#avo talks general anger

[willicebattlecatsblog]

pov : willice rants about The Broken Code Jayfeather (SPOILERS FOR THE BROKEN CODE)

It's been a full year now that I decided to re-read every single Warrior Cats books, as a teenager I stopped at OotS, so I re-read all of TPB, TNP, PoT and OotS. I am done with DotC (I have many opinions) and just finished AvoS, so I am starting TBC (currently at book 2).

Clearly the Writing Team™ has big, big issues with how to handle Jayfeather and his personality. Jayfeather was meant te be blunt and to freely voice his anger and concerns with little respects for other feelings sometimes, but he was never meant to be outright mean and antagonistic, was he ?

He went from a personal favorite of mine in PoT and OotS to a very unlikable character in TBC. He actively bullies and isolates Twigkit in AvoS (when he was previously known to be patient with kits??), but I can tolerate this mischaracterization i guess

But TBC Jayfeather ??? I don't know if it's just the Writing Team™ being extremely bad at understanding his character, or if it's the first symptoms of the Onestar disease, but I am kind of scared of how he will evolve in the 4 following books :(((

In the first two books of TBC, Jayfeather can hardly go through a single conversation with / about Shadowsight without straight up insulting him, his intelligence and competences. He had opinions about Willowshine and Kestrelflight, but he would rarely, if ever, straight up disrespect them to their face like that. Now, he actively participates in all the gossip around Shadowsight and characters will say "Jayfeather said Shadowsight is just a featherhead !" because Jay's opinion is that valued and important. (idk the actual English insults, all my books are in French, so you will have to suffer the French horrors sorry guys 😔)

At some point, during a Gathering, Jayfeather just tells everyone that Mothwing doesn't believe in StarClan. In front of the five Clans, the leaders, the deputies, the other warriors, like, everyone. Just because he was personally pissed at her opinion.

Just as a reminder, the Clans are all extremely faithful and the lack of faith has been a plot point several times, showing emphasis on how important it is for all cats to show devotion to StarClan. Medicine cats are literally meant to talk to StarClan. And in general, the Clans are known to be agressive to anyone who doesn't respect StarClan, thinking that if you don't follow StarClan's commands then you don't have any moral values at all.

Another reminder, Mothwing is not only the daughter of Tigerclawstar, she is also an ex rogue. She got her medicine cat title only because her brother created a fake omen, because her status as an ex-rogue made her an outcast in her own Clan. Mothwing has been known to be more vulnerable to isolation than other medicine cats.

So huh, yeah, Jayfeather just put Mothwing, an already vulnerable she-cat, in extreme danger, throwing her under the bus in front of absolutely everyone, including her own leader, her own deputy, most of her clanmates, and most of the other Clans members. Mothwing is shocked, obviously, and quickly says that she does believe StarClan is real, just isn't devoted to them.

The response of the Clans to this revelation is so out of character and disconnected from their agressive violent culture that I had to re-read the whole thing a few times.

The Clans just go "weird flex mothwing, but ok" and go back to their business (business being : questioning why StarClan isn't communicating with them anymore). From what I know, the revelation Jayfeather just made is never going to impact the story ever again because Mothwing gets banished for the crime of being a ShadowClan cat's child. So this whole scene is just there to show that Jayfeather will use precious informations against others if he gets annoyed at them ??? I don't know if this is bad writing or character assassination at this point man😔my po3 jayfeather would never.

None the less, Jayfeather KNEW how dangerous such a revelation could have been. Every single medicine cat, including her own apprentice Willowshine, kept the secret, because they all KNEW it would endanger Mothwing if the Clans discovered the state of her faith. This was literally a plot point in TNP with Leafpool like COME ON WRITING TEAM™ YOU HAVE TO LOCK IN !!!!!

I know this scene is canon (sadly), but this depiction of Jayfeather is just so alien to me. Jayfeather knows what it's like to be different and to be special, why would he insult Shadowsight over and over again when the kid is obviously struggling ? Also Jayfeather has been accused of murder and was on thin ice at some point, he knows what it's like to be accused in front of a whole Gathering, why would he do that to Mothwing out of all cats ???

Do you have any opinions on this ? Do you think this is just normal Jayfeather behavior, or do you think it is the Writing Team struggling to grasp Jay's personality ? I would like to know what you feel about that because from all the fandom discourse I did read, no one ever talked about how flabbergasting Jayfeather's behavior would be

In conclusion the real impostor is jayfeather

[riddlelikesstuff]

meet my FE3H oc, sylvain’s younger brother pierre!!! all the details about him are under the cut! :D it would’ve been a very long post without the cut so here it is heehee 

Pierre Noel Gautier

Pronouns: He/Him

Birthday: 11th of Red Fox Moon (November 11th)  (this was the date that FE: Radiant Dawn was released in North America :D) 

Age: 15-16 pre-skip, 20-21 post-skip 

Initial Info:

Starting House: Blue Lions

Starting Class: Noble

Starting Closest Allies: Sylvain and Felix 

Combat Details:

Strengths: Swords, Bows, Brawling, hidden talent in Faith 

Weaknesses: Lances, Riding 

Personal Ability: Paranoia: Grants Avo +20 when unit is not at full HP. 

Supports:

Dimitri B

Dedue A 

Felix A (Platonic) 

Ashe B+ 

Sylvain A (Platonic, but that’s a given lol) 

Mercedes A 

Annette B+ 

Ferdinand B

Caspar A+ 

Dorothea B 

Linhardt B+ 

Claude B+ 

Raphael B+ 

Lysithea A  

Marianne B+

Alois B 

Seteth A (Platonic) 

Shamir B+ 

Flayn B+ 

Other Info: 

Interests: Helping those in need, exploring 

Likes: Cold weather, bugs, exploring new areas, helping others, being treated as an equal 

Dislikes: Being purposely ignored, heights, the dark, being talked down to, cooking 

Lost Items: Brass buckle, Stuffed lion, Broken-off lance piece 

Background Info:

Sylvain’s younger brother who was born without a Crest. 

In his childhood, Margrave Gautier would often leave him outside for a day at a time with a couple of meals and a thick coat. He wasn’t given much attention in his childhood, except by Sylvain, who doted on him and still continues to. 

He spent more time with Miklan than Sylvain did, and thus has a better bond with him. 

When he was young he once accidentally wandered too far and ran into a group of Sreng hunters, who showed him kindness. Since then he has been very interested in Sreng culture and relations, and generally showing kindness to the downtrodden. (His stuffed lion lost item was a gift from the tribe who took care of him.) 

Sylvain insisted that Pierre go with him to the monastery to avoid him sharing the same path as Miklan. 

Personality: 

To be described in one word, intense. He feels his emotions intensely, he loves and hates intensely, he comes off intensely. The real question though, is how many tents? (hehe) 

First impressions with him are pretty much always very loud and in-your-face because he feels like he needs to be Seen all of the time, because of his neglectful upbringing. Being ignored is a big trigger for him. :( 

Likes to feel like he’s on equal terms with everyone around him. Because of this he doesn’t like to be talked down to or doted on, and he doesn’t do that to other people in return. 

Once you get to know him and he knows he can trust someone, he starts to quiet down quite a bit. He’s very emotional and is quick to anger or tears. He’s also very open about happiness, and laughs pretty loudly. 

Post-timeskip he gets a lot quieter as well, though he still has the same kind of intensity. He just kinda channels it into his ~edge~. 

thank you for reading this long thingie!!! 

[whistlewhileiblogit]

"Why didn't you fight back?"

Now I am not an expert on abuse. All I am about to say is what I know from my own experience, experiences of others' and own research. But here we go.

I hear this a lot from people. People that have never been abused emotionally, mentally, physically or sexually. Now, I haven't been sexually assaulted, so I won't be talking about that as I don't want to be insensitive or ignorant on the subject. Though I imagine at least some of what I say could be applied to that situation.

I also want to explain that while I am generalising a bit, I am not trying to speak for each and every victim of abuse. My intent is not to do that, but to try and explain to those ignorant of what abuse what it really is like.

Now I am gonna tell you why in the past I have not fought back against abusers. This includes (but is not limited to) physically attacking back, verbally standing up for oneself, calling authorities, getting an AVO (apprehended violence order), etc. But to do this, I have to give a (long) decent explanation of what I have experienced. How it feels from the point of view of a victim. So here we go...

I have suffered abuse in one form or another since childhood. As did my brothers. This was at the hands of our father. We were constantly belittled, berated and bashed for any given reason. My mother suffered the same treatment, and did her best to protect us.

My abuser was loud, sadistic. Always angry, always yelling. Loud enough that he could be heard down the street. Our neighbours knew what was happening to our mother, to us. Children. Never once did anyone do or say anything to try and help.

Now being the youngest, I was always naturally shy, and this abuse lead me deeper into that. I was quiet. I knew to keep my mouth shut. Don't talk back. Don't fight it.

If we were running away from our abuser? Do as he said. Stop running. Maybe this time he won't hurt me if I do as he says?

Of course though, he would. I remember being grabbed by my hair, dragged into his car and driven to our relatives. In front of them he beat me until I couldn't cry anymore, then left me there to go have lunch. I dragged myself behind the armchair in the corner to hide. My relative did nothing. All she did was wait until it was quiet, and then hand me a piece of toast.

This is just one example of truth I give. It was a seed that was unknowingly planted in my brain. Nothing will keep you safe. Nobody will help you.

Now I wasn't the only one being abused. Nor did I get the "worst" of it. When my abuser wanted to be nice, he was nice. He would do things for me...sorta. it was conditional, but to me, that was normal.

Now my eldest brother, let's call him Ian...our abuser hated him for whatever reason. More than the rest of us. So he was never kind to him. And Ian resented me especially for it. In his eyes, I was spoiled, a brat.

So he took it out on me.

He took his anger out on me in any way he could, mostly through violence. So I quickly learned to avoid him as well.

If Ian walked into the lounge room, I'd leave as quickly and quietly as possible. If I was having a conversation with mum and he walked in the room I would stop talking. I learned to spend most of my time alone in my room. I ate my dinners in there, I only left to go to the bathroom, or use the family computer (until I saved up money to buy my own laptop to avoid getting in trouble for being on the computer).

So by the time I was a teenager, I had a good system of handling both abusers. At the time, I didn't know that is what they were. At the time, they were simply my father and brother. I still did everything I could for them. I bought them birthday and Christmas gifts with no expectations, I was generally courteous and polite.

But at some point around ages 15-16, something in me has changed, or begun to. I became snappier at them both. If I was shoved, I'd shove back I began standing up for myself. But only a little bit. Eventually, I would still go back to my room, crying. But I wouldn't hide under my bed or in my closet anymore. I was becoming angry. Infuriated. I hated that they made me cry.

I have a sort of revolution or sorts. I gave them the cold shoulder for the most part, unless I absolutely had to play nice.

Fast forward a few years later, abuser #1 moved out, freeing us so much. My relationship with Ian began to improve. He actually started to be...kind to me? He still had a temper sometimes, but mostly he begun being nice with me. And I welcomed this change with open arms.

I became as supportive of him as I could. This involved lending him money, helping him through his drug addictions/rehab, calming him down when he was going off the rails, stuff like that. Whenever my mum would sigh in exasperation and say, "You are too good to him. You don't know how much you help." I would shrug casually and say, "I'm his sister, it's my job" and think nothing more of it.

Eventually, my mum and I moved out together, and the whole family essentially split for the first time, everyone being forced to find their own way.

And for the months in our new home it was just mum and I, we were happy. It wasn't by any means perfect. There were still struggles, and we didn't always agree- but abuse was never present. It was a fresh of breath air. We had finally escaped.

Until Ian came to our door one day, crashed on our couch uninvited and refused to leave. He had completely reverted. His temper was the same as it used to be. He was back smoking ice as well. He completely took over our home, and I couldn't stand it. I was back to staying in my room. In my own damn house. Mum and I couldn't converse without an argument following because of his berating. Yet he was trying to be on his "best" behaviour. He refused to lay a finger on me or mum, because he knew that would be the last straw. He figured everything else was fair game though.

And so every chance I got- I told him to get the fuck out. I told him that he wasn't welcome, that he didn't belong here. That neither of us invited or wanted him to stay. Of course this meant I would receive verbal abuse- but hell, I was used to it by now. Ian calling me fat or a slut or a mutt washed over me as if he'd said nothing by this point.

I wanted so badly for him to hit me. "PLEASE DO" I'd invite him. Just lay one fucking finger on me. I wanted an excuse to fight him. To give him what he deserved. And yet he wouldn't. He'd get all in my face of course- I can still smell his foul breath as he screamed at me centimetres away, spit flying onto my face as he did. He would threaten me constantly- telling me that he would gas me in my sleep, or sneak into my room at night and cut my head off- and I laughed it off. I wasn't afraid of death, and certainly not of him. Even after he picked up a can of bug spray and sprayed it in my face. My eyes, nose and mouth. I didn't even react. Not a cough. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of gagging. "Please try!" I'd laugh. "Please try kill me, I beg you."

Now Ian was (is) a gutless wimp at heart. After a particularly big fight, he would vanish for a few days. One day, he came back, and I ignored him. Didn't acknowledge him at all.

I woke up one morning to find a large jar of nutella at my door. I was confused, but figured maybe my mum had put it there (she often surprises me with treats)? So I put it on my shelf in my room and headed into the kitchen to get breakfast. As I was looking in the cupboard, squatting down, Ian softly said, "Did you see the nutella? I got it for you."

"Oh." I said, continuing to look in the cupboard. "ugh okay..." and then I felt his arms wrap around me in a hug. My entire body was tensed now. How dare he fucking hug me after all the shit he's done!??

"I'm sorry for how I've been. I've just been going through a lot lately" Ian let me go, keeping his hands on my shoulders, rubbing my back.

"Err...okay" I muttered, hoping he'd get the drift and leave me the fuck alone. He didn't. He kept standing there, rubbing my back as I was squatted looking in the cupboard. All I wanted was the peanut butter and this is what I got. "Fuck, you've got more muscles than Jake (other brother)"

I stood up, finally turning to face him. I was skeptical. I'd seen this act before. "Why don't you apologise to (the dog)? Pretty sure he doesn't understand why you were punching him the other day. After all, he was just trying to defend me."

This struck a nerve with Ian. Long story short, that dog used to be his dog. He thought he would be completely loyal to him. The dog was loyal to me. After all, I took care of him, and, you know, didn't punch him in fits of anger.

Anyway, fast forward a few more weeks, and Ian is back to his old self. His true self. It was midnight, I was playing Red Dead 2, trying to relax after a long work night. So of course Ian comes inside, and crashes on the couch. He didn't say a word, which was fine with me, until...

"Turn that fuckin shit down! It's too loud!" I grit my teeth and told him to shut up, and turned it down. I could hardly hear it it was that quiet.

Ian goes to sleep, snoring like a fucking howler monkey (much louder than my game was, mind you), and eventually snorts himself awake half an hour or so later. "Turn that fucking shit off! Go the fuck to sleep you stupid slut! What you have playstation withdrawals??!" etc etc. And I...couldn't stay silent anymore.

I told him if he had a problem with it, he could get the fuck out of my house, considering nobody invited him here. The screaming match began and then he leapt over to the power point and ripped the ps4 from its socket. I snapped. I shoved him away, back down on the couch, and he began trying to kick me away.

But I couldn't stop myself, despite my better judgement, because that had long since turned off. I screamed in fury, kicking him as much as I could, leaping at him and clawing at his skin. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to feel everything he made me feel. Twenty-two years of repressed anger had finally been unleashed. I felt like a tiger, unable to defend, only attack. I was seeing red.

He was kicking and punching me too, of course. He kicked me back and when I fell, he grabbed me from behind. He tried to get me in a choke hold (a favourite move of his), but I kept kicking, elbowing. He pulled me down onto the couch and I slashed him with my nails. They were much longer than I ever keep them, as I had recently misplaced my nail clippers. I felt one of my nails tear back completely, tearing the skin under my nail.

But that was enough to break free. And so I screamed at him again to get the fuck out. He refused. So I knocked the basket of his shit (little bits and pieces of bolts, phone chargers and the like) off the coffee table, so it flew on him, the floor, everywhere. I couldn't give a fuck. He tried pushing me down again to stop me from touching his stuff, so I did it again, throwing more of his shit- the shit that he had taking up my space. My home. And I threw it on the floor.

Now by this point the two dogs (one large and one small) had long since woken up and had started barking wildly. But when Ian lunged at me again, both of my dogs jumped in to my defense. That was when Ian turned his attacks toward them, especially the big one. His one. He tried to punch him in the ribs, but I got inbetween them-nobody touches my babies. I pushed him down, kicking, punching, clawing- whatever I could to keep him away from my dogs.

And then finally mum woke up, came out to find the mess. She told me to shut up. I turbed on her. Why wasn't she calling the cops?? She kept telling Ian for MONTHS she would if he laid a finger on me. So why wasn't she? I felt so betrayed and confused. But mum told me she would try calm him down. And that I should just take the dogs and go to my room. I felt like a fucking child again. Just be quiet. Go hide in your room.

But for the dogs' sake, I agreed to help calm them down. But not before my little one managed to nip Ian on the ankle. It was in this moment, I realised how pathetic he seemed. As soon as he got that little nip, not strong enough to even pierce the skin, he fell onto the couch literally wailing. I picked her up, and called off my boy, and went to my room in shock. That is what I spent years being afraid of? All that time I spent thinking he was the toughest person I knew, thinking he was practically indestructible, and he bursts into tears because my chicken nugget of a dog nipped his bloody ankle?! It was nothing other than pathetic.

Over the next hour he continued carrying on, now about his missing phone that he insisted I stole. (hint: I didn't)

Eventually mum went to her room to call the cops. And I heard the front door open and him leave.

The cops eventually came, long since he had left. And I knew I had to speak to them. I wasn't excited about it. I knew what was going to happen. I knew I would look like the bad guy here. The unreasonable one. And for another thing; I didn't trust the police as far as I could throw them.

So three cops come, two of which come inside. And they look confused. It was quiet since Ian had left, and mum had cleaned up all the mess trying to look for his phone. The place looked practically spotless. And I wasn't bleeding. I didn't look a mess. I wasn't sobbing or distraught. I was calm, annoyed at most.

They were so perplexed as I explained what happened. The main officer explained that he didn't even understand what had happened, what my mum had even called for. I told them I wanted him out of my life. I tried to tell them how he has always been.

"Well, have you reported any of his behaviour before?" The cop said. I knew he thought I was full of shit. I wanted to go in my room and sleep.

"No." mum and I answered. Was this guy serious?

"Well then what he's done in the past doesn't really matter." I was so over it by this point. The main cop went outside and left some dude who didn't seem to know what the hell he was doing to ask us the same questions we'd already answered.

I repeated myself multiple times. It wasn't until the third time of explaining what happened, I began to reenact my motions when I saw that my ps4 was gone. "Aaaand he's taken my bloody playstation." I said, completely dejected. My heart sank as it began to weigh on me. Red Dead 2 was in there too. Not only that, but all my trophies and game saves...everything. it might sound stupid to anyone else but playing games was one of my only true escapes. A distraction. And if I knew my brother- which I did- it would be long since destroyed now. The image of it splintered on some concrete was all I could think about now.

The main cop came back inside, and he informed me that the police would take an AVO out on my behalf. This basically meant that it would (in theory) prevent Ian from coming anywhere near me or my home. "What about my stolen playstation and game?" I asked.

And the cop smirked at me. I knew exactly what he was thinking. That I was just some stupid, young obsessed-with-technology millenial. "Yeah, that's nothing, we can deal with that later." He scoffed as if I was being unreasonable. It wasn't nothing to me.

So the police got their answers, and they just...left. I didn't have to go to the station or anything. It seemed so informal, unprofessional. That was it? How was I to know when the AVO was in effect? What were they gonna do about my stolen property?

This was three days ago. I have still heard nothing from the police. Not letter or anything. It is just a waiting game.

And it is this whole thing which has made me look into familial abuse. Why was I starting to feel guilty? Was I really to blame? Should I have just backed down like I used to?

I keep thinking about how differently that night would have gone had I been the person I used to be. Scared and upset. What if I had just said nothing, saved my game and turned it off and gone to bed? Well for one thing, I'd still have my ps4. But...the police wouldn't have been called. And Ian would have been here still, terrorising my mother and me.

I can't say if I would be more or less miserable than I am now. Maybe it would be the same. I'll never know.

But here's the thing that got me thinking about abuse, and when people ask why we don't fight back.

Of course everyone has their own reasons. Sometimes it's safer to do nothing. Sometimes you're just scared. Often you are conditioned into believing you are powerless, as I was for a long time.

But look at what happens when victims DO fight back. There are countless stories or victims- most of them women being abused by their partners or exes- who did all the right steps. They reported abuse and violence every single time, they got AVO's, and nothing fucking changed. Plenty of people moved out of state, and were followed.

And after years- when we finally had the courage to do something about it, my mother and I were simply dismissed. We weren't taken seriously. Nobody listened when I tried to explain the long, complex dynamic Ian and I have had.

But I am not seen as a victim in the eyes of others BECAUSE I fight back. Those who know me simply think my relationship with my brother is just tumultuous at best/worst. Even after explaining. I don't fit into the "victime image". I'm not a skinny, weak looking girl. I'm not beautifully weeping and I don't have a black eye when I turn up to work. I'm not the beautifully tragic image the media has conned the world into believing that is what an abuse victim looks like.

I look angry, violent even. I have messy, wild hair and gritted teeth. I am solid built and fairly muscular. The bruises I have only showed up the day after, and nobody knows how much physical pain I'm in. Being this sort of person has led people into viewing me as indestructible, strong. But it is all survival instincts.

And I am punished for it.

If I never fought back, nobody would have helped me. I learned that young. People like to pretend if they see something, they'll say something, yet when it happens, they say, "it's none of my business". I was a child, and had no help. So why should I expect it as an adult?

And because I did fight back, I am seen as equally guilty. An aggressor. Unstable. And yet again, nobody will help me.

THAT is why I never fought back. But now, I don't give a fuck. I am never going back to cowering again. I am done wasting tears over the actions of the men who wronged me. Even if it kills me, I will NEVER stop fighting back.

Tldr; people don't help victims regardless of whether they fight back against their abusers or not. There are plenty of reasons why victims would or wouldn't fight back and there is no right or wrong decision. Stop blamimg victims.

[ase-trollplays]

-- capriciousThespian [CT] began trolling pharosDweller [PD] --

-- capriciousThespian [CT] began trolling pharosDweller [PD] --

[05:33] CT: You!~

[05:34] PD: begin\\ Me. //end

[05:34] CT: You're The One Tragedy H!red To Be My Keeper, Yes???~

[05:35] PD: begin\\ That's a blunt way of putting it, but essentially. //end

[05:36] CT: Well Let Me Just Say You're Terr!ble At !t!~

[05:37] CT: !'ve Been Go!ng Utterly !nsane For The Last Three Per!gees, And ! Never Heard From You Once!~ Do ! Have To Do Everyth!ng Myself?!~

[05:43] PD: begin\\ Oh shit, was that not you? Was I following around the wrong prissy little indigo for three perigee? //end

[05:43] CT: Pr!ssy?!~

[05:43] CT: How Dare You!~

[05:44] CT: And !'m Not L!ttle!!~

[05:49] PD: begin\\ Alright, you're right, that wasn't fair. My apologies. //end

[05:49] PD: begin\\ Vertically challeneged. //end

[05:49] CT: UGH!!!~

[05:49] CT: ! Can't Bel!eve Tragedy Thought A Moron L!ke You Would Be Any Help To Me!~

[05:50] PD: begin\\ I think the general idea was for me to antagonize you into letting out your aggressive tendancies on me, instead of some undeserving innocent bystander. //end

[05:52] CT: So You Volunteered To Be K!lled, Then?~ You Really Are A Moron~

[05:55] CT: And For The Record, !nnocent People May D!e At My Hand Regardless~

[05:55] CT: ! Prom!sed By Beloved ! wouldn't K!ll Senselessly Any Longer, But !'m Go!ng Crazy~

[05:56] CT: ! Can Tell !'m Los!ng Her Love, And !t's Mak!ng Me Crazy~

[05:57] CT: And !f ! Lose Her, Then What Am ! Supper!ng For??~ What W!ll Have Been The Po!nt!!?~

[05:57] CT: ((*Suffering))

[05:57] CT: !f She's Go!ng To Throw Me Away Anyways, Then What's The Po!nt Of Honor!ng Our Prom!se?~

[05:58] CT: ! Came To You Because !'m G!v!ng You Exactly One Chance To Change My M!nd, Otherw!se Trolls _W!ll_ D!e~

[05:59] CT: So Do Your Job!~ Mo!ra!l me!~ G!ve Me One Reason Not To K!ll Everyone ! Come Across As Soon As ! Log Off!!~

[06:07] PD: begin\\ Okay, in order. I promise you couldn't kill me, even if I let you try. Second, if you consider honoring a promise to a loved one "suffering", you may need to reconsider your priorities. Third, have you considered that if you go on a mindless killing spree, eventually someone that you try to kill is going to kill you instead? //end

[06:09] CT: !f ! D!e, Then So Be !t!~ !'d Rather Be Dead Than W!thout My Altr!!'s Love!~

[06:10] CT: ! Made Her The Center Of My World~

[06:10] CT: Revolved My Ent!re Un!verse Around Her, And What Does She Do?~

[06:10] CT: She Threatens To Abandon Me Just L!ke

[06:10] CT: ! Won't Even Say Her Name~

[06:11] CT: ! made Her My Everyth!ng, And She Doesn't Apprec!ate !t At All!~

[06:11] PD: begin\\ Why did she threaten to abandon you? //end

[06:12] CT: She Refuses To Trust Me~ Sure, ! Haven't Been The Perfect Mate, But ! Made Her My Empress And Answered To Her Every Beck And Call~

[06:12] CT: She Wanted Me To Change, So ! D!d, And She Won't Bel!eve Me!~

[06:13] CT: ! D!d Everyth!ng For That Ungrateful Harpy, And She Won't See Reason!~

[06:13] PD: begin\\ What did you change for her? //end

[06:15] CT: ! Stopped Spree K!ll!ng, ! Stopped Avo!d!ng Her When ! Made M!stakes, And ! Even Tr!ed To Get Along W!th Tragedy~

[06:15] CT: But She !ns!sts My Love For Her !n "Unhealthy" and "Dangerous" As Though Center!ng My Ent!re Be!ng Around Her !sn't The most Grand Of Romant!c GEstures~

[06:15] CT: ((*Is))

[06:18] PD: begin\\ It sounds like the issue might be that the two of you have different ideas of what constitutes a healthy matespritship. //end

[06:19] CT: She Used To Love My Adorat!on Of Her, But Now She Says !'m Suffocat!ng Her!

[06:19] CT: She Knew ! Had !ssues When She Agreed To Be My Mate!~ She Knew What She Was S!gn!ng Up For!~

[06:20] CT: And The Fact That She's Try!ng To Treat My Love For Her L!ke Garbage To Be Taken Out !s !nfur!at!ng!~

[06:22] PD: begin\\ Alright. Your feelings of betrayal and anger are normal and understandable. I assume you've tried communicating these feelings to her? //end

[06:26] CT: Of Course ! Have!~

[06:26] CT: Not Recently, Of Course, But ! D!d At Some Po!nt!~

[06:27] PD: begin\\ And what did she say? //end

[06:32] CT: Does !t Matter What She Sa!d??~ She's Clearly !n V!olat!on Of My Trust And Fa!th !n Her!~ !f ! Don't Have Her, ! Have Noth!ng At All!~

[06:33] PD: begin\\ Aww, but you have me. That has to count for something, right? //end

[06:34] CT: Do ! Really??~ Because You Never Once Tr!ed To Contact Me!~ ! Had To Be The One To Tell You !'m Th!s Close To The Edge Of My San!ty!~

[06:36] PD: begin\\ We all make mistakes. Regardless, if you tell me what she said, I might be able to help you figure out a better ne><t step than self-destruction. //end

[06:37] CT: She Sa!d She Would G!ve Me Another Chance, But She Clearly L!ed Because !'m Los!ng Her!~

[06:38] CT: Hell,Maybe !'ll Just End Her L!fe And Be Done W!th Her~

[06:38] CT: !f ! Let Her Leave, She'll F!nd Someone Else, And The THought Of Someone Else Lov!ng Her L!ke ! Used To !s

[06:38] CT: UNBEARABLE~

[06:38] CT: !'d Rather She Stop Breath!ng Than Let Soeone Else Have Her~

[06:39] CT: ((*Someone))

[06:40] PD: begin\\ Okay, what makes you say she's "clearly" lying? //end

[06:41] CT: Because She Doesn't Trust Me!~ ! D!d Everyth!ng She Asked And She St!ll Won't Trust Me~

[06:41] CT: And She Th!nks ! Haven't Not!ced Her Gett!ng Chumm!er W!th Tragedy~

[06:42] CT: !'d Sl!t That Bastard's Throat !f ! Could For Try!ng To Steal Her Away From Me!!~

[06:44] PD: begin\\ Okay, that sounds like you might be jumping to conclusions. There's more than one reason that someone might get close to someone else. //end

[06:46] CT: They're Only Supposed To Be K!smeses, But ! Just Know There's Someth!ng More There!~

[06:46] CT: There Has To Be!~ Why Else WOuld She Trust H!m More Than Me??~

[06:48] PD: begin\\ Could there be pale feelings involved? Trust isn't limited solely to matesprits. //end

[06:51] CT: Ugh, There Shouldn't Be Any Feel!ngs At All!~ ! Never Even L!ked Them Be!ng Black!~ He Doesn't Deserve Her !n Any Quadrant!~

[06:56] PD: begin\\ While I can understand you feeling that way, I have to point out that you can't control the way one of your quadrants approachs having other quadrants that you aren't a part of. //end

[06:58] CT: But Why Does She Have To Have Feel!ngs For H!M Of All People?!~ Why Can't ! Be Enough For Her??~

[07:01] PD: begin\\ What makes the feelings being for him different than them being for some other person? //end

[07:02] CT: BECAUSE ! DESP!SE H!M!!!~

[07:04] PD: begin\\ Why? //end

[07:05] CT: He's The Reason !'m So Unstable!~ Do You Have Any !dea How D!sor!ent!ng, How Ex!stent!ally Cr!ppl!ng !t !s To Be Forced To Share A Body W!th Another Be!ng??~

[07:06] CT: Not To Ment!on He's St!ff, Rude, And A Total Asshole!~

[07:06] CT: He Doesn't Deserve To Have Any K!nd Of Relat!on W!th My Darl!ng!~

[07:09] PD: begin\\ I can't say I have any idea what your situation feels like, no. But your personal feelings for Tragedy don't change the fact that you can't control how your matesprit chooses to spend her energy in regards to her other quadrants. //end

[07:11] CT: Ugh, That's Bullsh!t And ! Hate !t~

[07:11] CT: ! Want Her To Be Happy, But W!th Me, Not That Jackass~

[07:14] PD: begin\\ You can hate it all you like, but you still have to adhere to it. //end

[07:17] CT: Hmph~ Whatever~

[07:21] CT: Well, ! Suppose ! Should Applaud You~ Be!ng Able To Tell My Woes To SOmeone Has Calmed My Nerves~

[07:21] PD: begin\\ That's good. If I might offer a further recommendation? //end

[07:22] CT: And What Would That Be?~

[07:23] PD: begin\\ You said you haven't talked to your matesprit about your feelings of betrayal and anger recently. Maybe try that again, especially since you've calmed a little. //end

[07:26] CT: Yes, ! Suppose ! Have To~ ! Came So Close To Break!ng My Prom!se To Her~ Surely Now That !'m Calm, She'll See Reason~

[07:27] PD: begin\\ Let me know how it goes. //end

[07:28] CT: !'ll Be Sure To Keep You !n The Loop~ !'m Loathe To Adm!t !t, But Perhaps Tragedy D!dn't Make A Complete Fool Of H!mself By Enl!st!ng Your Help~

[07:29] CT: Not That You Put Forth Any Actual Effort Unt!l Now~

[07:29] PD: begin\\ Yeah, I dropped the ball on that one. Personal reasons, don't really matter, and don't e><cuse it. //end

[07:30] CT: !'m Glad You Real!ze That You're At Fault~ !t Saves Me The Trouble Of Say!ng So Myself~

[07:30] PD: begin\\ And yet you did anyways. //end

[07:33] CT: Now Then, S!nce !'m No Longer !n The Mood For A Spree K!ll!ng, !'m Done Talk!ng To You~

[07:34] PD: begin\\ Alright. ]-[ave a good rest of your night. //end

[07:35] CT: ! W!ll~

-- capriciousThespian [CT] gave up trolling pharosDweller [PD] --

[berniesrevolution]

IN THESE TIMES

California is setting the agenda for the next generation of Democratic Party politics. And while Tuesday’s primaries saw mixed results for left challengers, and some races won’t be decided for days, that is a big win for the progressive movement.

Last year, the battle between progressives and establishment Democrats for the “soul” of the Democratic Party focused largely around universal health care. That fight goes on, and Medicare for All has become a rallying cry for progressives, but it isn’t the only issue that’s reshaping Democratic politics in California and across the nation.

The Brookings Institution, which has been tracking Democratic campaigns this year, recently published a list of the issues most often talked about by both establishment and progressive Democrats. Healthcare is at the top of both lists while pre K-12 education sits in the top-five for both groups.

The common ground on education is hardly surprising. But there is a twist in California, where the debate has gone beyond the usual, pro forma nod to the importance of early childhood education. It was actually a central issue in the Democratic primaries, gaining strong support from across the spectrum of the Democratic Party.

For example, Gavin Newsom, the establishment Democrat who easily won the most votes in the gubernatorial primary, made support for universal pre-K, along with prenatal care, one of his key campaign promises.

That’s a sharp departure from the current Democratic governor, Jerry Brown, who cites the high costs of universal preschool as a reason not to extend it to all low-income children. California has about 3 million children who are 5 and under, and it has among the highest child poverty rates in the country. In L.A. County, according to KQED, “more than half of babies and toddlers are eligible for state-subsidized care, but only 6 percent are getting it.”

Avo Makdessian, director of the Center for Early Learning at the Silicon Valley Community Foundation, noted that “this is the first time that babies, toddlers, preschoolers are being talked about by the leading candidates for governor and it's really, really exciting.”

In the state legislature, meantime, there’s already strong momentum for change. The California Legislative Women’s Caucus, for example, has recently proposed a billion dollars of new investments in early childhood programs. The likely next governor and the legislature are, at least in their rhetoric, in complete harmony.

Left coast

This pivot matters—and it amounts to a defining moment for the future of Democratic Party—for two reasons, one philosophical and one practical.

First, the battle for the soul of the Democratic Party isn’t just about where candidates stand on particular issues. It’s about whether the party has a broad vision for our politics and for whose interests should be served.

In a political system driven by campaign donations and the influence of wealthy donors and corporate PACs, the interests served are often those of the wealthy and corporations. That’s true among both Democrats and Republicans, and it’s the source of much of the anger among progressives towards the Democratic establishment.

Early childhood education, like universal healthcare, goes right to the heart of this tension. It’s impossible to talk about the issue without talking about who wins and who loses in our political system—and why. “By age 3, as a headline in the Washington Post recently put it bluntly, “inequality is clear. Rich kids attend school. Poor kids stay with a grandparent.”

There are now several decades of research showing the dramatic impact of investments made in the earliest stages of life on individual outcomes. Last year, in summarizing that mountain of research, several scholars noted that, while the quality and content of preschool programs varies widely, the evidence for their overall effectiveness is clear, and “children attending publicly funded pre-kindergarten programs are better prepared for kindergarten than similar children who have not attended pre-k.”

(Continue Reading)

[kadin-harrow]

Catkid meme! Avos and Kadin smolcatte go!

If our characters had a kid together.

I’m gonna cheat since Kadin’s tribe is known for producing multiples. Identical twins!

Name: Phina (as in Menphina) Oryn Harrow, Rhala (as in Rhalg’r) Oryn Harrow

Gender: Girls

General Appearance: Skin a few shades lighter than Kadin’s. They each have the lion-type tail and slightly-sharper-than-a-typical-Keeper’s teeth, like Kadin’s. While they’re identical, there’s some slight variance - both have deep blue hair, but Phina’s has turquoise and green streaks, while Rhala has red streaks. Phina has one blue eye, one yellow-green, while both of Rhala’s are yellow green. Both are very small and stocky, and as they get older, very compact and muscular. Phina keeps her hair in a short pixie cut for practicality’s sake, Rhala dons a long asymmetrical hairdo with one shaved side “to keep people guessing.” About what, it’s hard to say.

Personality: They’re both ten ponze of trouble in a one onze bag. When they’re toddlers Avos and Kadin start to suspect that somehow, even though they’re little babies, their children are actively trying to kill them. Neither of them crawled for more than a week before they stood up and started getting into EVERYTHING. And they’re faster than their parents, the only saving grace is neither could resist the urge to collapse into self-satisfied giggling once some mischief was completed. It’s a miracle they lived through their childhood. Both were biters. Rhala never really outgrew that. Rhala is the instigator of the two. She ran before she could walk. She sees everything as a personal obstacle to be climbed and otherwise destroyed or defeated, living up to her namesake. Phina is a bit more on the reserved and thoughtful side, but when she was little she never hesitated to eat dirt or break valuable object like her sister. In fact, she probably blamed a lot of things on Rhala that she actually did.Phina is conscientious, and always had the heart of a warrior. From a young age, she was very aware of injustice - especially when she saw that people frequently condescend to Kadin when he’s on his own, or openly cringe at Rhala’s odd ways. While it wasn’t demanded of her, she grew up quickly because she felt she needed to be strong - taking to heart that strength should be used to protect the weak.�� She is passionate, quick to anger but also quick to smile. As she grows older she learns how to pick her battles... a little bit. Barely. She never really learns how to chill.Rhala has so little impulse control it’s a bit of a point of concern. Only Phina, and occasionally her parents, are able to talk her out of any idea she gets into her head. Otherwise, if she wants to do it, it’s happening. She becomes very fixated on her goals and tunnel-visions a bit. She’s always there to back Phina up in her (constant) desires to do good but is herself rather oblivious to whatever isn’t currently right in front of her. That being said, these all-or-nothing desires can be dropped at a moment’s notice. Her mercurial temperament makes her an unpopular child, but as she becomes a teenager, she becomes kind of a poster child for rebellion and winds up having a bit of a fanclub from fellow kids who want to care as little as she does.

Special Talents: Much to their parents delight, both children are prodigies with the sword. Phina utilizes a more traditional style of swordplay, perfectly mimicking Avos’s style, where Rhala combines the swordplay with Kadin’s mixed martial arts, creating her own unpredictable, unique style that utilizes her entire body (think Mugen from Samurai Champloo). Rhala has an iron stomach and a slight resistance to poison. We know this because she’s constantly ingesting things that no living being should ingest, even into young adulthood, just out of curiosity.

Who they like better: Regardless of what Kadin and Avos are to each other when the twins are born (if they ever were anything more than a one night stand), Kadin would insist Avos be part of their life and encourage co-parenting. Thus, I imagine they have a similar measure of affection for both parents, who both seem the type who would like to play and spend time with their kids. When they were little Kadin was the favorite because he didn’t really care about things like bedtimes or homework, and his spontaneous nature and manner made him feel more like a best friend than a parent. Kadin is a big proponent of letting the children learn their lesson through real-world consequences. He’s still Rhala’s favorite because she always prefers to just be allowed to do whatever she wants even if it blows up in her face. Phina, however, grew closer to Avos through the sword training, and more admiring of Avos who behaved a lot more like an adult around them. Phina also has a very close relationship with her aunt Pelhi, one of Kadin’s older sisters who left the tribe.

Who they take after more: Phina takes more after Avos, though Kadin says she takes after Pelhi as well. Rhala takes after Kadin - she’s basically Kadin crossed with a thunderstorm and even less care for manners, no matter how much anyone tries to teach her otherwise.

Personal Headcanon: Phina is older, and while she gets into trouble she’s a bit more responsible, too. It drives her crazy, but she’s the one who inherited Kadin’s issues with reading and direction, though since she was educated with that in mind at a young age, she handles it much better. She hates that Rhala has no issues of the sort but is bored by books and unconcerned with her location. It was not fun under the circumstance that they got turned around somewhere without Avos present, and they had to depend on Rhala to get home.

Thanks for the ask @garlean-confessions !

[michaelfallcon]

Invasion Of The Coffee Snatchers

“There’s another one! What is that, like, the fifth one this month?” Lew said as she and Bobbie drove passed the newest location for Stepford Coffee Roasters.

“They’re buying up all the struggling coffee shops. They must be doing something right, though. Do you ever remember seeing a line like that when it was a Jolt?” Bobbie replied.

“You mean, like, yesterday? How did they even get the signage up that fast?”

“Australian ingenuity.”

“What does that even mean?” Lew asked incredulously.

“You have to hand it to the Aussies. They didn’t create the flat white or avocado toast, but that hasn’t stopped them from acting like they did. They’ve rode that popularity all the way to the top of the coffee culture food chain.”

“So every time some asshole mashes half an avocado on a piece of bread I’m supposed to shit myself with gratitude.”

“Australian ingenuity.”

“Australian ingenuity,” Lew conceded. “They replaced the old Shocks. No more Shocks.”

“Yeah but who even went there anyway?”

“I did!”

“I think it’s great. The coffee scene was getting stale. We needed some new blood to perk things up a bit.”

“Feel that way now?” Lew asked a smirk, pointing as the pair drove past yet another new Stepford shop.

“Oh HELL no! Not Insomnia!”

Like a lot of baristas in town, Bobbie had gotten their start in coffee at Insomnia. It wasn’t a specialty shop by any stretch—it sold more frappes than lattes by a large margin—but the late-night cafe held a special place in the local coffee scene’s heart. It was an institution.

“Turn around. We’re going in.” Bobbie demanded. They were incensed at the audacity. Lew’s righteous anger had transformed into the sort of smug self-satisfaction you can only get when telling your best friend “told ya so.”

“I think it’s great. We needed some new blood.”

“Don’t do that. Just turn the car around.”

Pulling into the parking lot, Bobbie and Lew barely recognize the building that was once the beloved hangout. Insomnia was like a time machine that transported you back into a late ‘90s coffee shop: dingy, with poorly-drawn murals adorning each of the dark-colored walls, bulletin boards full of flyers, some from years ago. (That Mumford & Sons cover band never found their banjo player, but four of the flyer’s tabs containing contact information had been removed at least.)

But Insomnia was gone now, the wall of syrups, the rickety stage for tragicomic open mic nights, the grinder with the little piece of plastic screwed into it keeping the baristas from adjusting the grind size, all of it. And in its place stood the hyper-white, overexposed, clean to the point of sterile Stepford Coffee. The only thing left unchanged was the owner, Jim Childress, a Gen X burnout still trying (and failing) at his whole “Ethan Hawke in Slackers” look.

Bobbie and Lew stood in the doorway of the Stepford nee Insomnia, mouths agape. Jim spied his ex-employee and ran right over.

“Isn’t it great?!” Jim beamed.

“Love what you did with the place, J Man,” Lew said, chronically incapable of not needling Bobbie.

“This is a disgrace, James,” Bobbie stated sternly. They always called him James when they were upset with him, as they often were when under his employ.

“Oh c’mon, Bobbie, this place needed a change. Just give it a shot. Take a seat and I’ll send Audrey over to take your order.”

“There’s table service now?!” Bobbie was nonplussed.

Lew and Bobbie took a seat at one of the few available tables—all brand new—and waited for Audrey to come take their order.

“At least they kept some of the staff. This place just wouldn’t be the same without Audrey,” Bobbie said, and they were right. Audrey was about two decades into her Hot Topic phase and she was kind of the gatekeeper at Insomnia; once Audrey was something other than standoffish to you, you knew you were in.

“How did they get all that nasty old paint off the walls?” Bobbie wondered to no one in particular.

“Australian ingen…”

“Don’t.”

“Oy bruvs, can I getcha an avo smash and a flatty?”

“We’re good tha…” Lew’s words trailed as she looked up to see Audrey. But not the Audrey she remembered. A different Audrey, bedecked in a crisp white dress shirt and a fresh pair of jeans under a leather trimmed denim apron. The non-descript Oceanic affect was new as well. So was the vapid smile.

“What did they do to you?” Bobbie asked.

“It’s pretty great, huh? So what’ll it be? Tables are for paying customers only.”

“Just a coffee.”

“Same,” said Lew.

“Right now on filter we have a washed Yirgacheffe, a honeyed Costa Rica, and if you want to try some kinda wild, we have an anaerobic g-g-g-g-g-g-esh-ur-ur-ur.” Audrey’s head began to kick repeatedly to the side, her face contorting with each spasm. As the tics continued to get stronger, Jim ran over to usher Audrey to the back.

“Sorry about that, the staff has been under a lot of stress learning the new menu so fast. Come along, Audrey, let’s go take a quick break.”

“Is she ok?” Lew asked.

“She’ll be fine. Still working out the kinks. Did I hear y’all wanted to try the Gesha?”

“Forget it,” Bobbie said, “our shifts start pretty soon. We should probably go.”

“I hear Stepford just bought Man-O-War. We’ll all be in the same coffee family again!” Jim said to Bobbie with a sheepish grin. Bobbie’s face grew ashen. How could Man-O-War, their beloved coffee shop they had devoted so many years of their life to up and sell out like that? It’s not like it was even struggling.

“Come on, Bobbie, we’re gonna be late,” Lew said, concerned.

Back in the car, the two drove silently towards Man-O-War, wondering if there was any truth to Jim’s revelation.

“They can’t, right?” Lew asks, breaking a silence in that ten-minute car ride that felt like hours.

“Jim’s full of shit,” Bobbie spits, trying to convince themself as much as they were Lew.

“Only one way to find out.”

As Lew and Bobbie headed behind the counter at Man-O-War to clock in, Bobbie sees Andrew, the owner, shaking hands with a handsome 50-something man in a Stepford Coffee Roasters logoed shirt.

“What’s going on here? Who’s that?” Bobbie demands.

“This is Steve Hogan. He’s with Stepford Coffee Roasters.”

“And why is he here? You’ve let the devil in your home, Andrew.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything just yet but I guess the cat is out of the bag,” Andrew said. “We partnering with Stepford Coffee to make some updates to this place. It’s going to increase efficiency. We think you’re really going to like them.”

“You mean you sold out,” Bobbie says.

“It’s more like a collaboration.”

“So this’ll still be Man-O-War?” Lew interjects, hoping to deescalate the situation.

“No, we’re rebranding as a Stepford, but there will…”

“Screw this, I’m outta here. I quit,” Bobbie fumes.

“What?! Bobbie, you can’t walk out and leave me to work the shift alone!” Lew pleads.

“Come with me then. There are still shops in this town that have a soul.”

“I… I can’t. I need this paycheck. It’ll still Man-O-War, at least for a while, right? We can look for something else together.”

“Not to me it isn’t. I can’t be here right now. I’ll walk home.”

“Let ‘em go,” Andrew said to Lew. “I think you may change your mind about this place once you see what your pay is going to be once we’re a Stepford.”

“I’m sorry, Bobz, I have to stay.”

“Fine, but call me after your shift. We need to talk about this.”

“Bye Bobbie.”

“Fuck off, Andrew.”

Hours pass and no word from Lew. Man-O-War would have closed three hours ago now and still nothing. She’s not picking up her phone either. Alone, newly-unemployed, and life in general disarray from the day’s events, Bobbie drinks themself to sleep while watching the last episode of Lodge 49 that they were supposed to be watching with Lew.

The next morning, hung over, angry, and under-caffeinated, Bobbie decides to head up to Man-O-War to see what Lew’s deal is. But upon arriving, it’s no longer Man-O-War. All the signage has overnight been changed to Stepford.

This is all too weird. The bones of the shop remind Bobbie of their former employer, but everything else about it is a clone of what Insomnia became. Andrew spots Bobbie and heads to meet them.

“I just want to talk to Lew and then I’ll leave,” Bobbie interjects before Andrew can say a word.

“No problem. Take a seat and I’ll have her come over and take your order.”

“Table service? Ugh”

Bobbie sits at the nearest open table, their eyes darting around the building wondering how all these changes were made so quickly. Whatever it was they loved—or thought they loved—about what this place used to be is gone.

“Fancy a flatty?” a semi-Australian voice said.

Bobbie’s lip begins to quiver as they look up to see the origin of the question.

“Or maybe you’d prefer a filter. If you want to try some kinda wild, we have an anaerobic g-g-g-g-g-g-esh-esh…”

Bobbie’s eyes fill with tears as Andrew comes over to usher the server away.

“We’ll still working out the glitches,” Andrew says to Bobbie, stricken motionless with panic and sadness.

“Did I hear you wanted to try the Gesha?”

Zac Cadwalader is the managing editor at Sprudge Media Network and a staff writer based in Dallas. Read more Zac Cadwalader on Sprudge.

The post Invasion Of The Coffee Snatchers appeared first on Sprudge.

Invasion Of The Coffee Snatchers published first on https://medium.com/@LinLinCoffee

[shebreathesslowly]

Invasion Of The Coffee Snatchers

“There’s another one! What is that, like, the fifth one this month?” Lew said as she and Bobbie drove passed the newest location for Stepford Coffee Roasters.

“They’re buying up all the struggling coffee shops. They must be doing something right, though. Do you ever remember seeing a line like that when it was a Jolt?” Bobbie replied.

“You mean, like, yesterday? How did they even get the signage up that fast?”

“Australian ingenuity.”

“What does that even mean?” Lew asked incredulously.

“You have to hand it to the Aussies. They didn’t create the flat white or avocado toast, but that hasn’t stopped them from acting like they did. They’ve rode that popularity all the way to the top of the coffee culture food chain.”

“So every time some asshole mashes half an avocado on a piece of bread I’m supposed to shit myself with gratitude.”

“Australian ingenuity.”

“Australian ingenuity,” Lew conceded. “They replaced the old Shocks. No more Shocks.”

“Yeah but who even went there anyway?”

“I did!”

“I think it’s great. The coffee scene was getting stale. We needed some new blood to perk things up a bit.”

“Feel that way now?” Lew asked a smirk, pointing as the pair drove past yet another new Stepford shop.

“Oh HELL no! Not Insomnia!”

Like a lot of baristas in town, Bobbie had gotten their start in coffee at Insomnia. It wasn’t a specialty shop by any stretch—it sold more frappes than lattes by a large margin—but the late-night cafe held a special place in the local coffee scene’s heart. It was an institution.

“Turn around. We’re going in.” Bobbie demanded. They were incensed at the audacity. Lew’s righteous anger had transformed into the sort of smug self-satisfaction you can only get when telling your best friend “told ya so.”

“I think it’s great. We needed some new blood.”

“Don’t do that. Just turn the car around.”

Pulling into the parking lot, Bobbie and Lew barely recognize the building that was once the beloved hangout. Insomnia was like a time machine that transported you back into a late ‘90s coffee shop: dingy, with poorly-drawn murals adorning each of the dark-colored walls, bulletin boards full of flyers, some from years ago. (That Mumford & Sons cover band never found their banjo player, but four of the flyer’s tabs containing contact information had been removed at least.)

But Insomnia was gone now, the wall of syrups, the rickety stage for tragicomic open mic nights, the grinder with the little piece of plastic screwed into it keeping the baristas from adjusting the grind size, all of it. And in its place stood the hyper-white, overexposed, clean to the point of sterile Stepford Coffee. The only thing left unchanged was the owner, Jim Childress, a Gen X burnout still trying (and failing) at his whole “Ethan Hawke in Slackers” look.

Bobbie and Lew stood in the doorway of the Stepford nee Insomnia, mouths agape. Jim spied his ex-employee and ran right over.

“Isn’t it great?!” Jim beamed.

“Love what you did with the place, J Man,” Lew said, chronically incapable of not needling Bobbie.

“This is a disgrace, James,” Bobbie stated sternly. They always called him James when they were upset with him, as they often were when under his employ.

“Oh c’mon, Bobbie, this place needed a change. Just give it a shot. Take a seat and I’ll send Audrey over to take your order.”

“There’s table service now?!” Bobbie was nonplussed.

Lew and Bobbie took a seat at one of the few available tables—all brand new—and waited for Audrey to come take their order.

“At least they kept some of the staff. This place just wouldn’t be the same without Audrey,” Bobbie said, and they were right. Audrey was about two decades into her Hot Topic phase and she was kind of the gatekeeper at Insomnia; once Audrey was something other than standoffish to you, you knew you were in.

“How did they get all that nasty old paint off the walls?” Bobbie wondered to no one in particular.

“Australian ingen…”

“Don’t.”

“Oy bruvs, can I getcha an avo smash and a flatty?”

“We’re good tha…” Lew’s words trailed as she looked up to see Audrey. But not the Audrey she remembered. A different Audrey, bedecked in a crisp white dress shirt and a fresh pair of jeans under a leather trimmed denim apron. The non-descript Oceanic affect was new as well. So was the vapid smile.

“What did they do to you?” Bobbie asked.

“It’s pretty great, huh? So what’ll it be? Tables are for paying customers only.”

“Just a coffee.”

“Same,” said Lew.

“Right now on filter we have a washed Yirgacheffe, a honeyed Costa Rica, and if you want to try some kinda wild, we have an anaerobic g-g-g-g-g-g-esh-ur-ur-ur.” Audrey’s head began to kick repeatedly to the side, her face contorting with each spasm. As the tics continued to get stronger, Jim ran over to usher Audrey to the back.

“Sorry about that, the staff has been under a lot of stress learning the new menu so fast. Come along, Audrey, let’s go take a quick break.”

“Is she ok?” Lew asked.

“She’ll be fine. Still working out the kinks. Did I hear y’all wanted to try the Gesha?”

“Forget it,” Bobbie said, “our shifts start pretty soon. We should probably go.”

“I hear Stepford just bought Man-O-War. We’ll all be in the same coffee family again!” Jim said to Bobbie with a sheepish grin. Bobbie’s face grew ashen. How could Man-O-War, their beloved coffee shop they had devoted so many years of their life to up and sell out like that? It’s not like it was even struggling.

“Come on, Bobbie, we’re gonna be late,” Lew said, concerned.

Back in the car, the two drove silently towards Man-O-War, wondering if there was any truth to Jim’s revelation.

“They can’t, right?” Lew asks, breaking a silence in that ten-minute car ride that felt like hours.

“Jim’s full of shit,” Bobbie spits, trying to convince themself as much as they were Lew.

“Only one way to find out.”

As Lew and Bobbie headed behind the counter at Man-O-War to clock in, Bobbie sees Andrew, the owner, shaking hands with a handsome 50-something man in a Stepford Coffee Roasters logoed shirt.

“What’s going on here? Who’s that?” Bobbie demands.

“This is Steve Hogan. He’s with Stepford Coffee Roasters.”

“And why is he here? You’ve let the devil in your home, Andrew.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything just yet but I guess the cat is out of the bag,” Andrew said. “We partnering with Stepford Coffee to make some updates to this place. It’s going to increase efficiency. We think you’re really going to like them.”

“You mean you sold out,” Bobbie says.

“It’s more like a collaboration.”

“So this’ll still be Man-O-War?” Lew interjects, hoping to deescalate the situation.

“No, we’re rebranding as a Stepford, but there will…”

“Screw this, I’m outta here. I quit,” Bobbie fumes.

“What?! Bobbie, you can’t walk out and leave me to work the shift alone!” Lew pleads.

“Come with me then. There are still shops in this town that have a soul.”

“I… I can’t. I need this paycheck. It’ll still Man-O-War, at least for a while, right? We can look for something else together.”

“Not to me it isn’t. I can’t be here right now. I’ll walk home.”

“Let ‘em go,” Andrew said to Lew. “I think you may change your mind about this place once you see what your pay is going to be once we’re a Stepford.”

“I’m sorry, Bobz, I have to stay.”

“Fine, but call me after your shift. We need to talk about this.”

“Bye Bobbie.”

“Fuck off, Andrew.”

Hours pass and no word from Lew. Man-O-War would have closed three hours ago now and still nothing. She’s not picking up her phone either. Alone, newly-unemployed, and life in general disarray from the day’s events, Bobbie drinks themself to sleep while watching the last episode of Lodge 49 that they were supposed to be watching with Lew.

The next morning, hung over, angry, and under-caffeinated, Bobbie decides to head up to Man-O-War to see what Lew’s deal is. But upon arriving, it’s no longer Man-O-War. All the signage has overnight been changed to Stepford.

This is all too weird. The bones of the shop remind Bobbie of their former employer, but everything else about it is a clone of what Insomnia became. Andrew spots Bobbie and heads to meet them.

“I just want to talk to Lew and then I’ll leave,” Bobbie interjects before Andrew can say a word.

“No problem. Take a seat and I’ll have her come over and take your order.”

“Table service? Ugh”

Bobbie sits at the nearest open table, their eyes darting around the building wondering how all these changes were made so quickly. Whatever it was they loved—or thought they loved—about what this place used to be is gone.

“Fancy a flatty?” a semi-Australian voice said.

Bobbie’s lip begins to quiver as they look up to see the origin of the question.

“Or maybe you’d prefer a filter. If you want to try some kinda wild, we have an anaerobic g-g-g-g-g-g-esh-esh…”

Bobbie’s eyes fill with tears as Andrew comes over to usher the server away.

“We’ll still working out the glitches,” Andrew says to Bobbie, stricken motionless with panic and sadness.

“Did I hear you wanted to try the Gesha?”

Zac Cadwalader is the managing editor at Sprudge Media Network and a staff writer based in Dallas. Read more Zac Cadwalader on Sprudge.

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