he refused to remember the annoyances before him. Maybe he was also jealous... It happened more than he liked to admit. He’d never gotten to be this kind of idiot, he’d learned too young about the things that went bump in the night. He wasn’t allowed the option of ignorance, sometimes things inside niggled at him, reminding him he’d never know nice it must be to be clueless. Ugh. Pidge had two jump scares planned for the group too... He already had Hunk’s heart to worry about, his friend too much of a teddy bear for this cruel world, and Pidge’s shenanigans.

As the drunk party started whooping, walking away from their tour guides to look at the exhibits in the main foyer, Pidge threw her arms around Lance, Lance snapping out his inner mullings as he returned the hug

“I’d forgotten you can be super scary”

Lance snorted, if Pidge thought that was scary, she should have seen of the court cases he’d been through. Nothing major, but enough for people to recognise behind his appearance he held a sharp tongue

“I couldn’t let them pick on my favourite Gremlin. She might go getting ideas of ditching me for them, then what am I going to do?”

“Be useless and hopeless? Barricade yourself at home and cry over the loss of my brilliance?”

“Mmm... all of that. Seriously, I know you can handle yourself, but don’t let people underestimate you”

“I think it was you, that they were underestimating. I thought that guy was seriously going to shit bricks when you shook his hand”

“He would have been cleaning it up with a toothbrush if he had. You ready?”

Pidge looked up at him, flashing him a toothy grin at the thought of the mischief she had planned

“Yeah. Let’s scare some idiots and take their money”

“They didn’t pay up front?”

“Maybe...”

Lance groaned

“Pidge, you can’t go hacking into their bank accounts. That’s not the kind of law I specialise in”

Pushing him away, Pidge pulled a face

“Then what good are you? What’s the point of having a best friend for a lawyer if you won’t defend me?”

Lance raised the back of his hand to his forehead, faking a swoon

“Is that all I am to you? What about my totally radical driving skills?”

“Your car’s as old as I am!”

“You leave her alone. She’s a priceless family heirloom”

“She’s a hunk of shit and you know it”

“You wound me, Pidge. I’m utterly wounded. Hunk, back me up here. Are my skill not the greatest ever?”

Hunk shuffled his feet, his friend having the habit of worrying his two pointers together even during banter like this

“There was that time we got bog-...”

“But did you die?”

“Well, no...”

Lance beamed

“There we go then. Let’s get this show on the road”

Two jump scares, one phone drop, three scoldings for touching, and two and half hours later, they were finally starting to pack up. Pidge could complain all she liked about Lance’s beat up Bronco, but she couldn’t complain over the fact that it had more than enough storage in the back to load all their crap up. Hunk had fretted through the ordeal, while Pidge had grown bolder, she dished out sass like there was no tomorrow leaving Lance in silent stitches. There was something about the way she said things that turned the most mundane of passing comments into an insult. The girl so salty the world was in danger of running out limes and tequila. As Hunk passed him the last of the camera boxes, Pidge reset the alarm system, the tour bus already long gone from the main road. Sighing as he leaned against the side of the car, Hunk was the embodiment of relief

“You okay?”

Hunk nodded as he yawned, Lance felt a kind of parental concern and the urge to send Hunk home to bed. His best friend was normal a night owl, but the weather made it a perfect night for climbing under the covers as the rain pattered on the tin roof

“Want to come back to mine for the night? I’ll drop you back in tomorrow after Pidge has processed the camera footage”

“I don’t know, man. I think I’m going to be out as soon as my head hit the pillow”

“I don’t mind either way, but you know Pidge is going to be calling first thing in morning if you go home now”

Hunk groaned. It wasn’t unusual for Pidge to call any hour she felt like it. More than once Lance had been woken in the wee hours to listen to Pidge rant about some new conspiracy theory. She was worse on road trips, she’d get so into what was going on, she’d literally jump into bed next to you, wake you up, then talk a mile-a-minute about whatever she’d worked out

“I’ll come to yours. Just gotta text the folks and let them know I’ll be staying over”

Hunk’s parents were amazing. Lance instantly fell in love with the whole clan of them. His family was big, but they loved even bigger. Hunk’s mother baked some of the best cookies he’d had in his life, and instantly made him feel welcome when Hunk left him outside the house, having formally forgotten to invite him in. Lance wasn’t sure if he needed an invite to actually enter, but he’d wanted to respect whatever family conditions that came with Hunk having friends over. As for Hunk’s father, the man ran the local automotive shop. Most people took their cars to Platt for servicing, but Lance knew he had to build bridges with the locals if he expected to last in such a small town. That didn’t stop Hunk’s dad for continuing to undercharge him when it came to labour costs, so Lance usually left the man a large tip. Plus, he knew how temperamental his old girl could be. Originally Hunk’s family had been from somewhere else, his parents selling up to move somewhere quite before retirement, or so Hunk said. Lance didn’t like to pry, not when he had a fair idea of how much shit came with a decision like moving. Hunk had finished his senior year, then moved down to Platt for college, before falling in with Pidge. The pair of them were thick as thieves, but went out of their to never make Lance feel discluded. The three of them making up what Pidge liked to call “The Garrison Trio”. A connection like this was dangerous for him, especially given he was less than human, and he’d had no intention of being best friends with anyone when he’d made his move. He couldn’t help but love them as if they were siblings he’d known all his life... unlike his real siblings who were still a little iffy about his vampire status. With all the crap in the media, Lance couldn’t blame them, not when he was supposed to be a blood drinking night stalker. He’d never even fed off an actual real life human, but the stereotype was too ingrained in culture and after the death of his Papi, the only one he really remained close to was his Mami who now lived in an assisted living complex outside of Platt. Before he’d moved, he’d been her “carer” for the five years after his father’s death. His Mami was the one who insisted she go into a home, Lance pleading with her not to, but if there was one thing that ran in their family’s blood, it was stubbornness.

Besides, the home was actually really nice. Mami has plenty of friends there, there were games and social events, outings into Platt out to places like the Zoo and the Aquarium. It wasn’t home like Cuba had been during his childhood, but if it hadn’t been so nice there was no way he would have allowed his mother to stay there. He also had a soft spot for everyone there. They all laughed over “Miriam’s hot grandson”, occasionally he was pinched on the arse or gently flirted with until he couldn’t help but feel his cheeks burning. He loved his Mami, so on weekends when nothing much was happening, he’d take her out for the day driving, wherever she wanted to go. At 82, his Mami was still full of life. Her eyes had always been kind, and her hugs the warmest in the world. No matter how many times he’d broken down over his curse, she’d tell him how much she loved him. Mami didn’t know that most of her living costs came from him. She was a proud woman who wanted him to spend his money on himself, to treat himself right and to be happy, but being with her was what made him happy.

“Dude, you okay there?”

Lance shook his head to clear his thoughts

“Yeah, man. There’s a bottle of Shiraz calling my name”

“Should I be worried?”

Lance chuckled. He couldn’t get drunk the way a human would. Mix in a little blood and then that problem went out the window. Mix in a lot of blood and he’d be recreating far too humiliating memories. Two glasses at night to relax, three if the day was bad. He kept himself in check, not wanting to let himself fall back into wallowing the weirdness of his life

“Only that Pidge is going to make us do this again. I don’t think they appreciated our “razzle-dazzle”

Hunk groaned as his hand went to his chest

“I thought I could do it, man. We knew where the jump scares were and they still scared the bejesus out of me. I love Pidge, but she’s scary”

“That’s because she’s our resident gremlin. I’m more scared of what she’s got planned for the footage of tonight”

“Y-you don’t think we caught an actual ghost on camera... do you?”

Lance played along, teasing his best friend felt a little mean, but seeing they most probably caught nothing but the sounds of the tour he shrugged as he said

“I don’t know... tonight could be the night”

“Boo!”

The ever queen of the jump scare, Pidge cackled as Hunk jumped

“Dude, you should have seen your face”

“Don’t do that! You know I’m naturally jumpy”

Punching Pidge on the shoulder playfully, Pidge laughed harder

“I’m sorry, but I’m not. Are you two losers done yet? The alarms all set and I sent the curators a message to let them know it’s all locked up”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re done. You crashing at mine tonight?”

“Dah. I thought that was the plan all along”

“Then jump in already. Wanna make a stop for snacks on the way?”

The town had two service stations, the trip out to the 24 hour was half an hour out the way, nearly half way to Platt, yet his Mami had always told him that house guests came first

“Can I have a super large raspberry slushy?”

“I don’t know, is it before midnight? I’m not supposed to feed or water you between midnight and dawn, right?”

“For that, I’m having two. Oh, I dibs the front!”

“No fair! I was here first”

“You snooze, you lose, Hunkerino. Besides, Shay might be working”

Hunk blushed hard at the mention of “Shay”. The poor man had been crushing on her so hard that he’d failed to notice she was into him. Every time she’d ask him out, he’d say no as he didn’t want to inconvenience her. His best friend was as dumb as a sack potatoes when it came to getting a clue. Hell, Lance was sure Shay could scrawl her feelings across her face in red marker and Hunk still wouldn’t get the hint.

“She’s a friend, okay”

Pidge bumped her hip against Hunks, her voice sing-song

“A friend you’re too scared to ask for her number”

“I... but... she... I...”

Hunk stumbled over the start of what he wanted to say. The poor dude had it bad. Stepping out the way, Lance pulled the back window down before snapping the trunk door shut. Patting Hunk’s shoulder, he sympathised with his best mate something chronic

“Hunk, she’s into you, buddy. You are the best man that I know. You’ve got a whole lot to offer, and any one would be lucky to have you. I swear man. Cross my heart and hope to die, if I ever tell a lie”

“Not you, too”

“Look, all I’m saying is that from my point of view she seems interested too. I’m not trying to push into something you’re not ready for. I just want you to know I’m there when you are”

Pidge blew a raspberry at him, ruining his attempt to be serious

“You sound like such a dad. I swear you’re like some old fuddy in that body. Hunk, grow some balls and get out there”

“I don’t want to grow balls”

Hunk moaned at his own words. Pidge went into a fresh fit of laughter at his expense. Lance cringed in second hand embarrassment. He couldn’t love the pair of them any more than he did, even if he tried

“For that, Pidge, you’re in the back. Hunk, I’ve got your back, bro”

[script-a-world]

What are your five rules to new authors about world building? I struggle with this, as a minimalist author. And I would love suggestions on how to build a world in as few words as possible, while the description is still efficient and powerful.

Constablewrites:

Teach us about the world through the characters interacting with it. If your characters never interact with it, is it really relevant to your story?

Culture and society all ultimately derives from people--what they know about the world around them, how they survive in their particular environment, how they ensure the survival of future generations, and so on.

Conflict and tension come from limitations. Infinite and/or ill-defined power kills a reader’s emotional investment.

Don’t answer a question we haven’t asked. Context first, then explanation only if necessary.

Your reader will comprehend your world based on what they know of ours.

Personally, I think minimalism can be a good thing! New authors tend to err on the side of waaaaaay too much world building and explanation thereof. The best way to figure out the balance is to read closely. If you’re reading something that makes you feel really present in the scene, pay close attention to how they do that: the details the author chooses, the things they merely suggest or infer, the senses being evoked, and so on. And remember that contemporary literature has to world build just as much as genre stuff does; I’ve spent just as much time on a ranch as I have on Mars, so while I might be bringing more knowledge/assumptions to the table I’m still relying on the writer to make the world come alive.

Brainstormed:

Do you enjoy what you’re making? If not, let the idea lie fallow to be recycled, and ask yourself what would make you enjoy the worldbuilding again. Even if what you’re doing will never show up in your story, it’s still worldbuilding and therefore great. Just prioritize plot-relevant details, and make sure to have fun.

How different would the plot and/or characters be if this detail was changed? This question allows you to figure out the really vital parts of your world and its natural consequences in your story. The details that don’t affect much of your plot/characters are still good, as they add depth, but okay to parse down for a more minimalist perspective.

How far am I willing to ask my readers to suspend their disbelief? Can be asked of specific parts of your world, like magic systems or physics or geographical oddities, or of your setting in general.

Is this self evident? That is, does this part of your worldbuilding become foundational to the plot and/or setting in such a way that the reader understands and extrapolates without ever requiring the dreaded infodump? Not every detail has to be self evident, and in fact I don’t think every detail should be. There’s plenty of things about the real world that I would love to absorb infodumps about, but the way the sun in the sky affects my day to day life requires no context.

Breadth vs. depth, which is more a function of your plot and cast than setting. If your plot follows your characters wandering through a great deal of varying places/cultures/times/etc or a very diverse cast of different races/beliefs/jobs/etc, you’ll need a lot of distinct and interconnected settings with just enough detail to function and stick out as unique in the reader’s mind. Buckling down on a single world/culture/nation/etc to flesh out its complexities and variants will get far deeper into the why’s and how’s of your plot and/or characters, just be careful not to turn it into an encyclopedia instead of a story. (of course, you could do like me and create a lot of breadth and then murder yourself by trying to achieve depth with all of it)

Saphira:

Worldbuilding itself, and setting up the world, comes before the writing in my book. I find that chronic descriptors fall into two categories:

Those who know their world so well that they want to tell EVERYTHING. These I affectionately call the Gushers.

Those who are discovering their world as they write. The world is a mystery to them until the written word tells the writer where they are. These I affectionately call the Explorers.

I suspect you are concerned about being the former. In my gut, however, I suspect you may be the latter. Now there are different rules for each method.

FOR GUSHERS: Use Constablewrite's rules. Those rules underline what's important.

Worried you're still overboard? Count your paragraphs. How many has it been since something happened?

FOR EXPLORERS: Write as normal. Then go over it and look for the things Brainstorm mentions! Highlight them, or copy the stuff on another document.

When you get to rewriting your work, look at your notes and see what you feel is important! You've already explored, so now you can filter.

Worldbuilding in the scale that we know it is relatively new to novel-writing. (Thanks to Sci-Fi and Fantasy authors in the 1950's? Ish? Research it. Cool stuff.) That being said we're already getting really good at it. We've seen the wild phenomenon of cultural diving that Lord of the Rings, Star Trek and Harry Potter have had, and we want to give our readers the same experience!

Though I will note, what draws a reader into the world is the intrigue of the questions they can ask! If we can give our readers just enough information about the world to ask the coolest, deepest questions? We have succeeded.

Tex: I'm not a big fan of generalized advice, especially in regards to "new"... anything. I'm not aware of either your flaws or your strengths, though your use of "minimalist author" intrigues me - what do you consider minimalism? Is it descriptions, is it settings, is it dialogue? Is it something else?

I don't know whether this minimalism is the result of developing your writing voice or the result of underdevelopment in various writing skills, so I hesitate to give any concrete answers. In that respect, I would like to recommend @scriptstructure for the finer points of writing descriptions.

The others look to have covered about everything on this topic, but I would like to reiterate the idea that worldbuilding for the purpose of exposition is heavily dependent upon the plot. Whatever the focus of the plot is, and to some degree that of the characters, is the focus of your worldbuilding.

What's important to your story? Can you remove an element and still make sense? Those are consistently my two biggest guides when worldbuilding because everything outside the immediate needs of the plot are usually extraneous.

Feral: I don’t have rules so much as questions to provide some guidance for new writers getting into worldbuilding.

What quirk of character or plot stands out as being from a society different from my own, and what society would produce this? For a sense of verisimilitude in fantasy and sci-fi, it’s important that the characters not be reproductions of who you would expect to meet in the author’s own society especially when that society does not reflect the author’s own. Dragons, a post-singularity Earth, and a hundred other things that cast the story in a specific genre would create very distinct pressures that would lend themselves to different worldviews, economies, traditions, etc.

Would a particular feature of the world make my character or the plot more interesting? Would it create more problems than it would solve? I always advise against creating a feature of the world that solves your characters’ problems. Features of the world should either a) provide a lovely flavor or b) create obstacles for your characters to overcome or c) both. New writers, particularly those who don’t want too much superfluous flavor might look at Premise Brainstorming, or “In a World Where…” brainstorming to create world ideas that tie directly to the character and/or plot.

Am I avoiding describing something because it is not in my style or doesn’t fit the narrator’s voice? Or am I avoiding describing something because I can’t picture it in my mind or lack the confidence to execute it? This is me all the time. 2 decades of writing, and my first couple drafts are always a little lean on world details because I’m still wrapping my mind around what things really look like and how to take the image in my brain and translate it to the page. It’s ok to take your time getting the world rendered out; that’s what multiple drafts are for.

How have writers I admire and whose writing style matches what I want for myself handled the question of worldbuilding? If you’re not familiar with The City and the City by China Mieville, I strongly recommend checking it out. When I think of so-called minimalist world building, that is what I think of.

Do I know enough about my world to know what is important and what is not important to include? I recommend the Iceberg Principle for newer writers/builders: 90% of the world isn’t gonna make it into the story. So, that 10% better be enough and relevant.

[wolfpawn]

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 21

Story Summary - Based on an idea I had that I submitted to Imagine Loki. Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths.

Chapter Summary -  Loki discusses what Ella told him with his father before he discusses certain topics with her, only to get some truths he's not so sure he can handle.

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“Could you repeat that?” Arden looked at Loki in shock.

“Was I unclear?” Loki smirked.

“How do you know this?” Laufey sat forward and watched his son, highly intrigued by what he told him.

“It appears everyone, you included, underestimated my wife, Father. She is well versed in the goings-on of the Vanir court, and upon my telling her of their recent discussions with us, she was able to inform me of that of which they will most likely wish to acquire and that of which they have that we will wish to obtain.”

“This is your reasoning for speaking more with her? To obtain this information?” Laufey looked at his son with both disappointment and impressed shock.

“No, that was not the reason we ate together. I did that so to spend time with her. I am, of course, supposed to be trying to make amends, but whilst I was informing her of Vanaheim’s recent discussions with us with regards an invitation there, she informed me of what it is that they will most likely wish to get from us.”

“And she told you this, all of her own free will?” Byleistr asked. “I am not sure if I would believe it.”

“Princess Ella does nothing that is not for the betterment of Jotunheim, I would not think it a trick.” Laufey dismissed his oldest son’s thoughts.

“But she is of their line.”

“She is of this line now. How many times in her life do you think she has even been in the company of King Wilheim? She has been on Jotunheim longer than she has ever been in his company, I have little doubt. He cast his own sister to the Aesir king the day Odin Allfather made mention of a possible alliance when she was even younger than her daughter and the Allfather over a millennium older than her. No, I see no familial duty to be held there. The princess does this for us.” Beside him, Arden nodded in agreement. “If the conversation was not even spearheaded by Ella, if she had no previous knowledge of it, it is not premeditated.”

“But didn’t the Allmother send her a letter after she insisted on staying?” Helbindi pointed out.

“It was a messenger who recited the message, and he did so in my presence,” Arden informed him. “There was no mention of Vanaheim whatsoever. Alfheim, yes, but not Vanaheim.”

“What else was said?” Loki asked, not having been told any such news.

“Nothing of importance. That she respected the princess’s decision but that she was concerned for her. That when she is finished with them, she will give her daughter the scrolls she has from the Garden of Tyrell to read. She wishes to see her soon but understands that after everything that has occurred, time needs to pass before she may visit and so forth.” Arden recited boredly. “Nothing of note.”

“So, there is no reason to suspect foul play by the princess,” Laufey repeated. “We use this information wisely. That will be all for now.” He dismissed, causing his sons and his advisors to leave the room. “Loki, a moment.”

Loki remained in place until the room emptied. “Yes, Father?”

“I wish to state I am elated by this news of you taking dinner with the princess. This will better everything, I can sense it. With a strong marriage, you will rule Jotunheim better than I ever could and with an able wife by your side, her information will be priceless.” He stood wearily from his throne. “I see already that she is becoming friends with many very swiftly since that little bit of misinformation was rectified. Ensure those with ulterior motives do not get too close to her, it would not do to have her hurt and then suspicious of everyone as a result. What bonds she makes will be imperative when you are King. When you have a few mates, you are likely to have the majority of the court covered, with one, she needs to be well-liked. I already hear that she is well received by most, but we must ensure some of less reputable favour get too close.”

“Of course, Father.” Loki bowed.

“Good.” Laufey nodded as he spoke. “She is an incredible asset to our House. For one born to Odin Allfather, she is a wonderful being. I guess a monster can sire a good soul.”

“I think her to have made a deal of some manner with Hela, herself,” Loki confessed.

“Why so?”

“Any that makes Heriff laugh is not without some manner of power or magic not of the Nine Realms.”

Laufey chuckled at his son’s words. “That is a fair argument.”

*

“Arden mentioned that the Allmother sent a messenger after your illness. I would have thought she would prefer to see you, considering?” Loki did not know if he should mention her mother to Ella but braved doing so at their next dinner together.

“Yes, she will have a lot to attend to after over six weeks in the Garden, so it would not do for her to not be present for longer after that,” Ella stated, eating some more of her food.

“I would have thought her to be concerned for you?”

“She is, I have little doubt. But she is also of the impression that if I do not severe ties with Asgard fully, I will not find my place here, so she will do everything she can to ensure I do not spend all my time mourning my childhood realm.”

“It comes across as incredibly callous.”

“I suppose it does if you look at it from an outside perspective. She is doing this of her own previous experiences. She told me as a child that the hardest time is the first year after you marry. As the wife, you are expected to go to his realm, be immersed in your husband’s life and though Asgard and Vanaheim are somewhat similar, so too are they different. She loathed it, but her mother did the same, as she went between realms for the first few years of her marriage and it did her no favours in the long run. My grandmother did not repeat her mistakes with my mother and apparently it was easier then. Or so I am told. I will have to take their word for it. What she does, she is doing out of not wanting to see me suffer.”

“Were you close to her when you were being raised?”

“Yes, I saw her almost every day. If she went somewhere off realm I did not see her, obviously, but when we were in the palace, she ensured we were in one another's company daily. We spoke often and she always tried to answer any questions I had on any matter. I was very fortunate.” She looked at him sadly. “I see how things are here. How involved a mother is in the raising of her child. I cannot imagine it was easy for you to not have your mother growing up when your brother’s had theirs.”

“Helbindi and Byleistr share a dam. She, Faurbauti, was miraculously able to carry two to term, but seven hundred years apart. I came in the intervening years, through Nal.” He looked sadly at his food. “Yes, not having any memory of her does not always sit well with me. Faurbauti and my father’s other mates speak highly of her and were very happy to tend to me as they did my brothers, but not having her took its toll in other respects.”

“I am sorry you did not have her. From the manner I hear the King speak, she was very dear to him and with the manner he sees you, it is clear he sees you similar.”

Loki nodded. “My father cares for us all.”

“He is a good King and a good man.”

“I would have thought you would dispute such, considering the war.”

“Men make mistakes, as do women. It is whether or not you learn from them that is important. We cannot hold onto people’s past actions if they show remorse.”

“What of justice for their actions?”

“You mean, how my father killed so many Jotnar, where is the justice for you all?”

“Yes.”

“And what is the justice for those Midgardians frozen because of the actions of your father and his army on Midgard?” Ella asked politely. “Do we hold everyone to different punishments for loss of life?”

“We suffered because of the loss of the Casket, what did Asgard lose?” Loki growled.

“Not enough.” That caused him to look at her in shock. “Trade deals and a few allies is not fair, I agree with that. But to state that my father cost life here then not see how Jotunheim cost life elsewhere is hypocritical.”

“Your father is such.”

“My father is not what you should hold up as an inspiration. I love him but he has not always been a good man. You, on the other hand, from what I see and hear, are far better.”

“Is your opinion on me changing?”

Ella looked at her husband in an analytical manner. “Perhaps a little, now I get to meet the man you hid from me before now. But time reveals all, including whether this is a facade or if I am really being treated to the true Loki.”

“You are very sceptical.”

“May I remind you which of us thought the other a spy simply because they bothered to learn about the other’s realm?”

“I know plenty of Asgard, thank you.” Loki retorted.

“Yet you never ask anything of it?”

“There’s very little I need to know after so extensively studying it through the years.” Loki shook his head. “I have little interest in knowing more. I doubt your brother will care too greatly to strengthen ties when he is named king.”

“And if you are wrong?”

“I am rarely wrong.”

“You have been incredibly wrong about me, perhaps your prejudice makes you wrong about him too.” She smirked.

Loki studied her some more. “You have an arrogant streak in you.”

“Recognise a shared trait in us, have you?” She laughed almost playfully in return. Loki gave her an abashed glare. “I see a few shared traits between us really. It’s a pity that most of them are negative.” Loki’s brow rose in bemusement, causing her to laugh again.

To his startlement, he did not loathe the sound.

[luckydoogs]

HOW TO CHOOSE THE BEST DOG FOR YOU

Once you determine that you’re ready for a dog and capable of caring for one, then it’s time to narrow down your choices. While some people know exactly what kind of dog they want and where to find him, others have no clue. Either way, I’ll walk you through the most important issues to consider.

Puppy or Adult Dog?

at this stage of his life. For starters, you’re in a position to teach your pet from day one. You can prevent habits you don’t like from emerging in the first place, and you can take measures to prevent your dog from having socialization issues later on in life. Of course, there’s also something magical about caring for another living being from a very young age. However, keep in mind that puppies are a lot of work, and the time commitment is huge. A puppy is brand-new to this world and knows nothing of human culture and expectations. Puppies don’t come housetrained, and you have to walk them very often. They haven’t yet learned that they’re not supposed to play bite. Plus, you have to constantly monitor their every move—puppies are extremely curious and often love to chew everything in sight, so if you let your guard down they can damage your home or, worse, get hurt. In short, you’ll need to be extra tolerant and patient for some time. What are the advantages of adopting an adult dog? They don’t play bite as much, and housetraining is a little less difficult simply because their bladders are more developed and they can “hold it” longer. Some dogs may even come fully housetrained and know basic requests such as “sit” and “stay.” Older dogs typically cost less to acquire, too. Also, keep in mind that some of the best dogs in the world are those who have spent years in rescue shelters waiting for the perfect home. However, there may be some disadvantages: Many older dogs may not have been socialized properly as puppies, which can make them less confident in certain situations. For example, many dogs fear men simply because they weren’t exposed to them at a young age. Bad habits like destructive chewing, jumping on people, and pulling on a leash are likely more established, which means it may take a little more effort to put a stop to them. Weigh the pros and cons of having a puppy versus an older dog and remember not to underestimate the commitment a young puppy requires. However, if you have the time and patience to dedicate to a dog regardless of his age, then either can be a perfect addition to your family.

Does Size Matter?

Some people want only a dog they can tote around in their purse; others believe that bigger is better. I’ve worked with dogs of all shapes and sizes, and I’ve learned that size has absolutely nothing to do with the personality of a dog. However, it’s something you should consider. Here’s what you need to know:

Large dogs may require more room to exercise. This is a generalization, but it’s often true.

Smaller dogs tend to have longer life spans. For instance, a Chihuahua can live eighteen years, whereas a Bernese Mountain Dog’s life expectancy is a mere six to nine years. A study published in the American Naturalist found that for every 4.4-pound increase in weight, life expectancy dropped by one month. Of course, many variables will affect a dog’s life span; size is just one of them.

The larger the dog, the higher the costs for his basic care. While a small breed might eat about a half cup of kibble daily, a large one can go through ten times that. Grooming, toys, and other expenses can cost more, too.

Smaller dogs are more portable. You can more easily pick them up and take them in the car or on errands. Also, on most commercial airlines, you can bring a small dog on board as a carry-on as long as he fits in a travel case under the seat in front of you.

Large dogs can ward off strangers. A Bullmastiff sitting in your front window is going to scare off potential burglars more than a Maltese might, simply because of his appearance. (Though a small dog who’s attentive and likes to bark can also make for an excellent watchdog.)

Small dogs are easier to control. I’m not saying that it’s easier to train a small dog. However, when a ten-pound dog jumps up or lunges on his leash, it’s quite different from handling an eighty-pound dog with the same behavioral issues. Think about whether you have the strength to control a bigger dog.

Mixed Breed or Purebred ?

People often fixate on a particular breed, but I’ve got to say that many of the friendliest, smartest, most capable dogs I’ve ever worked with were mixed breeds. These dogs, often found in shelters, are typical results of random or unintentional breeding, and they tend to cost much less than purebred dogs. (We’re not talking about “designer dogs” here. I’ll get to that in a second.) On the flip side, it’s understandable that many people want a particular breed. Maybe they adore Pugs because they grew up with them or German Shepherds because they make them feel safe. Also, there’s the obvious advantage: with a purebred, you can safely estimate the future size, grooming needs, and appearance of your dog. With a mixed breed puppy, you can take a guess, but you might be surprised when the dog you thought was nonshedding and destined to top out at ten pounds winds up leaving hair all over the house and weighing so much you can’t lift him. Many experts argue that mixed breeds are healthier because of what’s known as hybrid vigor: by combining two different breeds, you are pooling from a larger range of traits, so the dog will less likely carry one of the genetic conditions common in certain breeds. However, a large study in the Journal of the American Veterinary Medical Association found that the prevalence of certain genetic disorders among purebreds versus mixed breeds greatly depends on the specific health condition.4 Bottom line: I can’t recommend one type of dog over another—for every great mixed breed, there’s an equally amazing purebred. And more research needs to be done on this topic before we definitively know whether one is healthier than the other. Just rest assured that with so many choices, you are sure to find a loving, well-behaved companion.

DESIGNER DOGS

You might wonder about “designer dogs” such as Cockapoos and Morkies. These dogs are mixed breeds with a twist—they’re the result of intentional breeding of two purebreds to create a new breed that theoretically combines the best traits of both parents. For instance, a Cockapoo is a cross between a Cocker Spaniel and a Poodle, while a Morkie is a cross between a Maltese and a Yorkie. These puppies sometimes have a much heftier price tag than purebreds. The popularity of these dogs has dramatically increased since the late 1980s when an Australian breeder named Wally Conron set out to create a nonshedding Seeing Eye dog. He crossed a Labrador Retriever with a Poodle and voilà: the Labradoodle was invented, and a new trend in the dog world was launched. Some experts claim these dogs are healthier because of hybrid vigor, though no studies have proven that. However, keep in mind a lot of these designer dogs come from puppy mills and backyard breeders who are looking to make a quick buck and have no concern for the puppy’s health or temperament. In fact, according to an article in Psychology Today, Conron himself said, “I opened a Pandora’s box, that’s what I did. I released a Frankenstein. So many people are just breeding for the money. So many of these dogs have physical problems, and a lot of them are just crazy.”5 I’m not saying you should avoid these dogs. Just don’t believe all the hype. Designer dogs aren’t that different from the mixes you see at a shelter. Regardless of any benefits, their sellers claim, you still won’t know exactly what you’re going to wind up with, as temperament, appearance, and coat can vary greatly from one dog to another. Many dogs bred not to shed actually do.

CHOOSING A BREED

If you choose a purebred dog over a mutt, then your next step will be to pick a particular breed. I can’t stress enough how dangerous it can be to focus too much on the breed. People choose breeds based on stereotypes and are very often disappointed when their dog doesn’t behave as he’s “supposed to.” However, almost no individual dog will meet all of the characteristics defined by a breed description. Trust me: you simply cannot reliably assign attributes to your individual dog based on his breed. I’ve known lots of retrievers who don’t retrieve, tiny Yorkies who excel at competitive Frisbee, hyper Basset Hounds, and Border Collies who were terrified of the sheep they were bred to herd. I’m not saying to ignore breed altogether. Of course, there are characteristics of certain breeds that remain true: things like shedding and size are not going to vary widely, so these generalizations are more accurate. Also, if you’re picking out a dog, it’s still a good idea to get a wide-angle view of what certain breeds were bred to do, and if you need a dog to, say, herd cattle, then you should probably stick with a herding breed. When I first got into competitive Frisbee competitions, I purposely chose a Border Collie because I knew they are often high-energy dogs with relentless focus and physical stamina. In my dog Venus’s case, she fit the stereotype in those respects, and we won many competitions. However, I know plenty of other Border Collies who wouldn’t have been suited for the competitions at all. In sum, it’s fine to use breed stereotypes in a very preliminary way to get traction on the decision-making process as long as you understand that these are tentative guidelines, not absolute truths. Just as every human within a certain race, religion, or culture is different, the same concept applies to dogs: You need to get to know the individual.

[bluemoonfantasiesiii]

Servamp!Sakuya Ch. 1

“I’m Mahiru Shirota. Fifteen years old. I like to keep things simple; try to keep life uncomplicated. That’s why I picked him up. I didn’t want to just leave him there and regret it later. That would be irritating.”

Mahiru dried off the raccoon with an old towel. He had just given the critter a bath after picking it up off the street. He knew a raccoon wasn’t exactly the most common choice of pet, but if Mahiru hadn’t taken it in, who knows what would’ve happened to it in a big city like Tokyo? Besides, the raccoon seemed calm enough. If it had rabies, it would’ve tried to bite him already, so the young brunette figured it was safe.

As Mahiru rubbed the towel over his new flatmate’s fur, he noticed some strange things about it. First and most obviously, it was albino. Its snout and chest were still a brighter white than the rest of its body, and it still had black rings on its tail and around its eyes, but it was definitely missing some pigment everywhere else. The second thing was the fur around its face. It was long, natty, and almost looked like it had bangs. One clump, in particular, fell over its left eye. In fact, all the fur on the left side of its face was longer than its right.

At last, Mahiru deemed the animal dry enough to wander the apartment. Before he let it go, though, he carefully carded his fingers through the fur falling over its face.

“Poor thing,” he said to the raccoon. “It’s getting in your eye. Hang on.” Slightly surprised when the creature actually stayed put, Mahiru went to his nightstand and searched through the small drawer. Almost instantly, he found what he was looking for: a hairpin with two pink sakura flowers on it. He’d found it in the hallway at school about a year ago, and he kept it in hopes of one day finding its owner. However, thinking simply, if it had already been a year, she had probably replaced it by then. There would probably be no harm in Mahiru using it.

The raccoon stared at him curiously. It tilted its head as Mahiru gently pushed back the fur covering its eye and pinned it back using the hair clip. He laughed as it curled upward in response, seemingly defying gravity. The raccoon raised a little black paw up to feel the accessory. Mahiru could’ve sworn the thing smiled.

“Aww, he likes it,” he said to no one in particular, lifting the animal up off the ground. The raccoon titled its head again, its beady, white eyes staring directly at the teen. “Now, what to name you…?” Mahiru was no animal expert, but he was fairly certain his new friend was male. “Your hairpin has sakura flowers on it, but Sakura’s a little girly…” He mused to himself for a second before gasping with realization. “That’s it!” he exclaimed, making his albino companion jump in his hands. “How about Sakuya?”

There it was again. That satisfied little expression on the fluffy, white face. Mahiru laughed. “Sakuya it is, then!”

“I had no idea I was inviting trouble into my home and putting my life in danger… Until the next day.”

The next day, in a random high school, the students were attempting to plan for the upcoming Culture Festival. Most of the duties had been handed out already. All that was left was to decide who would make the costumes. No one really had any experience with making clothes, so the job was passed around until one student spoke up.

“Why don’t we just get Mahiru to do it?” asked a boy with short, black hair and red eyes. A pair of sunglasses hung from the collar of his uniform shirt. This boy was Tsubaki Yuushuu, a first year.

“But he’s already in charge of preparing the food,” replied another first year with wavy, light brown hair. Koyuki turned toward his friend with a soft smile. “True,” said Tsubaki, “but it’s not like he has anything else to do since he lives alone. Besides, he’s the only one of us who knows the first thing about sewing. The way, I see it, there’s no other choice!”

“You talk about him like he’s the class maid or something,” said Ryuusei, the last of the trio, with a chuckle. Tsubaki burst out laughing at that. It was an unexpected but admittedly accurate description of their friend. As he was busy slapping his desk in hysterics, the classroom door burst open, revealing Mahiru himself, a black apron over his uniform and a bowl of butter cookies balanced in each hand. The stern look on his face made everyone in the room simultaneously think “angry mother.”

“Seriously, you guys?!” he scolded. “You still haven’t picked someone?! There’s only one job left! How hard can it be?!” “Speak of the devil,” said Tsubaki, having calmed down.

Mahiru let out an exasperated sigh. “Honestly! Oh, and here,” he shifted the bowls to draw attention to them. “I made a test batch of cookies, so line up and-“ The entire class immediately swarmed the boy. He yelped as he struggled to balance the sweets. “HEY!” he shouted over his classmates. “I said LINE UP! One at a time! There’s plenty for everyone!”

Within seconds the whole class was gushing over how delicious the freshly-baked cookies were. Still a little annoyed at the stampede, Mahiru shrugged off the compliments with a simple “Well, I like to keep recipes simple,” before taking a bite of his own creation. Once everyone was done eating, the students all took their seats.

“So, costumes are all that’s left, right?” said Mahiru. Everyone nodded. “The person in charge of that will need to know how to sew and have lots of free time.” More nodding. “Well then, thinking simply,” Mahiru pointed to himself, “I’ll have to do it!”

The class erupted into cheers. They could always count on Mahiru to take charge!

(later)

Mahiru, Tsubaki, Koyuki, and Ryuusei strolled down the steps of the school. Mahiru and Tsubaki took the lead while Koyuki and Ryuusei lagged behind side by side, the latter greedily munching on a sandwich.

“Are you sure you can handle making the food and the costumes?” Koyuki asked with a concerned smile. As much as he appreciated Mahiru’s willingness to do all the work, he didn’t want his friend to exhaust himself. Mahiru tended to do this often. The other three recalled when he volunteered for track back in middle school, or when he offered to care for the class pet.

“Well, someone’s gotta do it,” said Mahiru. “I figured if I can be that someone, then why not just go for it?”

“Still,” said Tsubaki, who was now wearing his sunglasses on his face, “isn’t it a bit unfair that you’re doing everything yourself, Mahiru?” He threw an arm around the brunet. “I’d be happy to help if you’re willing to teach me how to wield a needle-“

“That would just be unnecessary work, especially knowing you!” Mahiru cut off his raven-haired friend. Tsubaki gasped and clutched at his own chest as if in pain.

“You wound me, Mahiru!” he cried, dramatically pressing the back of his free hand to his forehead. “How will I go on knowing my best friend has such little faith in me?!”

Ryuusei swallowed his mouthful before butting in. “He’s got a point though, Mahiru,” he said. “I mean, all that responsibility. Don’t you ever get…overwhelmed?”

“Nah,” Mahiru shrugged. “It’s easier to just do it than to try to make an excuse not to.”

“I don’t get that philosophy, but whatever,” Ryuusei responded. “We owe you one for this, though."

“Yeah!” Koyuki chimed. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help you out.”

Tsubaki laughed. “Well, it might take some bribing with me, but I’m here for you, too!”

“What can you even do, Tsubaki?” Mahiru jabbed. “Other than make bad jokes?”

Tsubaki feigned offense. “My jokes are gold, and you know it!”

“At the very least, we can help you shop for supplies,” said Koyuki.

“Thanks, you guys,” said Mahiru.

Tsubaki gasped. “Oh!”

“What is it, Tsubaki?” asked Mahiru.

“You’re not going to the shops near the station, are you?” the raven-haired boy inquired.

“Uhh, yeah, I am. Why?”

“There are rumors going around about that area.” A sinister smile tugged at Tsubaki’s lips as he leaned in. “I heard there’s a vampire on the loose!” The other three met Tsubaki with matching stares of skepticism.

“Seriously, though!” the red-eyed teen defended, smile falling. “There’s an investigation on some kind of street slasher. People have been calling him Tokyo’s Jack the Ripper! He’s already claimed about ten victims, all of them found drained of blood with bite marks on their necks and arms!”

While Mahiru and Ryuusei still weren’t convinced, Koyuki was practically shaking. “Th-that’s really scary!”

Tsubaki grinned, baring his longer-than-average canines. “Of course,” he said, “I could be lying,” and was promptly smacked on the back of the head by Mahiru.

“Don’t do that! You’re gonna give Koyuki a panic attack!”

Said brunet managed to compose himself fairly quickly. “Oh! W-well, if it’s really safe, I’ve got free passes for karaoke by the station if you guys are interested!”

“I’ve got no respect!” Tsubaki replied, sending himself and Ryuusei into a fit of laughter.

“I’ll meet up with you guys later,” Mahiru said, starting down the road to his apartment building. “I’ve got some laundry I want to finish before I do anything else.” And with that, he sprinted home.

“Hey!” Tsubaki called after him. “Not all of what I said was a lie! Don’t blame me if you get attacked by a vampire~!” “Yeah, yeah!” Mahiru called back.

“I’d actually already heard the rumor about vampires going around. But I had real things to worry about. I wonder if Sakuya’s alright. I hope he didn’t get into trouble while I was gone.”

Arriving at his building, Mahiru stepped into the elevator to get to the seventh floor. A few minutes later and home sweet home. He pulled out his key to unlock his apartment door.

“Sakuya, I’m home!” he called out from the doorway as he removed his shoes. A light from the living room caught his attention, and he could faintly make out pop music. “I could’ve sworn I turned the TV off before I left…” he muttered to himself. Now on guard, he silently approached the living room. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from gasping.

Sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of the TV, the only source of light in the apartment as the blinds were closed, playing a rhythm game, was a boy who looked about Mahiru’s age. He had messy, green hair that was swept off to the left. Dressed in black slacks with suspender straps hanging at his waist and a black jacket over a black-and-white-striped button-down shirt, the collar popped. Seeming to notice Mahiru’s presence, the boy turned to face him. His eyes were red and seemed to glow in the dim light. Those eyes widened as the controller fell from his hands, and the song finished with a series of “Miss” sounds.

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Night Terrors (Deadly Game AU) Chapter 2

Welcome back! I’m hoping to have the chapters all be posted by New Year’s, as a sort of grand finale for the year. Enjoy Chapter 2!

Previously on Night Terrors:

Heather sighed. She couldn’t put this off any longer. She reached out and pulled the cord. The doorbell rang out. And after a second, the door opened, revealing…

… an African American man of about fifty, wearing a blue jacket and blue pants with a plain white shirt. He smiled at them. “Well, hello there! You young folks come on in outta that cold.”

Heather blinked. Oh. Okay, well that wasn’t too bad. She followed the gang inside, with the man closing the door behind them.

Immediately upon stepping inside, Heather was hit by a wonderful blast of heat from the roaring fireplace. The cold was almost instantly chased away, and she sighed. At least it was warm.

“Welcome to the Burlington Library,” the man said, spreading his arms out to gesture to the whole of the large foyer. Heather’s whole greenhouse could have fit in the entrance hall. “We’re always open to receive guests! Glad you all found us!”

“We’re glad we found you too, sir,” Fred responded. “Our van sure could use some repairs.”

“We were wondering if we could spend the night,” Daphne said hopefully.

The man smiled, in a way that immediately set off alarm bells in her head. “You could stay here for the rest of your lives,” he said, once again in a way Heather did not like. The man gestured for them to follow him down a hallway.

Shaggy leaned over to Scooby. “Like, couldn’t we break down in a place where the dude who runs the joint didn’t act like he wanted to eat our livers?”

“With some fava beans and a nice Chianti, perhaps?” Heather muttered, smiling and chuckling morbidly at her own joke.

Velma turned to them. “Shaggy,” she scolded. “We’re guests, remember?”

Shaggy and Scooby got looks of fear at that. “Guests?” Scooby asked fearfully. “We’re what’s for dinner!”

Shaggy eeped in fear. Heather placed a hand on his shoulder. “I doubt we’re what’s for dinner, guys. Now c’mon, we should catch up with the others.”

They caught up with the group as they walked down the hallway, and Heather went up to the man. “Are you the caretaker, sir?” she asked politely.

“I certainly am, miss,” the man said cheerfully. “The name’s Dan Fluunk. I’m the caretaker up here all year ‘round. And may I know your name, miss?”

Heather smiled and offered her hand. “Heather McMann. Pleased to meet you. So you wouldn’t mind if we stayed the night?”

“It’s not a problem at all, Ms. McMann. Plenty of room right now. Only myself, a kind of creepy older lady that’s been staying with us a while, and the cook from an unspecified culture, Don Fong.”

Mr. Fluunk went over to a set of double doors and opened them, revealing a massive kitchen with incredibly huge ovens on one wall. Standing at the table holding a meat cleaver was a short man with tousled brown hair in a chef’s uniform, who looked incredibly ticked off at the large drumstick sitting on the cutting board.

“Stay outta the way of Don Fong,” Mr. Fluunk warned them. “He’s a bit, um, angry.”

Don Fong raised the meat cleaver, shouting something indistinct, then brought it down on the drumstick, chopping clean through the bone in one swing.

“See what I mean?”

Heather raised an eyebrow at Don Fong. Far be it from her to be xenophobic, when she herself wasn’t technically even of Earth, but she would definitely heed Mr. Fluunk’s advice and stay out of the way of Don Fong. Anyone who handled a meat cleaver like that deserved her respect. 

“Mr. Fluunk,” Velma said casually, but Heather could see her interest. “You said this was a library, right?”

“That I did. Would you like to see it?”

Velma’s casual air went away, and she clasped her hands excitedly. “Would I! Uh, I mean, sure,”

Mr. Fluunk chuckled, then turned away from the kitchen. “Right this way,”

He led the gang and Heather further down the hallway, until he came to another set of doors. He opened them and stepped inside. Heather entered, and froze.  

The library was indeed a hell of a library. It was vast and expansive, with shelves not just on the ground floor but also on the upper levels, with a long table with lamps to sit down at. Display cases of artifacts lined the walls, and across from the fireplace on the other wall was a huge window, showing the blizzard outside.

Heather’s heart clenched painfully at the sight of the library, and she couldn’t stop staring.

“Heather?”

Heather jumped and looked over. Beside her was Daphne, looking at her in concern. “Are you okay?”

Taking a deep breath, Heather exhaled and nodded. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine, Daphne.”

Mr. Fluunk led the group over to the fireplace and gestured up to a painting above the hearth. The painting was of four young adults, two boys and two girls, and… an orangutan? But Heather stared at the portrait thoughtfully. Apart from the randomness of the orangutan, the four young adults looked… very familiar. They were dressed in clothes from the late 1800s, and they looked a bit steampunk-ish.

Mr. Fluunk gestured proudly to the tall, handsome-looking young man in the center of the group. He had brown hair, was dressed a bit nicer than the rest, and was holding a golden compass in one hand. “The man himself: Oswald P. Burlington. Baron of the Rails, King of Steel, Lord of Steam. Back in the 1880s, he decreed that his library would stay open for visitors, anytime, day or night, forever and ever. If for any reason the library was to close, it and all its contents would go to Darrow University.”

“Was Mr. Burlington a steel mogul?” Heather asked Mr. Fluunk.

“His father was, I believe,” Mr. Fluunk replied. “That’s where the Burlington fortune comes from, in fact. The Burlington rail company was one of the few companies to not take government subsidiaries. But between you and me, Oswald got more use outta the rails than old Mr. Burlington. He traveled all around the world with his friends. It’s where all these artifacts come from.”

Mr. Fluunk led them across the library, gesturing to the artifacts in the display cases. “These artifacts are priceless. My family and I have been takin’ care of them for years.”

Heather admired the artifacts, but her attention was suddenly diverted by Velma. “Who are these portraits of, Mr. Fluunk?”

Heather looked up, and stared. Along one wall was a set of paintings. The subjects of the paintings? Four people and an animal. All of them. One was of four teenagers—two boys and two girls—wearing domino masks and a skunk (why a skunk?); another was of four male friars and a donkey; and a third was of four cowgirls and a bull.

Four people and an animal. Like the picture of Mr. Burlington, his friends, and the orangutan. Like the group of teenagers and dog she was with right now.

“That’s a curious question, young lady,” Mr. Fluunk replied. “Mr. Burlington had a fascination with groups of four people and an animal. But I have no idea why. It was some sort of mystery he was trying to solve.”

He just had to say the magic word. Heather shivered, definitely not from any cold she still felt, and tore her gaze away from the portraits. Mr. Fluunk led them to a statue of the same orangutan from the picture. The orangutan sat perched on the stand, with a fez atop its head.

“Now over here’s something really interesting,” Mr. Fluunk said, his tone turning affectionate. “A statue of Mr. Burlington’s pet orangutan, Mr. Peaches. Oh, they went everywhere together; adventure after adventure. He loved his monkey.”

But Heather was unable to appreciate the friendship. She stared paranoidly at the statue of Mr. Peaches, wishing she’d stayed home.

What is wrong with you? she thought to herself as they left the library. Pull yourself together. First impressions aren’t everything; you know that. Sure this house seems a little spooky, but that’s never stopped you before. You’re not Shaggy and Scooby; you’re better than that. There’s nothing wrong with this house. Pull yourself together.

Even so, she couldn’t help but mutter a KISSterian prayer under her breath as she left the library.

-/-

Mr. Fluunk came out of the kitchen where he was getting Shaggy and Scooby situated to make something, meeting Fred, Daphne, Velma, and Heather in the hallway. “Now, how about those rooms?” he asked.

Daphne sighed eagerly. “Oh, yes! A hot shower sounds amazing right now! Or a warm fire!”

Heather had to smile and nod at that. “Oh yeah, there’s nothing like a warm fire,” she agreed.

But they hadn’t even gotten up the stairs to the second floor when loud screaming echoed from back downstairs. Heather and the gang whipped their heads around. “That’s Shaggy and Scooby!” Fred exclaimed. “Come on!”

They ran back down the stairs, Heather following suit. Her heart pounded in her chest. Please let them be okay.

They were running down the hall to the kitchen when Shaggy and Scooby suddenly appeared, running from the kitchen, and crashed into the gang. Heather skidded to a stop just in time to not join the pile on the floor.

The gang picked themselves up. “We heard screaming!” Velma exclaimed.

Fred and Heather helped a violently shaking Shaggy and Scooby up off the floor. “Are you okay?” Heather asked.

“What’s wrong you guys?” Fred questioned.

Scooby turned back to the kitchen doors fearfully. “Don Fong, rorrible monster!” he cried.

Heather’s eyebrows went up. “Monster?”

“L-L-Like, in there,” Shaggy pointed at the doors, shaking and whimpering.

After a pause, Heather went over to the doors, the gang following behind. She cautiously turned the knob and opened the door, sticking her head inside and looking around. She frowned. “Are you sure, boys?” Heather opened the doors, and the gang looked inside to see…

A completely empty, spotless kitchen.

Shaggy and Scooby gaped at the kitchen in shock. “Like, wha—nuh—nuh-huh—No way!” Shaggy protested. “We totally trashed this place!”

Scooby looked into the kitchen fearfully. “What’s going on?”

That was precisely what Heather wanted to know.

[ambidextrousarcher]

KRPKAB Unpopular opinion: Dev Dixit Deserved Better

This is for you, @pratigyakrishnaki! My first KRPKAB related post, di! I know this is gonna get a lot of backlash, but here goes:

I recently started watching Kuch Rang Pyaar Ke Aise Bhi (KRPKAB), and frankly, I’ve fallen in love with the character of Devrath “Dev” Dixit. This post is basically a mishmash of all my Dev Dixit feels. One thing that I’ve noticed is that Dev gets a really bad rap in fandom. I really can’t understand why. I mean, yeah, Dev was not perfect, but, hey, no one is. Actually, according to most of the fandom, apparently Sonakshi is perfect. But I digress. I will get into my reasons later in this post. The first problem that Dev has is that he’s “emotionally weak”. What, I ask, is wrong with needing emotional support? Or just because Dev is a guy, he shouldn’t need it? Come on, Sonakshi also has plenty of moments where she needs emotional support, and someone or the other is always there for her, from Bejoy to Sourabh to Elena. That is not criticized. But, for once, there’s a man who needs emotional support and that’s wrong? He’s human, of course he’ll feel emotions. And, anyway, what happens when Dev is emotional? Either he keeps quiet, suppressing them, or he tells Sonakshi, who’s his only emotional support system. Because as far as his family, especially his mother is concerned, he’s the guy who shoulders all the responsibilities, who should take care of them. What about him? In the episodes of the arc leading to Sonakshi leaving Dev, even she’s not his emotional support anymore. Actually, as I see it, she stopped being that soon after their marriage, too engrossed in her own problems to notice Dev’s past trauma and help him through it, because, gosh, he was really put through the wringer as a child. He did the best he could, and he still gets flak for doing “injustice” to Neha. Injustice, that, I must say, was actually done by his mother. Dev was a kid then, struggling to help his mother to keep the family afloat. Even into his adulthood, he’s blackmailed emotionally by his mother over the “privileges” he got. There’s no one at this time to tell him that it’s not his fault. So he carries this guilt with him all these years. Yes, I accept that he had his fair share of mistakes, such as when he went stalker mode on Sonakshi. That was wrong. But the problem came after that was resolved. What happened? Sonakshi and Dev married. Cue culture clash. Dev gets a lot for not respecting Bengali culture, but he was actually trying to. It’s his family that messed everything up. And who gets the blame? Dev. By the way, what was Bejoy doing? He also should respect Dev’s culture, but that won’t happen. I can understand Sonakshi’s anger, but here’s my beef with her- She wants Dev to understand her, and says that she wants to understand him, but when push comes to shove, she doesn’t try to. If Sonakshi is angry, Dev usually apologizes, tries to make her feel better, but if Dev is angry? It’s Dev’s own fault! It’s Dev who usually ends up compromising. Another problem. Dev’s mother. Mrs. Ishwari Dixit. I used to love her at first, she got better in the end, but what the hell went wrong with her in the middle? She single-handedly ruined her son’s life, the son who accorded her the respect given to God! She was really possessive, and I can see what Sonakshi wanted to do here when she tells Dev to stop being mama’s boy, but, hey, I can’t see what’s wrong if you depend on your parents and vice versa. It wasn’t Dev ruining Ishwari’s life, it was the other way round. What’s wrong if a son loves his mother? I’ll tell you what. Absolutely nothing. As far as I can see, Dev was sandwiched between Sonakshi and Ishwari, both of whom wanted him to listen, neither prepared to listen to him. And then, the separation. Dev didn’t mean to hit Bejoy, it’s clear to see. But when he’s thrown out of the Bose House when he goes to apologize, he deserves it! The same happens when Ishwari falls. Sonakshi hadn’t meant it. But, considering what Dev had seen when he hit Bejoy by mistake, Dev’s reaction is natural. However, Dev tries to remedy his mistake. Sonakshi leaves. And everything is Dev’s fault anyway. Why? Because he genuinely wanted to help Saurabh and Sonakshi. He didn’t try to insult anyone. It was Radharani and Ishwari. He kept trying to handle the situation, Sonakshi knew the truth, but he got blamed anyway. Okay, I’ll accept that Vicky’s move of throwing the Bose family smoothly shifted the blame on an innocent Dev. I accept that Sonakshi was right in leaving him then. And I’ll give Sonakshi this. She handled Dev’s inevitable breakdown well during the wedding anniversary arc. But, Dev deserved to be told that he wasn’t all that guilty a long time ago. And he wasn’t told that. That’s why he started hating himself. And then the arc where Dev is getting remarried. She rejects him at least three times, and then goes and feels bad that he’s tying the knot with Nisha. Dev is honest with Sonakshi, says he loves her. Sonakshi knows she loves him, too, but is denying it till the end. I get that it might be natural, but I hated it. And then, once Sonakshi knows the truth about Vicky being the one to throw them out, neither does she inform Dev of the truth, nor Bejoy. Why? I don’t know. But, she should have, because come on, how much should an innocent man suffer? And then the bit where everybody is pissed at Dev for throwing Vicky out. Seriously? That guy tried to bankrupt Dev, to kill Dev, to break his married life into pieces, and you’re mad at DEV? Sonakshi’s blameless here, but what happened to the others? Cue Season 2. Hey, I get it, the dad should also be there for the kid, but isn’t parenthood a joint venture? Why reduce Dev into this stay at home guy who doesn’t have a life? Just why? This was the writers’ fault, and I get what they were trying to convey, but they could have as easily made Dev or Sonakshi, say, take care of the kids while working. Anyway, TLDR: Dev deserved way better, especially when it comes to his family. He deserved (everyone deserves) family that is actually supporting, not the sort of people who let him cry alone and heap responsibilities on his shoulders. And I know this is an unpopular opinion, but this is what I feel.