#its a shit show and very unfair but also like. the groups are just trying their best

[ghostiewriter]

Im sorry I have to come to someone and talk about this part of the season (and all the season tbh). And Im going very in detail so sorry in advance

1) JJ family plot ???? Im so sorry but FIRST how JJ Maybank would even TRUST so easily Luke’s word no let me say how he would EVEN TRUST CHANDLERS???? Like are we talking about the same JJ??? At this point I knew the writers forgot their character trait like…JJ still going into Larissas grave made me roll and choke HE WOULD NEVER like in that invasive he would have call the shit of Chandler but mmm NO

2) the LACK of comfort or confrontation from Kiara?? Ive been noticing how less of a character the writers had given her since s3 BUT i understood the dynamic in that season seeing as she had to put her guard down so JJ could trust and go forward his feelings BUT THIS SEASON?? Im so MAD like what do you mean JJ tells her about his dilemma and she DOESNT SAYS A WORD?? NO COMFORT? NO HUG, KISS?? ANYTHING? How is it that his so call boyfriend has a literal IDENTITY CRISIS but she is worrier with Sarahs pregnancy (that friendship was the only thing that I cant save about this and its not even comforting) HOW IS THAT JJ can make all that stupid bullshit (that is so ooc btw) and SHE DOESNT SAYS ANYTHING?? Are you telling me she wouldnt be the first to find something fishy about a so call new dad of JJ’s?? Of Lukes word?? Wouldnt try to make any sense in JJ? Im sorry but they wrote her so DULL and with 0 personality like where is the character I felt in love with? JJ giving a fuck of Kiaras being literally put in a freezer, JJ treating Kie as she was a burden, Rafe being with them, not saying to Rafe to take care of Kiara while he was going to climb?? Him or Kiara running into each other arms after JJ and Sarah missing? I know this show isnt Jiara’s only show but they are best friends and lovers in case the writers forgot they had to interact as anything similar. Like any reaction of any of them would be good like Pope nor Cleo getting a thank god you are alive?? What a mess honestly

This being said they gave a lot of her traits to Cleo too because they can’t write women personalities in that room even if they had a fun pointing at them: sarcastic, cook, knowing about boats?? I love Cleo i really do she is an Icon but i guess they didnt know how to build two great poc women

Also the LACK of girls having the iniciative or the getting the resource or looking for the problem or finding the answer? (ik sarah has her scenes but they downgrade her as a mother like her only plot in this part was being pregnant and worried about that and its just SO unfair) like when Pope, John B and Kie are on the boat and the storm is hitting are you telling me Kiara didnt have ANY knowledge?? Kiara “you cant make anything without me” Carrera??? What do you mean?? And its the only scene that i can recall but there were so much more!

3) Sarahs pregnancy storyline is a JOKE and I write it with capitals buy it deserves bigger letters. Letting Pope and Cleo out, Rafe not saying a word, JJs reaction i mean… this are not the same characters and its so sad

4) Pope and Cleo being so distant of the pogues. What the heck was the whole military thing?? By the end I felt such a disconection with them and the rest.

5) WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU KILL JJ AFTER ALL THE ABUSE AND THAT SHITTY STORYLINE OF LUKE NOT BEING HIS FATHER AND NOT KNOWING ANYTHING ABOUT HIS BIOLOGICAL ONES (ESPECIALLY HIS MOTHER FOR GOD SAKES) it honestly feels so DISRESPECTFUL FOR THE CHARACTER and I dont care if it were the writers or Rudy himself I want them all in a stick for allowing it. Its simply not right what a downgrade I cant believe it honestly.

The lack of scenes with JJ and the rest of the pogues (including Kiara) made his dead nothing special like are you telling me the first time he says I love you to Kie is when he is dying???? In WHAT UNIVERSE? Pope, John B and Kiara functioning after his death?? Are we talking about the same group from season 1 &2???

I dont think i finished with all my rambling probably forgot a LOT but im so pissed because for a moment I didnt believe JJ’s death theory but at one point in part 2 I really tought that maybe it could happen because nothing of his character was making ANY SENSE

He did stupid bullshit but was always so kind hearted and selfless. He was abused his entire life and loved her friends fierceless. He DESERVED so much more than what they gave him and im so MAD because he deserved to end up happy on his surf trip like DID THEY FORGOT ABOUT ALL OF THAT?? How in the world would you say that it was JJs storyline since season 1??? Its bullshit like the fucking storyline about his biological parents or whatsoever.

Im so sorry for the fans and the people who watched and had it as a comfort show. I cant believe what a lot of bad writing and unprofessional actor can do to a beloved show. I mean what do you mean you couldnt share romantics scenes with your cast mate?? Its so beyond the drama at this point I really never care about it if the job was done and deliver and now we can say Rudy cant get shit done and its such a shame.

I would want to say I will be watching next season but I would me lying so I will turn to fanfics instead (just like I was doing since s3). Thats canon for me now!! With whis I also want to thank every fanfic writer in Jiaras fandom because they all gave everything to build this world even better than the writers could and I hope you still write for them because they could have just been the greatest ship of all and I think they still are! Because after all Jiara is a fan’s ship and we create the rules for them!

i have nothing to add because everything you stated in here is facts💅

[teamskull-datingsim]

okay just for my own sake heres my relationships with the undertale cast.

for context: in jeremytale, as im calling it, the Player latches onto me instead of frisk but frisk is still there. and killing someone is never a possibility. the dialogue options, whether mean or sarcastic, are something I myself would say regardless of being possessed by an Entity

frisk: thats a little sibling if ive ever seen one holy shit. in general i think theyre a cute kid and i think they look up to me but also theyre full of sass and love to backtalk (back sign??) me

chara: another little sibling. I love narrachara theory and it carries over. little dead guy (nonbinary) and their strange living cohort. chara voice Fun fact! If I was alive, I'd be your age! jeremy voice Thats really depressing dead kid

flowey: little sibling number threeee jesus christ. yes he hates me yes if something bad happens to me he will try and hurt the person who did it!! i just think hes a weird flower... until i learn the truth obviously. i try to be supportive but hes kind of a stinker

toriel: "wow this is. a bigger human than im used to having fallen here. Whatever still my child." i think shes awesome and i would love to hug her. however i do think i remind her of chara and asriel for time until she realizes that comparing me to either of them is unfair to everyone. im still her child though. Goat Mother

sans: he goes between "i need to avoid this guy at all fucking costs" and "hey it's not that bad. hes just autistic. thats cool". I do get mad at him frequently for patronizing papyrus (and he tries to do it to me too but i am not above threatening him). on the surface we relax with each other quite a bit. Especially when he realizes that me and papyrus are a good match. and also when he stops babying his brother lol

papyrus: man. cmon. you know this. i do think itd be funny that if i ever actually made jeremytale the outcome of the papyrus fight will always be the dating segment no matter what the player has me do. compliment him? "hey buddy i like your scarf! i have one just like it" "Y-YOU... SUCH A SINCERE TONE! ARE YOU... FLIRTING WITH ME?!?!" ".What". intimidate him? "(*You stand up to your full height and look down on Papyrus.)" "W-WOWIE... TRYING TO SHOW ME YOUR IMPRESSIVE STATURE... ARE YOU... FLIRTING WITH ME!?" "huh." just straight up spare him? "S-SO MYSTERIOUS AND STOIC... YOU MUST BE TRYING TO IMPRESS ME... YOURE FLIRTING?!" "WHAT!!!!!!!"

undyne: at first she hates me but once i get the undyne hang out we are. Basically siblings. she thinks me and papyrus are great and we become a trio of it. she loves noogieing me because i actually put up a fight. i also confront Her on babying papyrus but i think she already knows its bad. i also think she is so funny. most forgetful fish on the planet. WHY DIDNT YOU SIGN YOUR LETTER

alphys: im so cool to her when shes just watching my journey but when we meet face to face she quickly realizes im just as much of a dork as her. we're best friends

mettaton: i am so quirky and funny to him not in a patronizing way but like. That one video of "(excited voice) How do you keep your pants up when you perform, its incredible!" "....... belt". of course once i see EX its like. of course you have black hair and pronouns. unparalleled friend group of me, papyrus, undyne, alphys and mettaton

asgore: he is so. he thinks im an odd chap but mostly very polite and sweet. reminds him of chara much like toriel and makes him very sentimental. hes not really a dad to me but i do think he enjoys my company

[whiskeyswifty]

there's a lot of things fucked up about the ticketmaster eras tour situation but it's been really interesting to see how artists/ticketmaster are handling ticket sales in this fallout, specifically in how it relates to trying to keep out scalpers. to be clear nothing taylor did was wrong. she did the best she could while trying to be fair to as many people as possible and trusting a huge ticketing organization that SHOULD have been able to handle it, but it went so poorly and can only be improved upon. and ticketmaster is not interested in improving so it unfortunately lands on her to pick up the torch. so it's interesting to see how artists watched that shit show and have tried to keep out scalpers more aggressively. recently, how both the national and madonna are quite literally gatekeeping their presales from anyone who isn't an older fan. for madonna, you could only access the first presale if you had been a legacy member of her fanclub for a number of years, so unless the scalper is a longtime madonna fan with the foresight to have signed up 4 years ago, he's not getting in. the national wasn't quite so severe, but they locked their presale BEFORE announcing it, meaning that the day they announced the tour, the cutoff for the fanclub presale sign up was the day before. basically giving anyone who wasn't already in the fanclub zero opportunity to participate in the presale. while this is very effective against scalpers, it's also effective against new fans or casual fans which i suppose makes it controversial in it's "fairness." in not so many words, these presale rules are saying "this tickets are for longtime fans only". but when you're a legacy artist, it's kind of a choice you have to make. a sophie's choice perhaps, as SOMEONE is going to end up with no tickets who wanted tickets, yes. but this method seems the most successful in accomplishing the ultimate goal which is tickets at face value in the hands of fans, not scalpers. those fans will end up being longtime fans for the most part instead of an even spread of new and old fans, but at least they're fans. and as ticketing is increasingly monopolized by ticketmaster, there are only a few things artists can do on their end and from a business standpoint, legacy fans are the core audience and the most important group to prioritize. because when it is a supply/demand issue, people will not get tickets, that's just how it's going to go. that can't be helped. she can't go on tour for 5 years. it'll always be unfair but these new measures seem to be the least unfair to the people that matter most to these artists. not sure what taylor specifically can do since she has no definitive database of core fans like madonna and the national, and verified fan is still run by ticketmaster and did NOT honor boosts/loverfest tickets/etc effectively like it promised. she could go off of spotify streams, which already holds its own presales and has held entire SHOWS for their "1% listeners" bracket of users for a given artist. but that would be her putting her trust in ANOTHER major corporation who seeks to make profit over honoring fans, so a bandaid rather than an actual solution. but still, interesting for her to see what others are doing and maybe think how she can implement similar tactics in the future and ultimately, make some hard but necessary choices. especially interesting to see the artists that have already, and quite easily it seems, made that choice. because doing nothing just means it all goes to scalpers and clearly that's the WORST option, for everyone but the scalpers. lots to think about and i have no answers but i'm curious how this will affect ticketing in the long run and if it'll transform tours to a superfan only space instead of a music discovery egalitarian place. neither is fundamentally good or evil, fair or unfair, it's just how things have to grow and change because they certainly can't stay how they are.

[majoringinsarcasm]

Long rambling post by someone who doesn’t understand a lot of things please ignore thank you

I never have any big sweeping statements to make, and trust me even if not online I’ve been saying in my life how unfair the US government is and how it’s only gotten worse. But it feels so shitty that this is the reality of the average citizen. Most days we try our best. Sometimes our best means living another day on the street because it’s illegal to sleep on benches and inside abandoned buildings and we’re told it’s “that person’s fault” if they’re homeless or poor. We’re told our votes don’t matter by people who haven’t even given up they just either can’t try or they’re an asshole. We have to fight tooth and nail just to keep our heads above water. We are forced to vote for people who frankly I don’t know WHY they run for office.

My brain doesn’t grasp certain things. Politics has always confused me bc as a kid things were simple. But now I see people wanting to be in positions of power who very loudly make it clear who they do and don’t give a shit about and I wonder what the point is. Crowd funding isn’t bad at all but in a lot of cases, medical bills or housing, I feel like people shouldn’t have to beg for the kindness of others. The fucking people in charge and our very system should exist to cater to its citizens. And I mean that.

That’s not saying we shouldn’t work hard but the basics needs of food, drinking and bathing water and shelter should be met for everyone bc NOT having them doesn’t mean you’re a criminal or evil.

We organize marches for all sorts of causes and people get arrested and attacked and have tear gas thrown at them. We have to hear about other counties going through devastation on social media bc if the mainstream media covers it all they won’t give us all the facts just like social media isn’t giving us all the facts. Safety for one group shouldn’t have to mean the destruction of the other. This world is so big and we can learn so much from each other and there are people who will never get to travel away from their home state or country to see that world.

And we watch as people are murdered by governments. We watch as people are killed and stolen from their families. Hate speech is on the rise and celebrities can say insanely wildly racist or antisemitic or Islamophobic or transphobic things. The list goes on. People are cheering for the deaths of all of any given group and these people have power and nobody is checking their ass. A political leader or candidate calling for the death of ALL of a group and calling them animals is unthinkable. People, much like they did with Covid and any Chinese person (or anyone they thought was Asian at all bc those people don’t really care or see a difference) blaming and attacking Jewish people is insane to me. I know this has happened before several times over but I didn’t understand then and I still don’t now. (Also at least in the US the religious people who want to control the government and its people and create laws that benefit them and fuck everyone else starts with a C)

Using the mass killings as an excuse to show your ass and boost your hatred now that you can hide it behind A Good Cause is not the shocking part. It’s the fact that the end result is ultimately up to people who don’t care. Or if they do care they get outvoted. If they don’t want anyone to be killed they have no control over Hamas or the IDF or the United Nations or the president or the prime ministers.

It’s upsetting that there’s not a magic stop all wars and hate and crime button. It’s upsetting that people turn to crime (not mass killings crime but more local shit) because they have nothings else. It’s upsetting that each time there’s a big international attack or war we’re told bullshit about how it’s being handled when it’s not. That we ultimately have to sit and wait and watch others endure or have to watch our neighbors extra carefully lest some asshole with a not so secret agenda tries to kill them as well just for being born who they are.

I know I’m speaking from a place of privilege. From average safety. But from the outside I want people to know (hoping no one actually reads this, this is not a social media site it’s my personal diary) that the hatred looks wrong. It doesn’t make sense and it’s not nor has it ever been justified. I could go on a long fucking rant about how funny I think it is when white non-Jewish Americans name every Palestinian a savage or a terrorist considering how many many mass shooters have been white men specifically. But this isn’t about them.

I want to learn. I want to help people. I want places to change and get better so that wars and killings over territory are no longer needed. Where people can live beside each other without one being oppressed or one fearing a counterattack at any moment. That change can happen. It’s happened before and it will happen again. If nothing else I do hold only hope with razor sharp teeth and peace is not just a word but something can be achieved. I just wish it could happen faster.

[animazi]

hi! this may very well be wording issues on my side (this was written and posted at a rather silly hour), but I am not trying to argue that anakin never had a choice in the matter, or that criticising him for making shit murder-y choices is unfair, I am arguing that I don't think this specifically is a productive discussion because a) we never see anakin in a position where he actively seems to be considering leaving until its functionally too late re the war, and b) leaving the order after shmi's death wouldn't really have prevented his fall (this is, of course, my interpretation of the films - you are welcome to your own)

I will also say my part on the point relevant to my actual argument you've brought up, but i don't plan on taking this discussion further - like I said I think this is fundamentally a very pointless topic of discourse - choosing to do all the murders as a criticism of anakin? yes, I agree, murder is bad and that he did any - bad! but I don't find the 'anakin could have just left the order' argument very useful to an actual discussion of his character.

so, "he could have chosen to leave and the Jedi and a Padme would have easily assisted him and his mom with finding a new life"

there is little to no evidence in mainline canon (films and Disney shows) that supports the assertion that the jedi as a group would have supported him once he left, it just doesn't seem to be their policy.

padme does not know him. she met him for a very short span of time when he was nine, and sure he saves her planet, but then he joins the order, and she next sees him ten years later - nothing in main canon supports the idea that she ever say, tried to rescue shmi, or even really thought about her. by the time anakin and padme are working together in aotc it is too late for shmi right?

I will accept the idea that if shmi didn't die, anakin could probably easily leave the order, marry padme or whatever, and everything would be fine and good, but that is just a concept for a fix it au

again, I am not arguing that anakin never makes literally horrid choices and gets away with genuinely pretty evil stuff, like the tusken massacre, or even that anakin had the final say in deciding to kill children - I agree that those choices fall on him! the reason I brought up palpatine is because I don't think the idea that if anakin left the order and was with padme he wouldn't have fallen is supported by what we see in rots of palpatine and anakin's relationship, and the reasons why anakin falls as given by the film.

icl i fundamentally disagree with the 'oh the acolyte shows anakin could have left the order anyway actually so he's so much worse bc he had an easy way out the whole time' discussions I've been seeing, because, like. literally why is this even a topic of discussion? ok ok hang with me here, I'm doing a list.

there is literally nothing in the prequels that suggests this is ever an option for him. up until shmi's death he is happy with the order - most of the problems he expresses come specifically from his relationship with obi-wan not the jedi generally, so why would he want to leave. once shmi dies, sure I getcha. his mum died and the jedi have a significant hand in that, and then he immediately breaks the code and does a massacre. however, and some may have missed this, its a fairly small plot point, the clone wars begin. anakin is not only never characterised as the sort of guy who would back out of this conflict (esp since he was involved from the get go), but also there is literally no time between anything - aotc and rots take place over such short time spans, comparatively; we see quite literally All the events happening at once.

so why doesn't he quit in tcw/rots? again. there is a war on and he is directly involved. tcw shows him as having made personal connections with the clones, and if there's one thing about anakin that everyone should be able to agree on its that he sure has attachments. also, again, rots takes place over such a short span of time and he is fairly clearly not in the best place in like fucking any of it

it probably wouldn't even fix anything bro. anakin is not the central turning point of the war, not really. that's palpatine. with or without anakin palpatine still gets the war, and realistically if anakin leaves the order then war breaks out, he is going to turn to palpatine as one of the only people he is close to, and ergo probably falls anyway. maybe he doesn't kill the younglings but like. shit still happens, jedi still get order 66'd

No Please Understand One Busy And Isolated Woman Is Not A Full Support Network Stop It. ok so. padme isolation is something that I fully see in the films. I will not yap on about that now, but take it as read for this point (although. even if she has a great and healthy support network that is not the issue! you are still saying that padme, who has a very busy job and her own life regardless, should functionally drop everything to support anakin). a key part of support networks is that they are a network aka not one woman. look me dead in the eyes and think anakin and obi-wan (already not having a great communicative relationship) are still talking after he leaves. go on. try. realistically speaking once the war starts anakin is in an, if anything, worse position - his fatherbrothermentor is out there fighting and he cannot help, his wife is barely home, the senate is always busy, and he is so so jobless (again. here is where palpatine would swoop in...bro cannot win fr fr). and Again, One (1) Padme Should Not Be Responsible For Dealing With The Entirely Of Anakin's Issues. stop it.

I don't actually have a full point 5 rn I just like it when the numbers do this :3

so bonus not-quite point: tcw and the acolyte both explicitly say the jedi don't prep you for the outside world if you leave the order, transferable skills etc etc BUT ALSO does your ex-jedi have any records of employment? any space gcses or a-levels or space degrees? a letter of recommendation? are they actually skilled enough in say mechanics/engineering to be able to survive in a world where droids exist and clearly have a huge presence in those sectors? any any money to help them get a flat or smth (not applicable in anakin's case but worth saying anyway)?

in short. I don't think it's a fair point to make when criticising anakin. it relies on a really weird reading of the prequels that misses a) the war, b) palpatine, c) the inherent misogyny of putting the wellbeing of anakin, guy who is hanging on the same thread as my sanity after exam week, entirely in the hands of one woman, d) the lack of regard for how support networks are, in fact, networks, e) how fast everything happens in the prequels

[husberttee]

Any thoughts on RE-BORN performances: SF9 TBZ iKon?

Anon i will do this for you. I will watch them.

I honestly had given up on the show a little bit and just watched some interactions of the groups. But I'm gonna do it. This answer is gonna be a bit long though :[

SF9: Oh i was VERY positively surprised. Insane stage settings again but this time it for some reason did not feel too overwhelming. Maybe because it went a little slower..? idk. I really liked their version of Stealer!! I feel like the song fits them really well concept wise. They had a good balance of performance aspect and funky theatrics. I think the only things I disliked were the arbitrary lighting during the dance break (couldn't see anything :/) and the amount of fake fighting. I don't mind a little but it has a tendency to look messy real quick. Other than that; I just KNOW they were dying to hold those flame throwers lmaoo bUT THEY ACTUALLY SET A WHOLE MAN ON FIRE ON STAGE WTF anyway I actually really enjoyed this one for the most part even though it was A Lot.

Tbz: First of all I just fucking LOVE o sole mio so i was already looking forward to the performance a liiiittle bit more ngl. So; I became very aware of how they stopped trying to do everything in one take here. Maybe because especially tbz utilized that alot in that other stage with the painted nails lady. Personally I prefer it like this; feels a lot less rushed. I liked their rendition of the song and the concept in itself was cool too. Their shenanigans with the staff were nice! Also props to their backup dancers they were fucking it uuupp!!! The end with the gold glitter was very aesthetically pleasing hhh. There were a lot of details again which I already find hard to remember though. Many of their performance parts were badly lit again. I know all boygroups love dark concepts but i love seeing the performance.

ikon: Their performance was true to themselves and VERY different from the others. Not saying necessarily better though! I'm not sure if they had only a quarter of the budget of the other groups or if they just simply wanted t like this. Practically no theatrics in this one and only performance. Their version of Inception was alright, maybe not necessarily my favourite though. I liked the drop and the dance break at the end was really cool! I could actually see what was going on most of the time so yeah thats nice! Also Bobby and DK really carried the stage just simply by vibing extremely hard and personally there's nothing better than a performer who visibly enjoys their craft. Overall I enjoyed it but same as it is with too many details, having a very small amount or not very noticeable ones can also make a stage forgettable. There were parts of the choreo I really enjoyed, and then there's parts I already don't remember at all.

After watching these I feel like I should give that Ateez stage another try, too. Since it was the first one I watched of the Reborn version it overwhelmed me really badly. Going into the next ones prepared maybe made for some less harsh judgement. Like now I knew they would probably be sort of insane by then lmao. Anway I was overall positively surprised!

I've also seen a lot of people getting hate for voicing their honest opinions?? so im very glad about the chill interactions ive had about the show. thanks for being so civil!~

[on-a-lucky-tide]

(You dont have to answer, I know this is the kind of rant that can bring harassment and leaving it on anon is suspect, so im sorry for that. I just wanted you to know there's at least one other person that agrees with your views and is glad the fandom isnt a monolith. Im just extremelly shy)

Finally watched season 2 and I've decided I'll keep shipping the good Gerlion-influenced Geraskier that lives in my head and disregarding Burn Butcher Burn and most of the canon dynamic and characters entirely.

Im glad I follow you! it's good to see other people agreeing that the song is... evil of Jaskier and tone-deaf of the writers (they do not seem to grasp that witchers are marginalized and what this means for them). It's also motivated me to read more of the books, since Ive only managed to get my hands on the first one but what you've posted about them has me intrigued!

Im also like. Realizing this is the Teen Wolf Experience again: There's very little analysis that can be done in-universe, bc low quality writing and weak characterization are at the heart of most of the issues the characters face and not like, Jaskier being evil on purpose/by accident as a character. It feels unfair to put the song and its consequences on him when there's not going to be consequences bc the writers have not realized it's anything but "and he's mad at Geralt so he wrote a song about it"?? If they'd been going for that it would have taken one line from Lambert to show that's why he's hostile to Jaskier! It'd be dumb that the guy has been doing this for 20+ years and still has to learn to be responsible with his songs so it'd feel ooc anyway if that was his Lesson to Learn This Arc, but whatever, they could have gone that direction. But it's not that, they just dont know what to do with him.

They dont seem to want to commit, either he's the stupid, harmless comic relief everyone shits on or a famous guy affecting witcher PR on the whole continent without asking them what they want. If he'd been mad enough to purposely incite hate towards Geralt he would not have folded after that apology, and if he wasn't that mad and the apology was enough he would maybe have written it in a fit but not?? Made it popular???

And it's not just Jaskier, they do this across the board. They dont know what to do with Geralt, or his relationship with Ciri, or Ciri and Yennefer, and how they're handling Witchers as a group is a mess. It's a shame bc they have a great cast and they have a story and lore and themes (and fan base) with strong bones ready-made, but Netflix has a bad track record doing adaptations do it's not surprising either

I think this can stand on its own, Non.

It's important to have different voices and opinions in fandom. There is always a place for it here if you need a chat about it.

I agree on the cast. They really are trying to present us a banquet when all they were given was ten quid and an out-of-date Greg's voucher.

[morganaspendragonss]

quédate un segundo más (1/8)

@911lonestarangstweek day 8 - t is for...tumour, terminal, treatment

title from voy a quedarme by blas cantó, translates roughly to 'stay a second more'

thanks to @halsteadmarchs and @tarlos-spain for the beta!

as shown above, this will be eight chapters if all goes to plan, and i hope to finish it before season 3 begins. much of what is written both in this chapter and in future ones is ripped directly from life and i am only writing from my own perspective and experiences of losing a loved one to cancer.

ao3 | 1.6k | angst, hurt tk, cancer, terminal illness, more warnings to come in future chapters

A rare genetic mutation.

That’s what the doctors tell him when the results come back.

A rare genetic mutation that has rendered his cancer practically undetectable until its latest stages, until all that’s left to do is wait to die.

TK’s hands shake as various leaflets on Managing Your Diagnosis and What To Expect and Looking After Someone With Cancer are placed in them. He feels two steps to the side of himself, his entire world halting in its tracks the moment those words had left the doctor’s lips.

“I’m afraid it’s not good news,” he’d said, eyes wide and empathetic. “Your scans and blood results have come back showing evidence of a tumour on your pancreas. There are treatment options which we can and will—with your consent—pursue, however I have to inform you that your cancer is entering stage IV. It has begun to spread to your bladder and liver. I’m sorry to say that, at this point, treatment is more focused on managing your pain and making you as comfortable as possible; we do not anticipate recovery.”

It’s just… TK’s fine. He feels fine. Like, sure, he’s been a little more tired recently and he’s been getting these weird pains, but they always fade after a while, and he’s fine.

But he couldn’t deny the blood spotting his pee, the last straw which had finally sent him to the doctor’s office.

Too late, apparently.

A touch on his knee brings him back to reality with a start. TK looks up to meet the doctor’s kind gaze, and he wants to cry.

“I understand this is a lot to take in,” he’s saying. “If you have any questions, please ask.”

“I…” TK shakes his head, swallowing a couple of times before dropping his eyes to his knees, the words on the pamphlets blurred through his tears. “How long?”

The doctor hesitates a moment, then sighs regretfully. “I can’t say for certain. People frequently outlive their projected timeframes; equally, it could be less. However, given the way your tumour looks and the rate it appears to be spreading at, I would estimate around six months.”

Six months.

Six—six months.

“Oh,” TK says, and it feels wildly insufficient but it’s all he has. What even is there to say? He’s dying, and that’s...that’s that.

“Do you have a support system in place?” the doctor asks. “This is going to be a difficult process, and you are going to need other people to help you through it.”

TK nods slowly, not looking up. “M-My husband. Carlos. He was supposed to come with me today but he was called into work last minute. He’s a detective, so he couldn’t exactly refuse—not that that stopped him from trying.” He laughs wetly, remembering how he’d insisted that everything would be fine when Carlos had stalled leaving this morning. “And there’s my dad, and my team—my family. I’m a paramedic and I work in a fire station, so we’re all pretty close. I… Shit, I’m sorry. You don’t need to know all this.”

“It’s okay.” The doctor is still smiling, still so understanding, and TK wonders—just how many times has he had to do this? “I’m glad to hear you have solid support behind you; that’s going to be incredibly important for the coming months. I’ve also given you a few leaflets about support groups you can access, that your family can access, and, of course, your treatment team will be there every step of the way.

“Now,” he continues, returning to a semi-professional aspect, “I want to see you later this week to iron out how we’re going to proceed. For now, why don’t you go home and rest, allow yourself to process this? Does Friday at 10.30 work for your next appointment?”

TK nods absently, clutching the pamphlets tight enough to crease them. “That’s fine,” he whispers.

“Okay,” the doctor says, just as quiet. “Are you going to be okay to get home?”

“Yeah.”

But he doesn’t move. He can’t. In this room, he’s separated from the rest of the world—TK doesn’t want to go back into it, where he’ll have to tell everyone he loves that he’s… That he…

“TK.”

TK’s head snaps up at the doctor’s voice and he flushes a little at seeing his pointed look. “Sorry,” he mutters, scrambling to stand up.

The doctor stands too, much more gracefully than TK, and gets the door for him. “It’s okay. I’ll see you on Friday, TK, alright?”

He mumbles an affirmative then steps out of the office, taken aback for a moment by the bustle and noise in the corridor. It’s strange to witness it now, to see all these people who don’t know him from Adam going about their lives, while his has, in the span of thirty minutes, completely crumbled.

TK takes a deep breath (and how many of those does he have left?) and joins the flow.

*

He’s home.

That’s… He doesn’t remember it. He must have unlocked the front door because the keys are in his hand and he’s standing in the entryway, but TK has no idea how he managed to get from the doctor’s office to here.

He made good time though, judging by the clock on the wall.

Small victories.

With heavy steps, TK walks to the sofa, easing himself down and tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. It still doesn’t feel real that there's this—this thing inside him, growing and mutating and killing him. He’s not sure when it finally will.

Maybe in a few months, when his skin is sagging off his bones and his hair is gone and even the very act of breathing is a challenge.

Or maybe in a few hours, when Carlos comes home and TK has to break the news. TK can picture his face now, the way his ever-present smile will crack and break, the shock and hurt and grief that will take its place.

He thinks he understands his dad now.

TK closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind, just for a moment, of everything that’s happened today.

Which, as it turns out, is a mistake, because that’s when he remembers the letter that came for them yesterday and the phone call they’re going to make after dinner.

The phone call they were going to make after dinner.

TK wants to scream at the unfairness of it all. They’ve been waiting for that moment for so long, the moment in which they found out they were finally cleared to adopt a kid. And now…

Gone.

Carlos is going to be crushed.

As if the universe is reacting to that last thought, the door suddenly swings open, marking Carlos’s return from his impromptu shift. For a moment, TK panics. He’s not ready, dammit, he needs more time to plan and to figure it all out, how he feels and what he’s going to say, but—

But, in the end, it doesn’t matter. He could have had the most detailed and well-thought out plan in the world and it wouldn’t have mattered.

Because all it takes is one look at Carlos’s smile for TK to fall apart.

Carlos is by his side in an instant, gathering him in his arms and sliding to the floor with him when TK can no longer support himself on the couch. TK fists his hands in his husband’s shirt and cries into his neck, all the emotion that’s been slowly building all day exploding from him all at once.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Carlos shushes, which only makes TK cry harder, because how is he supposed to tell him that it’s not?

He shakes his head and clings onto him tighter, feeling Carlos do the same to him in return. TK’s always felt safe in his arms and it’s no different now; he thinks that, if he can just stay here forever, maybe things will turn out okay after all.

But the moment ends, as they tend to do. When TK’s sobs have run dry, Carlos carefully pulls back from him, his hands rising to cup his face and wipe the tears from his cheeks.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, so much worry in those damn eyes that it hurts. “Is it… Did the doctor say something? Are you okay?”

TK opens his mouth, but the words refuse to come out. All he manages is a wordless shake of the head, and even that turns Carlos’s expression into the picture of devastation. He can’t bear to look at it, so he wraps his arms around Carlos’s waist and leans into him again, resting his head on his chest.

Carlos holds him and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “We’ll get through it,” he promises. “Whatever it takes.”

And it turns out that he does have a few more tears left in him; TK squeezes his eyes shut and breathes out shakily as a couple of lone drops fall down his cheeks. “We can’t,” he whispers hoarsely. Carlos stiffens and shifts as if to look TK in the eyes, but TK doesn’t let him. If he has to look at Carlos, he doesn’t think he’ll have the courage to say it. He hesitates a moment longer, a huge lump forming in his throat, but eventually he manages it.

“It’s cancer,” he chokes out. “Stage IV. Incurable. They think… I’ve got six months.”

It’s like time stops.

They’re both motionless on the floor of their front room, neither saying anything, barely breathing as the weight of it settles between them.

TK doesn’t know how long it lasts for, but suddenly Carlos sobs and grips onto him with a bruising strength. Carlos’s body heaves and shakes with the force of his cries, and it’s TK’s turn to hold him as tears drip down Carlos’s cheeks into his hair.

And, in that moment, it becomes real.

[tyrannuspitch]

i was going to say this in a reblog of another post but it’s a new thought i’m forming so i think it needs its own space:

not only do TERFs target transmasc people, not only do they try to recruit and convert us by taking advantage of the fact that many of us feel alienated from mainstream “trans inclusive” feminism... they also play a pretty big part in spreading the attitudes that make us feel alienated in the first place.

they’re not the only ones saying or implying these things, but they’re definitely a driving force behind ideas like “being trans make you a misogynist [either a traitor or an invader]”, “transgender men are trying to take over women’s spaces and discussions of misogyny”, “maleness and masculinity are inherently violent”, and “misogyny is the Truest Oppression and all men are enemies of progress who don’t need our solidarity.”

in TERF spaces this very binary, essentialist understanding of gender is used against trans women, but in “trans inclusive” spaces people often think they’ve got the “legitimate” version because they’re not misgendering anyone, they’re using it against trans men. 

so, people speak over our lived experiences to tell us that we have some abstract “transmasc privilege” and “can’t understand misogyny” because... Trans Men Are Men, right? ideology demands we see trans people as exactly the same as cis people of their gender, even though that’s not remotely what transphobes do. and even if that means the dominant narrative of transmasculinity becomes completely detached from the reality of most trans men’s lived experience.

what’s actually happening here is that people are erasing transphobia’s significance as an axis of oppression, but since these people are claiming to be trans-inclusive, that’s not necessarily clear. so you put up with that gaslighting for as long as you can, but eventually, you’re sick of it. you feel like mainstream feminism is completely unfair to you and probably full of shit, and you’re primed for manipulation and self-doubt.

and then TERFs show up, and at last, someone is saying “just identifying as a man does not translate to male privilege”, someone is saying “sometimes you experience sexism based on your anatomy or appearance and being trans doesn’t stop that”, someone is saying you’re not the enemy, you’re their ally. finally, someone seems to be on your side. 

unfortunately, they’re also saying you’re their sister. but at this point, you’ve heard so often that men are evil and that “male experiences” are something completely unrecognisable to you, that you’re not sure there’s even an alternative viewpoint. you’ve been taught so much shame and guilt for your trans identity, and you’re not sure that you can even experience transphobia and be a real man.

TL;DR, they basically:

encourage feminists, “trans-inclusive” or not, to guilt trans people for being trans and invalidate our experiences with transphobia, on the basis of essentialist “men are scum” thinking

present themselves as trans men’s rescuers by telling us all our experiences with transphobia are just misogyny, and we don’t have to be evil men because our trans identity isn’t actually real

it’s... kind of like that abusive tactic where the abuser spreads rumours about their victim to try and convince the victim they’re the only one “on their side”. except possibly more. it’s ridiculously sinister, to the point where i find it hard to believe it was planned, exactly, but however it came to be... this is what’s happening.

(and of course, as always, i am NOT defending transmascs who are transmisogynistic (or, for that matter, transphobic in general.) i’m describing a path by which TERFs attempt (often unsuccessfully) to recruit transmasc people, and because they’re an anti-trans hate group, it’s fundamentally abusive and the end goal is conversion to cisness. but if you get to the point of joining the hate group, attacking other trans people and even recruiting other members, you have to take some responsibility for that. it’s not okay.)

[cinnaminsvga]

🤬 | seokjin

the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired

→ frenemy!seokjin ft. e2l and the magnificent get-along sweater | 2K words → a/n: this is dedicated to my homie @jincherie​ who has been, as they say, wiping her ass everyday only to shit again. i can’t really do much to actually alleviate your circumstances except maybe making you smile, so i hope this can be your tiny ray of sunshine amidst the crap. this fic literally makes no sense because i wrote this within one hour so i’m sorry but pls know that ilysm!!

“Where’d you even fucking get this abomination?” you growl, struggling fruitlessly against the coarse fabric. In your fidgeting, your elbow knocks into Seokjin’s broad chest, causing more damage to your weak joints than anything. Even so, Seokjin grunts overdramatically, stepping on your toes in retaliation.

“Yoongi-chi, you know that I love you very much—” Seokjin seethes, his teeth clenched almost painfully as he fights to restrain himself from ripping the sweater in half, a la Hulk style. “—but I will not hesitate to stab you once I get out of here.”

“Not my fault that you both are acting like a bunch of toddlers,” Yoongi snorts, hip jutted out in contempt like the homosexual that he is. “And to answer your other question, I bought that sweater online after your last fight, when you two were literally wrestling on the kitchen counter. I didn’t know whether I walked into some intense BDSM play or a WWE ring.”

“You bought a fucking get-along sweater for us? What are you, some sort of Christian camp counselor?” you growl, kicking your legs out in an attempt to hit him. The slimy twink bastard jumps away gracefully, landing onto the loveseat opposite the couch that you were sitting on. He crosses his legs, opening his arms wide when your traitorous cat jumps onto his lap, looking to all the world like a terrible Bond villain from the 80s.

“If I was Christian, I would not put the two of you into a sweater together,” Yoongi says. He strokes your cat, who purrs loudly before pointing a contemptuous glare back at you, as if she was enjoying your torture too. Dumb cat. You never liked Miko anyway.

Yoongi continues, “Anyone would two eyes knows that you both are just one brawl away from fucking each other into the next dimension. Lord knows that your sexual tension could power the entire city.”

It’s Seokjin’s turn to snort, who has been relatively quiet in comparison to you. He’s also less fidgety, but that might be because he at least has the advantage and comfort of occupying 90% of the sweater space due to his oceanic shoulders. You once described him as “horizontally imbalanced,” which he did not find slightly amusing.

“I would rather place my balls into a panini press and feed them to Miko than to ever fuck Y/N,” Seokjin fake-gags, squirming uncomfortably in his seat. “It would be less hot for me to actually grill my penis than for me to sink into her hell-ish cunt. I swear, you could bake bread in there with how much yeast has accumulated from—“

You headbutt his chin before he can finish, squawking indignantly. The satisfying sound of his teeth clacking together in pain is momentary but worthwhile. “Excuse you, but it’d be an honor to fuck me! I’ve got that S-tier pussy! If my pussy was in a gacha game, people would spend thousands of dollars just to roll for my mystical coochie!”

Yoongi smirks. “So you admit that you do want Seokjin to fuck you!”

“What the fuck! No! That is—what the—I don’t!” You stammer, face flushing as you struggle to regain your footing in the conversation. Yoongi’s eyebrow raises, intrigued by your slip-up. “That is totally not what I meant, and you know it!”

Yoongi picks at his nails, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “Sorry, I don’t speak hetero. Prithee, explain thy peculiar mating rituals to one who does not walk the straight and narrow path.”

You slump back against the couch, forcing Seokjin to follow and fall backward with you. His shoulder hits you square in the boob, causing you to groan in pain. “Yoongi, just let us out of this thing before I lose a limb to this walking inflatable tubeman,” you plead, ignoring Seokjin’s glare.

“I resent that,” Seokjin inputs, but no one pays him any mind. Your attention is focused solely on the smirking kitty man in front of you, who grows smugger as time ticks on.

Everyone in your friend group is aware of the weird relationship you have with Seokjin. Ever since you met him in your freshman year of university, things were never peaceful between the two of you. It was always constant bickering, squabbling, competing… everything. Even Jungkook, Seokjin’s other sworn enemy, doesn’t argue with the elder as much as you did.

For three years, everyone just assumed it was your weird kindergarten schoolyard way of showing affection for each other, and at the beginning, it might have been. You and Seokjin, both of whom have never dated in their lifetimes despite being moderately popular while growing up, are unsurprisingly emotionally stunted and never learned how to just be nice to people you like. Affection who? Compassion where? To the both of you, physical connection can only be achieved through hair tugging and nipple pinching, and not even in the sexy way.

But at a certain point, things were starting to get tiring. Your arguments only grew larger in scale, to the point where it was getting hard to differentiate whether the bruises on your neck were from pinches or something else.

“I just… Ugh… When are they gonna fuck, hyung? I’m actually getting tired of their constant fighting,” Namjoon had lamented one afternoon, just a day after your last altercation with Seokjin. It had been a big one, where Seokjin nearly lost a tooth when you had landed a neat uppercut squarely on his jaw after he called your toes ‘a foot fetishist’s worst nightmare.’

Yoongi’s boyfriend had been staring listlessly into his bowl of soup for the past hour, and he was honestly starting to get worried when it looked like Namjoon had started muttering to himself in a foreign language. Yoongi almost thought he might have been scrying for a prophecy, begging for an answer to their most pressing question.

“What do you want me to do about it? Lock them in a room and let them out only after they’ve done the deed? Mixed bodily fluids? Performed the monkey dance to its climax?! No thanks, I don’t wanna be near them when that can of worms finally explodes,” Yoongi grimaced, shivering at the thought.

Namjoon shook his head quickly, face paling with him. “Heaven forbid. Maybe you can keep it PG? How about getting one of those get-along sweaters or something. I think they used those in kindergarten.”

Yoongi sighed. “Yeah, but the question would be how I’d get them into it.” He flaps his noodle arms around in demonstration. “I’m not exactly in the running for world’s strongest twink. Plus, years of fighting each other means they’re both stronger than I am.”

Namjoon shrugged. “Easy, just dare them to wear it. Make it into a competition. Nothing gets them more riled up than when they’re trying to outcompete each other.”

And so, that’s how the two of you had gotten stuck in a 3XXL Hello Kitty sweater that Yoongi had bought from Ebay. It has yet to be decided whether spending $40 on expedited shipping was worth it.

“Look, Yoongi-chi. We both promise that we will stop fighting once you let us out of this,” Seokjin says, smiling sweetly at him. Had Yoongi been younger and much more prone to the alluring temptation of the Straight Man™️, he might have caved. But Yoongi is older now, plus he knows when Seokjin is lying better than any polygraph test.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, waving him off. “Fat chance. You’d probably stop fighting for approximately three hours before getting mad about mint chocolate ice cream or something.”

“Hey! Give us some credit. We both agree that flavor is abhorrent, so we would never argue about that,” you retort, with Seokjin nodding furiously in agreement. You glance at him. “And I feel like we’d last at least six hours without fighting. What was our record again?”

“Five hours and twenty-two minutes,” Seokjin says.

You hum thoughtfully. “Okay, I can promise at least five hours and thirty minutes. Maybe.”

Yoongi groans, rubbing his temples in frustration. His souring mood even makes Miko jump away in fright, and the two idiots trapped in a sweater can immediately feel the dip in temperature. Uh oh, here we go!

“I am absolutely sick and tired of the two of you dumbasses fighting all the time! It’s embarrassing as hell trying to bring either of you anywhere in public because everyone mistakes your little catfights for strange foreplay or whatever,” Yoongi glowers. The two of you shrink into your seats, ashamed.

“We’ve only gotten kicked out of one Costco—” Seokjin defends. 

“But we did get fined for public indecency at the beach when I pulled your trunks down, which was totally unfair, by the way,” you mutter. 

“You literally threatened to, and I quote, ‘Suck the soul out of Seokjin’s dick until he dies.’ How the hell is that unfair?!” Yoongi exclaims. 

“It was a death threat! I would’ve accepted a charge for attempted murder, but that was not going to be a sexy blowjob, I assure you—”

Yoongi holds up a hand to silence you. “Face it, you both like each other. Whatever! Sure, you guys are the token straight people in our friend group, but that doesn’t make you bland as hell! Well, actually, it does but…” Yoongi pauses, wondering if it was worth lying. It takes a second for him to refocus. “Where was I? Oh right—“

Yoongi clears his throat, starting again. He heaves a deep breath, shoulders sagging tiredly as he puts on the sincerest face he can muster. “Listen, I just want to say that I care a lot about you, okay? And it sucks seeing the both of you hurting every time the other person says something really mean that neither of you even mean! If anything, will you please stop for me? If you really cared about our friendship, will you do it for me?”

There is a heavy pause as Yoongi strives to get his breathing back in check, his impassioned speech causing his fragile grandpa heart to race. He can feel his cheeks darkening in embarrassment, unused to using his “hyung voice” on Seokjin or you. Separately, the two of you are very reliable, never really needing him to scold either of you. Together, however… that’s a different story, but as the next eldest hyung, it really only fell to Yoongi to fix his friends’ mess of a relationship.

Screw age hierarchy. Yoongi would love to see Jungkook try to get Seokjin and you to fuck. Would absolutely pay to see the twerp squirm as he tries to even say the word “penis.”

After a while, Seokjin and you share a look. Yoongi watches with bated breath as he waits for either of you to speak, but he can sense some unspoken conversation happening between you. Perhaps, after years of exchanging blows, you had somehow knocked brain cells into each other and now share a weird psychic connection. Or, more likely, the two of you actually like each other and understand each other on a deeply personal level, so personal in fact that you could probably finish each other’s sentences, like—!

“We refuse,” you both reply in tandem, your joined voices echoing throughout the apartment. You both had said it so in sync that Yoongi might have imagined the other person speaking, but no—you both really did just say that to his face. In front of Miko. In front of his goddamn imaginary salad.

“Excuse me?” Yoongi squeaks. He cleans his ears with his fingers but finds no cotton there. These bitches! How dare they just throw his speech to the gutter! That shit took brain cells to think of, and he is not in the business of wasting his precious minutes by using them for productivity.

You shrug, leaning against Seokjin’s shoulder. He can see the ghost of a smirk tugging at your lips, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s confusion. “You heard us. We’ve made the executive decision to double our efforts, actually.”

Seokjin nods, not even shoving you off his shoulder like he normally would whenever you made contact with him. What? “Exactly. Honestly, we’ve been fighting for so long that we’ve kinda been just doing it for the bit at this point, and the fact that it annoys you so much is just the icing on the cake.”

Yoongi stares at them. His brain doesn’t feel like it’s connecting to his body at all; he feels like he’s floating. “So. What you’re saying is—“

“We know we like each other. Whatever. But we also like fighting, so who gives a shit if we’re having fun at the end of the day?” you shrug, pinching Seokjin’s cheek for good measure. As per usual, the elder retaliates by grabbing your finger with robot-like accuracy, before biting you there like a ravaging beast.

“And before you ask, no, we aren’t really dating. Yet. We kinda just wanted to piss as many people off before actually becoming official. We honestly didn’t think that you’d be the first one to crack.” Seokjin says, your finger falling from his mouth. The imprint of his teeth marks on your skin are plain as day, but you don’t look remotely bothered by it. In fact, you’re practically cooing at his ‘baby teefies’ like a psychopath.

“I—“ Yoongi stutters, at a loss for words for once in his life. He stands from the chair, but his knees give out from under him, causing him to tumble to the carpeted floor. He holds his head in his hands, shell-shocked. “So… That means…”

“Yeah, we’re kinda just freaky, I guess.” You muse before laughing hysterically when Yoongi begins to sob. “Hey, you’re right! We did make Yoongi cry! Do you think we could make Namjoon piss himself in rage when he finally confronts us too?”

Seokjin cackles, shaking your hand underneath the sweater. “If anyone can do it, I know that we can.”

And so, the two of you stand up clumsily to your feet, not bothering to escape the ridiculous sweater as you both waddled out of Yoongi’s apartment. From outside his door, Yoongi hears the sound of a new fight commencing, your shrieks resonating down the hall and for all the world to hear.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Podcasting "Self Publishing"

This week on my podcast, I read my latest Medium column, “Self-Publishing,” an essay about the structural shifts in the publishing industry over the past half-century and how and why that has driven people to try self-publishing.

https://doctorow.medium.com/self-publishing-41800468bcfe

The tale starts with the rise of Big Box stores, after Reagan’s deregulation got Sam Walton to take Walmart national. This concentrated the “mass market” — the huge, variegated world of pharmacy and grocery and cornerstore spinner racks that were the cradle of genre fiction.

The big boxes demanded a single national distribution system, and hundreds of local distributors — whose unionized Teamsters stocked the spinner racks based on long territorial experience — collapsed to a handful of database-driven decision-makers.

The number of titles for sale fell off a cliff. Writers who had a single underperforming book were no longer welcome in the big boxes and thus no longer economically viable (remember all those established writers who switched to pen-names? They were trying to beat this).

Monopoly begets monopoly. The predatory discounting of the big box stores put the squeeze on chain bookstores and indies. The chains merged and merged into a duopoly, while the indies underwent a mass die-off.

Publishers were caught in this squeeze: the two national bookstore chains and the big box stores demanded extra co-op payments, preferential discounts, and more generous credit and return policies. The publishers merged and merged, down to six (now four).

This also happened with trade distributors (who sold to bookstores, not the mass market) — the industry collapsed into a duopoly (today, it’s a monopoly, run by Ingram).

This is a familiar pattern across all monopolized industries.

As David Dayen described in MONOPOLIZED, this neatly parallels the monopolization of health care: pharma monopolized and gouged hospitals, who monopolized in self-defense and gouged insurers, who monopolized in self-defense.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/29/fractal-bullshit/#dayenu

Both monopolistic trends had the same end-point: after all the companies had finished monopolizing, the disorganized group of suppliers and workers were the only ones that the monopolies could strong-arm. In the case of hospitals, that’s health-workers and patients.

In publishing, it’s workers and writers. If you work in publishing and your resume is rejected by four companies, it has been rejected by every major publisher. If you’re a writer whose book is rejected by four publishers, then you’ve been rejected by every major house.

That’s why writers are now expected to give up graphic novel, audio, world English, and other valuable rights for the same advances — with fewer companies bidding on books, the likelihood that one will pay more or demand less goes down.

In the 2000s and early 2010s, some writers hoped that they’d be able to sidestep publishing by allying themselves with a different monopolized industry, locking themselves to Amazon’s platform. But as competition from publishers dwindled, so too did Amazon’s largesse.

The authors who shackled themselves to Amazon now face tens of millions of dollars in wage-theft. The solution to unfair treatment at the hands of giants isn’t to ally yourself with an even bigger giant and hope for its ongoing generosity.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/03/somebody-will/#acx

A more promising sign is in the wave of mid-sized houses that have snapped up the workers shed by Big Publishing during mergers as well as the promising new publishing workers who are surplus to the Big Four’s needs.

These presses punch way above their weight, thanks in part to the number of great books that just don’t fit into the publishing needs of four giant houses. But as great as this is, it’s intrinsically precarious.

These mid-sized houses can’t stand up to the might of one distributor, one national bookseller, four big box stores, and one giant ecommerce monopoly. Earlier mass die-offs in indie publishing (like the American Marketing Services horror story) show how fragile this is.

Which brings us to self-publishing. There have never been more sophisticated tools for making polished, professional books on your own — Lulu.com, Smashwords, Bookbaby — and (thanks to layoffs) it’s never been easier to find publishing pros to help with that process.

But that’s not “publishing.” As Patrick Nielsen Hayden once told me (paraphrasing), “Publishing is identifying a work and an audience and doing whatever it takes bring the two together.” In other words, how do you convince people to give a shit about your book?

This is an incredibly hard problem. It’s the hard problem of advertising, religion and politics. There’s no established method for it because the attention wars are a race against adaptation — what worked yesterday won’t work today.

https://locusmag.com/2018/01/cory-doctorow-persuasion-adaptation-and-the-arms-race-for-your-attention/

If you want to self-publish, you need to observe books like yours, identify how they are discovered by their audiences, formulate a plan to do the same, execute the plan, measure your results, and change the plan and do it again, and again, and again.

Publishers don’t just have systems and experts — they also have multiple data-points, a stream of books where they get to try different things, refine their successful tactics, and try again. You have a data-set with one point in it: you.

It follows that if you’re not prepared to work as hard (and well) at marketing, sales and promotion as you did at writing, you probably shouldn’t self-publish. Doing those things won’t guarantee your success, but without them, failure is all but assured.

That said, the one area where self-publishers can sometimes outdo publishers is accessing (parts of) the mass-market. The vast majority people aren’t “readers” (in the sense of being people who regularly buy books, go to bookstores, etc).

Every mega-bestseller is just a book that succeeded with a tiny sliver of nonreaders. And you might know more about a community of nonreaders — a faith group, fandom, subculture or political movement — than anyone in publishing.

If that’s the case, and if you are both diligent and lucky, you might be able to successfully market you book to that group and even leverage that success into a publishing deal that brings your book to “readers” — whom a publisher knows more about than you ever will.

I published by first book in 2000. Since then, I’ve published a couple dozen more, everything from novels for adults to YA novels to a middle-grades graphic novel to a picture book to essay and short story collections to book-length nonfiction.

I’ve published many books, including multiple bestsellers, with one of the Big Four publishers, and I’ve also published with several mid-sized boutique presses (some of which have merged with bigger publishers since).

I’ve successfully self-published, including a $267,000, record-smashing Kickstarter campaign. I’m a recovering bookseller and I’m unhealthily drawn to great bookstores, which are doing surprisingly well (thanks partly to Libro.fm and Bookshop.org).

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/attack-surface-audiobook-for-the-third-little-brother-book

Despite all this, I’m keenly aware that runaway consolidation makes my position as a worker in this system intrinsically precarious. The wonderful people in big publishing love books and treat me very well, but they can’t fix the system.

I’ve met sincere, talented people at Amazon doing their best to support publishing, but they can’t fix the system either. Neither can James Daunt, a true hero of bookselling who has come to America to transform Barnes and Noble.

Monopoly begets monopoly. If any part of the supply chain is allowed to monopolize, the rest will follow in self-defense, and it will always be the workers — the writers and staff — who struggle to push back.

That’s why the current resurgence of both trade-unionism and antitrust are so important. In a world whose outcomes are more determined by power relationship than by good intentions, the only way to secure workers’ futures is to make them stronger and make business weaker.

The essay is here:

https://doctorow.medium.com/self-publishing-41800468bcfe

The podcast episode is here:

https://craphound.com/news/2021/07/05/self-publishing/

The MP3 is here (hosting courtesy of the Internet Archive, they’ll host your stuff for free, forever):

https://archive.org/download/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_396/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_396_-_Self_Publishing.mp3

And here’s my podcast feed:

http://feeds.feedburner.com/doctorow_podcast

[spade-riddles]

"Adjusting Expectations" Post

This submission received a lot of responses and 120 notes, so I thought I would compile the comments here.

Anonymous said:

Adjusting expectations anon was so good. If their timetables are right and we do just need to be patient a little longer, can Kaylor please send us a sign? I guess it would be too loud to slip "adjusting expectations" into social media posts, but maybe they could both do something with playing cards? To show they are card sharks right now but they'll find their way home eventually? That would reassure people. And it would fly under the radar.

casuallycruel131313 said:

I agree with a lot of this but I think the main issue right now is that moral and ethical lines have been crossed and there's no coming back from that. In these post-Trumpian insurrectionist times it's unfathomable that they could continue the Kushner narrative I no longer care if or when they come out, I enjoy the music and I'm happy to observe from a distance because I'm interested from a PR/marketing point of view but my opinion of T &K as people has changed irrevocably and I don't see how they can clean the tarnish off.

@theprologues said:

Agree with most of not all if this but I would like to say as a Kaylor the toe Grammy stunt didn’t phase me. I was not crushed by that by any means. I just shrugged and honestly expected it. It was the attributing Betty and exile to him during the LPSS in November that bummed me out and really made me go...really?

rockcrow20 said:

Have to say I also agree with most of this.

I no longer have any expectations on anything changing any time soon and have not been surprised by the recent events its to be expected after everything over the years really

Nothing has really changed (bearding narrative wise) since I fell down the rabbit hole in 2017 (except that great night in nashville 2018 rep)

Honestly I can't say I am as invested anymore about them ever coming out as I was.

I think the wb/Joe thing was the last moment for me and the continual kushner connection just troubles me like many others.

I mean my kaylor motto for awhile now has been hope for the best but expect disappointment.

Low expectations = limited feelings of disappointment.

original-cypher said:

@rockcrow20 the WB was a breaking point for so many. You are absolutely right. There are just so ma'y contradictions that feel like absolute whiplash. (I know I seem to have been the only one experiencing that with Gorgeous but... that was a big one for me, too) But like. You go on a whole PR campaign about speaking up and standing up for yourself. You say you're capable and tired of men trying to take ownership of your success and profit off of your name. And you credit you literal damn work to a bloke? Bitch, 'consistency'? Look it up. It grossed me out. It would have felt iffy if I believed they were real. But since I wasn't born yesterday it just sent me the message "this is how far I'm willing to sacrifice my principles to not be queer".

rockcrow20 said:

@original-cypher exactly why it bothered me and I know alot us so much. Such mixed messaging of being a strong fighting for your rights female and then oh hey let me attribute some of my best work to my pr boyfriend and the pr pics where she is walking behind all the time like 🙄 The Betty thing that was big one for me too!

rainbowdaisy13 said:

This write up and the comments are spot on. I don’t have much to add other than like @original-cypher said, Miss Americana is tainted for me now and seems like at the very least, it was released too soon in the plan. I get we think they have had to pivot but man, that doc, and including her literally saying “gay rights make me me” at the end was such a false flag. To see her wax poetic about not taking shit from men anymore and then see her do the same old hetero weak woman song and dance routine with the WB shit for albums that are of her genius mind has been so disappointing. I still believe Kaylor is real and I hope they get a chance to show the world that. Karlie posting that cardigan pic in the woods before the folklore release cemented for me they are still together. Adding a baby makes me feel all kind of weird ethical things but I hope I live long enough to see it play out and wear my I Told You So shirt 😁

@kellykaylor said:

agree with your post... I dont care about toe stunts but what really pissed me of was hetwashing betty 🤮! beautiful post tho anon!!

roameroo said:

Totally agree with these all comments especially the strong messaging of MA only to turn around & pull that WB = my "bf" crap. I was disheartened by her mentioning him at the Grammy's only bc he's getting credit for sh*t he doesn't/didn't do. That is what irks me the most about this, giving him credit for her life's work.

always-the-last-word said:

Can I throw my pennies in the pool ?? Taylor will put out the big three first Fearless, RED then 1989 that should bring us to about August. This is where the excitement should begin. If Taylor preps and waits for National Coming Out day it's a no lose for her. Lover her money making machine will go through the roof !! If things go bad or good in the public eye she'll have REPUTATION Taylor's Version ready to release. It will be epic and she'll own it and be FREE.

@karlie-what-you-want said:

always-the-last-word I like this take a lot! I try not to be too optimistic but if she wanted to come out sooner rather than later, I think this plan would satisfy both business and PR needs (at least on Taylor’s end). Remains to be seen how Tay will help Karlie dig her way out of the mess they made together regarding the K*shners.

always-the-last-word said:

Always remember that Taylor has a PLAN. Some of her plans are year's old (easter eggs). Taylor's one and only LOVE is her music, everything else comes second. If KK wants to change and be with her full time she'll make moves around the same time frame. That's if she chooses to. In any event Tay will be open and own all her music. I've seen this film before and WE might not like the ending.

chosetherose said:

I’ve been going back and forth for a day trying to figure out what I wanted to say when I reblogged this post. I’m tired. I’m frustrated. I understand I’m owed nothing by Taylor or Karlie. I understand that circumstances out of their control have caused the girls to pivot over and over again.

But, the root of my frustration in the past months stems not from me battling with the trivial (e.g. pap walks, etc.) but with my personal principles. I fiercely believe credit should be given where it is earned and I uphold this in my career regularly. To see Taylor crediting Toe with her art was deeply disappointing. Watch the 1989 and folklore acceptance speeches back to back and tell me it doesn’t upset you. I believe the K******s have blood on their hands and that their actions during the pandemic have killed people. To see Karlie still associating with one of them disgusts me.

I can’t help but think back in frustration - Would you really fall from grace to touch her face? (And in the brilliant words of @9w1ft) But would you die for her in public? I go back and forth feeling like questions like this aren’t fair at all and thinking they are sort of valid. At this point, it sort of feels like Taylor would only fall from grace for her lover if all the stars and facets of her life aligned perfectly. But perfection like this does not happen. Such is life. So why am I here?

I do question why Spade left certain messages in their final days. I am still holding hope a fervent revolution exonerates everyone. I so desperately want Taylor to regain control of her masters or re-records. Maybe this is the plan they thought was best with multiple goals in mind (re-records, having a family, coming out of the closet one day etc). I’m trying to remain patient because Spade told us to trust her endless yearning. But WOW it is asking a lot of us at this point.

Anonymous said:

Despite being a pragmatist kaylor and oftentimes getting into arguments with fellow optimistic kaylors (owner of this blog included) I think it's quite unfair -at this point- to say to the optimists who have patiently sat through the worst kind of stunts with the most terrible kind of people (yes I'm talking about the Kushner's friend group too) that they should have seen it coming. Besides, if it weren't for the optimists we the cynicals would have burned this fandom down by now.

Anonymous said:

Even if we ignore that an insurrection happened partially because of the family karlie's still working for and getting paid from, she literally said before the pregnancy debacle unfolded that j*sh was her last client while talking about cutting hair and doing a cutting gesture. How should we have interpreted that? 😤That a year later she would be more stuck with the Kushners than ever? We don't wake up on day and decide to have unrealistic expectations. She feeds into them. 😠

Anonymous said:

I have no expectation of Taylor coming out anymore. Zero. None. I have no expectation of her dropping Toe or even of Kaylor publicly reuniting. It doesn't even matter that much anymore. But I - do - expect 1 thing. Karlie to drop and completely dissociate herself from the Kushners and this has nothing to do with kaylor. It was everything to do with me being unable to support a person who willfully assists (now using her baby too) and receives money from a family that has made so many suffer.

Anonymous said:

A quick word from an ex-kaylor (who will never become an anti). A year ago, when the Trumps were still in power and untouchable and there was no baby, I was excusing and turning a blind eye to many things Karlie did for the K*shners. Even that dinner in September. I had also made peace with the truth never being revealed. But a year later the Trumps are gone, Karlie is still on full stunting mode now with a baby in the mix, a baby that is already being used by the Kushners, and I've really run out of excuses. Now the only thing that could possibly keep me on board is if I knew there was a good chance that the full truth would come out, so that Karlie's inexplicable and honestly borderline immoral actions could eventually make sense. But as your sub said, this is an unrealistic expectation, thus I became an ex-kaylor and I'm not planning to come back even when they reunite. 😕

Anonymous said:

What baffles me is that Taylor has explicitly expressed her regret about not giving her lover the credit she deserves and her doubt whether fame is worth hiding her true love: "when I walked up to the podium, I think I forgot to say your name", "what's a lifetime of achievement, if I pushed you to the edge". But yet again she didn't do anything to change this. I didn't expect her to acknowledge Karlie, but a nod or at least not falsely crediting her beard would be a good start.

Anonymous said:

1🙁 Let me chime in re: "expectations". I'm one of the kaylors who ever since the pregnancy reveal was trying to tell everyone there's NO way she was gonna dump him soon after birth let alone before that. It would bring too much unnecessary attention and Jerk would have never agreed to something that would make him look like a bad guy/husband. For the exact same reasons, I was also saying there's no way he wasn't going to post about the baby. All the above against the popular opinion back then.

2🙁 So I agree that the day of the birth post was known to T, not the timing though. Simply bc Kushner-leaning outlets made sure to note that detail. If they wanted it to go unnoticed, why draw attention to it? That being said, kaylors would have been more patient with this mess, if Karlie hadn't gone overboard with her freedom "smoke signals" last summer and Tay's "insiders" hadn't been insinuating that the end is VERY near. Both of them SHOULD have known by then how we would react to these.

3🙁 So it's natural that everyone feels played and has no patience for any more bullshit. Another sore point is how Jerk AND the Kushner-Trump klan monopolize the baby news. This isn't just to make it realistic, it's an abuse of Kaylor's baby's name to garner good pr for the worst family in America, with Karlie's blessing. In order for her marriage and split to appear realistic she's putting a LIFETIME burden on her child's back. Unless you believe she's eventually gonna say Jerk isn't the dad.

4🙁 So "we’re in a position we should realistically have been able to see coming". But we did see it coming, that why some made these extreme scenarios, bc this is the worst possible outcome. "Good people try to make it work, even in bad relationships." Ultimately this isn't just a "bad rs". It's a horrific association that should have been resolved ages ago, not one to bring your child into, doom it to suffer a similar fate, and expect people to sit idly and watch. That's what frustrates most.

[nightswithkookmin]

With the grammy bomb im more than certain that there is a strain between jikook. They do interact but in a way that is so aloof. Their habitual gravitating towards one another doesnt happen anymore. And im talking about all the recent stuff from october onwards. Jk purposefully rear towards other members and i find jimin to be only open towards namjoon. All of his other interactions on cam are to make sure that everything is fine between him and others. And jk purposefully ignores or avoids jimin and doesnt have that unrestrainable affection towards him anymore. I say all this as a longtime jikook supporter. Honestly even if they had their 'fighting' periods i have never seen jk this dismissive. At least jimin isnt as affected as before. I dont understand how no supporter is admitting the obvious distance of jk.

Why are you being mean to me though😭

Please read my blogs. I think I have talked about this topic several times now.

May be I spoke 'too soon' before the loud moments that make these things obvious to most but still, I've addressed it nonetheless.

I feel if I respond to this, I'd just be repeating myself over and over at this point and frankly it gets boring for the people that read me- I think. Lol. I mean, once I start I never shut up. Lmho. So sorry in advance.

I agree with everything you've said, as well as all the observations you've made. I'm with you on it. Except, you made no definitive conclusions I could agree on, rebut, or share an opinion on. There is a strain on their relationship..... therefore? Lol.

I don't mean this in a rude way. I just don't think it's enough to point that out without drawing conclusions- unless you are simply taking notes of those moments? Or are you concluding that the strain is a sign Jikook are fighting, having problems or that they have broken up?

Not every tension between Jikook is a bad thing if you ask me or even as a result of them having issues in their relationship. This is something I keep regurgitating in my blogs. Not to say they don't have issues, they do. Hell, I get dragged by my roots on these streets for saying they fight, or even break up sometimes like any real couple would. They are real and they have real couple's problems sometimes too like any regular joe.

I'm glad you pointed out though, that Jimin doesn't seem as affected by JK's 'dismissive' attitude as before. Shouldn't that tell you that is a sign there is nothing wrong with their relationship this time around? Jikook is not one sided. JK isn't the only party to their relationship, neither is Jimin. They have an equal and sometimes opposite reaction to each other. One person's attitude or change in attitude tends to produce a ripple effect on the other. In my opinion.

If JK were to be 'dismissive' at all, it would emotionally and physically impact Jimin and he would have a reaction to it like he did in run 106. Compared to this, he didn't seem at all affected by JK's 'attitude' just as you've pointed out.

As I said a while ago, I honestly don't think or believe they are fighting or that they are broken up either- not to me anyway. Lol. I mean you could still pretty much see the intimacy between them in that footage. Jikook don't need to engage in skinship or overt and loud interactions to show they are intimate. And most times their overt and loud skinship and interactions are devoid of intimacy. That's the thing about intimacy, you can't fake it or hide it.

Jimin turning towards JK in his fit of excitement is a sign of intimacy between them regardless of whether he actually hugged JK or not. Then later on the couch, you could see him yearning for JK.

There were three people in that room- may be more if you count staff and yet JK was the only one Jimin seemed to want an answer from.

He was the one Jimin was emotionally inclined towards. The one who's comfort and affection he sought after- bless his heart, he hit his head on some solid rock knees and everything trying to pursue his need for physical closeness and affection from JK. If they were broken up or fighting, he wouldn't go to JK for his emotional needs.

He could try and 'interact' with JK, do the fanservice bit with him but he wouldn't go to him with his emotional needs- that would be inappropriate and unfair to JK. Jimin is an emotionally intelligent guy and he has a lot of thoughts and consideration for people's feelings and he is well aware of his limits and just how much he can push or get away with.

And I cite his Log with JK, where he announced he had started developing feelings for JK and then turned to JK to ask if he was ok with him saying that much on camera.

Thus, if he is emotionally 'gravitating' towards JK then it's indication there is a level of intimacy and a mutual understanding between them that JK fulfills an emotional need and ought to fulfill that emotional need for him.

And yes, I agree. Him hesitating when he wanted to hug JK is a sign there is something stressing their dynamics which is something I pointed out when that Grammy reaction video first came out. I knew something was stressing their dynamic but I couldn't figure out what because it was a very short video with not much going on in there.

The behind the scenes however, chilee. Lol.

I mean if you consider the fact JK went from moving a distance to console Jimin when he was crying on stage during the October ON:E concert, and you look at all the moments we've had from their overt flirting in 2021 season's greetings, the sexual innuendos in the BE behind scenes video, JK sniffing Jimin's hair in the Be unboxing video to that moment on the couch when Jimin hit his head on JK's knees- that shit look like it hurt. Damn. JK what is your knees made of! Lmho.

I am uncomfortable discussing a Jikook era or phase when it's on going on. I like to simply take note of certain moments and discuss them in post by reconstructing the timeline to place content in its rightful timeframe.

I can only share with you my working theory on such moments and for the most part, like I said previously I feel Jikook- especially JK is having issues with the company. Perhaps because the company stumbled on something they weren't supposed to see.

As for Jikook's personal development, I think we all saw this development coming, didn't we? After JM's birthday fiasco? I think I hypothesized at the time that whoever was in the 'wrong' in that situation would come swinging hard on their Jikook agenda in the aftermath. And with that whole GCF Tokyo reference, signing his name to JK's name at the pop up, the stealing looks at JK during interviews, checking him out left right left, trying to make Jk 'jealous' with RM at the Be press con red carpet, it's not hard to figure out who did what in that birthday situation.

I plan on writing a blog on this very topic, because I've received quite a few Asks about my thoughts on JK outing Jimin, military service and others that I find intriguing and want to discuss but I also want to discuss Vminkook dynamics, Jikook boundaries and I don't know which one to get into first. When I'm torn between options I end up not making a choice at all. Lol.

All I can say in regards to Jikook and their on going 'situation' is that- I love it. Lol. I love their dynamics, I love where they are at in their love journey, I love where they are heading. Jikook is just beautiful in every sense of the word.

I love what JK is doing. I love where he has gotten my bias to- which is confronting himself and figuring out what he wants from their relationship. Because, honestly you can't have your cake and eat it. It just doesn't work that way.

What you are seeing is just JK asserting himself against Jimin I'm afraid. It's the push and pull thingy all over again.

I keep talking about 'the boy in love with Jungkook' being a facade and persona Jimin hides behind to love JK and most people don't understand.

JK's persona is not the boy in love with Jimin. It's the boy cold and shy who rejects Jimin- well at least that was the persona he had in their early dynamics around debut.

He has since shed that persona and the bold, fearless, assertive JK we see on the screens is him choosing to unapologetically express his love and feelings for Jimin. And jimin enjoys that.

But you take a look at Jimin, and you don't see that drastic change in his persona or the way he expresses himself with JK- I mean let's call a spade a spade.

Do I think Jimin loves JK? Absolutely. Do I think he is being authentic in the way that he expresses those feelings to JK on camera? Only to an extent.

It's obvious who Jimin is to JK or even the way he expresses himself and his love for JK is slightly different off camera than the persona we see on our screens. For one, clearly JK is not used to seeing Jimin prioritize others over him or be overly affectionate with others besides him. I mean it's been seven years. Ten, if you count the periods before. You'd think JK would get used to JM doing skinship with others or showing affection for the others especially since they've lived together over half of the time and yet here we are, frying pans away from the apocalypse whenever any member breaths near Jimin. Damn JK. Lmho.

Do I think his persona is slightly exaggerated? Yes. But I also think JM downplays his love for Jk with his 'Mr I'm available' personality, his Kumbaya attitude, and his I'm just a nice guy on the block character, which often leads to people questioning whether or not he treats JK different from the group. Don't get me wrong JK does this too.

Jimin loves JK. But at this point the question is is he expressing that love in the way that meets JK's emotional needs? Is he allowing JK to love him and express the love he feels for him in the way that makes him happy?

I think that's what the birthday fiasco is all about.

If you don't want JK openly showing and expressing his love for you in a way that he wants to and in a way that holds meaning to him and makes him feel fulfilled as well in the relationship then what is the point of him holding on to the glass closet?

Two can play that game. Lol.

It's JK's needs above the groups and I feel he is putting it right up there next to JM's needs because they are both valid.

You should have seen JK's face when Jimin decided tell the truth about his location on September 1st in that BB press interview.

I remember pointing out that when JM started that narration with the first person pronoun he was going for a well curated narrative perhaps one the group had agreed on prior to avoid confirming his location on the JK's birthday like they had tried to do during the VLive but dropped that and went with the honest truth the moment he started talking about being with Jk and using 'we' instead of 'I' in his speech.

I'm glad the interviewer from his Weverse magazine interview confirmed and pointed out this tell or habit of Jimin when he speaks,

"When he’s talking, Jimin often starts his sentence with phrases like, “I just,” “it just,” “they just …” But then he immediately goes on to open up about his feelings, always providing a sincere response."

At least now we know for sure he wasn't lying about his location- for all those who called him a liar.

Anywho, my point is it makes JK happy when Jimin expresses his love and feelings for him. But it also makes him happy when he is able to show the world just how much JM means to him.

He didn't get those tattoos for nothing. He didn't do the GCFs for nothing. He didn't nibble on his ear in front of thousands of people for nothing- had he posted for Jimin on his birthday, given how he hadn't done that for anyone in a year, it wouldn't have been for nothing either. In my opinion.

When I tell y'all Jimin is gonna wake up one day with JK's ring on his finger and he wouldn't know what hit him. Chilee. Lmho.

Listen, JK is in love LOVE with Jimin. It's my opinion and I'm gonna treat it as fact because I believe it- if you disagree keep it to yourself. I don't wanna hear it. Lol.

That boy is in love with my bias. Ain't nobody gonna tell me nothing. Lol.

Seriously though, JK loves Jimin and he loves expressing those feelings for him. He goes overboard sometimes with it to the point it's borderline outing but we don't talk about that. Lol.

He's progressed through out the years from hiding his feelings for Jimin, whispering I love you's to JM when he thinks JM is alseep, slipping matching plasters onto his finger, all the way to Rosebowl.

If you ask me, he wants to be Jimin's equal in every sense of the word and as much as he loves to be at the recieving end of JM's affections, he enjoys being at the giving end.

And if JM has the cover of 'the boy in love with the Maknae' and it works perfectly for him not just as a persona but the perfect excuse for loving Jk then you gotta wonder what cover JK equally has for loving JM the way that he does. He has none. His every move is questioned by members, by staff, by fans- why do you film Jimin so much, why not put Tae in there for clicks, why are you constantly with Jimin and other invasive questions like that.

Jimin gets away with a lot of things than JK because of his personality and his persona. People would question the things JK does most of the time while dismissing the things Jimin does as either fanservice or as flowing from his personality. Whereas JK cannot get away with those same things.

We paint JK as Jeonlous and possessive but we forget most times he acts that way so Jimin doesn't have to. Jimin has said he doesn't share his friends and yet somehow we think he is ok with sharing his boyfriend with 5 other members or those 5 members with his boyfriend- this is code, let it sink in.

There is a lot of boundaries he instills there and it's equally an expression of possessiveness. Yet it's so subtle you might not even notice.

Jk makes Jimin look cool. He takes the fall so Jimin doesn't have to. When JK takes a step back that's when you see how whipped JM is- the neediness, the clinginess- PJMs give me a break. *rolling my eyes. It needs to be said. I love Jimin too but shit, it is what is. Lol.

I think it's gonna take a while for Jk to open back up to Jimin, to get in the space where he feels safe expressing himself with Jimin the way that he was doing before Jimin's birthday.

It doesn't mean he hates Jimin or doesn't love him or doesn't want him or doesn't care. But I think Jimin needs to step up to show he is on the same page as JK because JK is all about reciprocity. He ain't about to do the one sided unrequited nonsense. Lol.

Honestly all this is part of Jikook's dynamics. This not the first time Jk's closed himself off. The last time he did it was because they had gone through a nasty breakup- I said what I said. In my opinion nonetheless. Lol.

In the aftermath of it, he was expressing similar behavior. In Suga's Birthday Vlive this year for example, when Jimin was clinging to him and had his hands on his leg he didn't take the bait either- man was it frustrating to watch. Lol. But you could see JM wanted that physical connection with him. Did you see his smug face when Jimin was all over him?

I think he is just going through a phase where he needs reassurance of Jimin's love. Jimin is a big guy and he knows his man best and I think he knows exactly what he needs to do to get him to come around. Lol.

I mean he flew all the way from Paris to see him on his birthday didn't he?

I think we have to leave them to it. Just observe them. I hate commenting on a phase like this especially when it's on going. I'd rather talk about it after it's ended and a new phase has begun for them.

Part of supporting Jikook is knowing when to give them privacy and room to just unfold their story and be human. They are a living breathing love story after all.

Jk isn't being distant. He is just not interacting with JM the way we are used to seeing him do. But I feel that's part Bighit asking them to cool off and part him just wanting reassurance from Jimin.

At this point, I want to ask why you want people to acknowledge JK is closed off? To what end? I don't think anyone is denying that they are going through this phase- well the Kumbaya tradshippers are but why do you want me to acknowledge this fact? I already pointed out that there is something stressfing their dynamics.

They have their own personal stuff going on but I don't think it's much of an issue and at the same time they seem to be having issues with their company- You have to take all of that into consideration to see how that affects their dynamics as well.

You have to be aware of the timeline too. Because content is not released in chronological order, it may seem like a rollercoaster ride when in actual sense all of this may have happened with a specific time frame.

When it comes to Jikook always assume they are much closer than you think. Jikook is fine, I believe. Just take mental notes of these things for posterity. I wouldn't be worried about them.

As usual, this has been my opinion. Don't take it too seriously. Keep supporting Jikook. Jikook is real.

Signed,

GOLDY

[bat-besties]

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Remus is the most eccentric customer who visits Janus and Virgil's café. When he goes missing after talking to a mysterious stranger, Janus resolves to investigate further- and Virgil isn't letting him go alone.

AO3 10k 

Huge thanks to @mariniacipher, I could not have written this without her. She let me talk about the idea for hours, it has somehow developed into a series, and the story itself took a real twist because of talking to her! Another massive thank you to @5-crofters-jams, who did a marathon edit of the entire piece for me, and has made the story so much smoother and more effective (and much less British because my original dialogue did upset her American sensibilities XD) Also thanks to @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors, who knew everything I needed about pigeon corpses!

CW: dead bird, touching the bird corpse, bird funeral, Remus levels of comments about gore and innuendo, drug mention, mention of vomiting, kidnapping and captivity, feeling nauseous from anxiety, light dehumanization, brief allusion to racist violence

- 

Remus was...

(There was usually a little gesture there: Virgil’s rolled eyes, or Janus’ helplessly fond smile, or a disapproving look from Remy-)

....Remus.

Their anarchist cafe saw its fair share of unusual customers but only one of them was, well, Remus.

Morning sunlight threw beams which striped the posters covering the walls- old propaganda posters mixed with ads for tutors, food banks, and drag shows. There was a quiet chatter of customers, occasionally broken up by bursts of laughter or a called greeting to another patron as they came in. Kids from the skatepark sat on a pile of beanbags charging their phones, having given up the comfortable chairs for a small group of elderly butches with stretched tattoos who were now speaking with slang from fifty years ago. A mother whose baby was trying to grab onto her braids was trying to feed him with one hand and hold her husband’s with the other. A college student frowning at their laptop screen and consuming coffee at an alarming rate was seemingly oblivious to the punk trying to discreetly read their laptop stickers. One of a Pan-African flag matched the full-sized one on the wall, swaying with wafts of coffee and baked goods along with spider plants and assorted pride flags. Old photos of a Black Panther group in the town, reprinted and signed by some of their patrons, were framed proudly on the walls.

Since everyone had been served, Virgil was taking a few breaths to check over the register and prepare for the next rush. The rhythm of checking, preparing, and letting the background chatter fade into the background blended into a pleasant, thoughtless routine. Cups out. Setting out more sandwiches. Look over the register. Maybe get something from the back-

“Morning, shitwad!”

Virgil ducked under the counter as something thumped into the coffee machine behind him, and a few of the regulars laughed in good nature.

“Oh, good morning, darling,” Janus replied smoothly, appearing from the kitchen. He was wearing a yellow shirt which contrasted with his deep brown skin perfectly, as well as a bowler hat and dapper bow-tie. He pulled plastic gloves over his hands with all the elegance of a debutante preparing for a ball.

There was a shrill wolf whistle. “Those are some sexy wrists!” was the next comment, followed by a squawking laugh, and Virgil rolled his eyes as his friend brought a flustered hand up to adjust his collar. Every day, he faced the deep attraction between the most sophisticated person he knew and the most outlandish, and he didn’t know which was more obnoxious. As Virgil popped back up, Janus reached over to the projectile on the back counter. It was the small, feathery body of a dead pigeon, carefully wrapped in cling wrap.

Virgil gave Janus a long-suffering look and got out a bottle of disinfectant. “Morning, Remus,” he grumbled, despite his irritation. “What can I get for you today?”

“My friend died at 3am last night,” he replied instead. “I need to store her in your fridge until you both get off work, and then we’ll hold her funeral!”

When they were alive, Remus treated the pigeons as gently as they did each other-

That is to say, he was ruthlessly protective of chicks, ready to grab and move anyone encroaching on territory, and, if pecked, was fully ready to bite back. Still, at his two-tone whistle a whole flock of assorted birds would fly down to meet him. His eyes would shine bright as they flew around him like a feathered whirlwind, and settled on the surfaces all around him like a hopeful congregation as he fed them with whatever he had. Despite their number, almost all had names and ascribed personalities.

Exactly how he could tell the difference between two seemingly identical pigeons Virgil had no idea, and he wasn’t entirely sure that Remus wasn’t fucking with him about it.

“Why did you throw her if you’re trying to preserve her?” Virgil said, but he tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. In fairness, it didn’t look too damaged by the blow. It would take a lot to change the kindness Remus showed the doves, as roughly as he showed it.

“I thought you’d catch her, emo! It would have been a beautiful moment!” he protested, throwing his grey eyes open wide.

Virgil took a deep breath and nodded. “You know what? Yeah, maybe it would have been. But you forget-”

“Fight or flight,” Remus filled in. He shrugged. “I guess that makes sense.”

As usual, he was dressed in as many layers as he could be, with only a hint of pale skin showing on his face and through a pair of fingerless gloves he had cut himself. Everything else was an amalgamation of black and brown leather, denim, flannel, a puffy coat, a long flowing skirt in leopard-print, and fishnet tops over cotton T-shirts, leaving barely any Remus-outline at all. It didn’t matter what the weather was; his outfit might change components, but it never revealed so much as his neck.

Everyone had their reasons, Janus would quietly say at almost anything their customers said or did. It wouldn’t have crossed their minds to ask why he covered himself so much, but it was something Virgil couldn’t help but wonder about sometimes.

Maybe Janus was right and Remus was handsome, but his face was so obscured by his moustache, stubble, and makeup in purple and green- or whichever colours he felt like- that he seemed to be aiming for ‘gives you a headache after you look at him too long’ more than anything else.

His hair was almost literally a bird’s nest. He had completely rejected offers of a hairbrush or a comb, insisting he preferred it the way it was. The third co-owner of the cafe, Remy, with whom he was staying at the moment, had made many attempts to detangle his hair, all of which had been met with screaming and gnashing of teeth. After each clash, Remy would send Virgil a barrage of complaints by text. But while Janus had offered for Remus to stay at his own apartment, Virgil and Remy had made a mutual decision to save them from 24/7 pining by volunteering instead. Janus had refused even considering dating him the very first day he had barged his way into the cafe- and into its founder’s affection. As long as Remus came to them for food and shelter, it would be an unfair balance of power.

Remus reached into an inner pocket of his coat and slid a purple pin with a spider silhouette on it over to Virgil. “You could stab this into those big brown eyes of yours,” he said, widening his own at the barista.

“Sweet, thanks,” Virgil said, pinning it onto his apron string. It did match with his spider-web hair design. “Then I won’t have to look at Janus getting flustered any more.”

Remus grinned at Janus, who was trying to act as if he’d been so invested in carefully holding the pigeon that he hadn’t heard. He leaned on the counter and dropped his voice into a stage-whisper. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “I think he’s sexy.”

“That’s disgusting,” Virgil whispered back. “I’m going to throw up in your coffee.”

He shrugged. “I’d still drink it. Then I’d just be able to judge you based on your stomach bile.”

“You’d be so fucking impressed by my stomach bile,” Virgil retorted. “It’s so acidic from anxiety it would kill you immediately.” He turned to start wiping down anywhere the pigeon had even possibly touched.

“Bartender!” Remus yelled in an exaggerated English accent, banging on the counter. “Bartender! I would like a coffee and a sandwich, please!”

“One moment, my dear,” Janus said in a more passable impression, opening up the freezer door and placing the tiny corpse into an empty ice-cream container well away from the rest of the food. “I’m just cryopreserving- what’s her name?”

"Her name is Loki,” Remus supplied, his voice dropping to a matter-of-fact tone which was surprisingly tender coming from him. “She's good at stealing chips from tourists. And flying and shitting at the same time.”

Janus threw away his gloves, thoroughly washed his hands, then made a small note: "Loki: not for consumption." He glanced up at Remus so he could see the note, who repaid him by throwing his head back so he could laugh. Janus' mouth quirked into a snicker too, and the rest of the coffee shop seemed to fall away from the two looking at each other.

"We're going to get a violation," Virgil interrupted, because that was the expression of a Janus who would complain and pretend not to pine for hours after Remus left. He turned on the coffee machine to hopefully distract from the moment. "It's a dead fucking animal."

"So is the rest of the meat," Janus dismissed without looking at him. "And it is wrapped up and away from the rest of the food."

Ever since Virgil had joined the team and the cafe had begun to establish itself as a firm success, the city council had done everything in its power to shut it down. Each time, the cafe had won, even if their most recent fight was one of the most nerve-racking experiences of his life, and their personal lives had been dragged through the dusty carpet of every courtroom in the city. Each step of the way, Janus insisted that the risk was worth it.

After all that, Virgil was not letting the cafe close on account of a dead bird, as skilled a thief as she might have been.

"It’s a pest animal you let in here," he insisted.

Janus dismissed him with a shrug. "Come now, so is Remus."

The customer grinned. "You flatter me, rattlesnake." His eyes traced Janus' face as they scrunched up with joy. "Can you tell me about Dodgy Knees again?"

He closed his eyes as if pained. "Diogenes! Diogenes! I'll break your knees if you mispronounce-"

"Kinky!"

He rolled his eyes fondly. “Oh, is that so?”

So Virgil tried to ignore the disaster scenario of the cafe being shut for good, fixed a cup of coffee and a sandwich for Remus, and somehow got caught into a conversation about the pros and cons of leaving society to go feral in the woods.

“No, I do agree, but wolves-”

The door rattled, and an older white man with salt-and-pepper hair and a pinstripe suit walked in. He wasn’t entirely out of place amongst the clientele, but he honestly looked more like the businessmen in some of the cartoons Janus had papered one wall with. Remus ignored the bell as he leant his elbows on the counter, gesturing with his sandwich as he talked to Virgil while the barista came up to the register.

“How can I help you today?” Virgil asked the man, who was glancing around the decor. That type of customer was almost certainly drawn by the coffee, all blends hand-picked by Remy.

“I’ll be in and out in just a moment,” he replied with a small smile, and Remus stopped talking. “An espresso to go, please.”

Virgil nodded. “Sure, a moment-”

A blush crept up Remus’ cheeks, and he ducked his head with uncharacteristic shyness. As the man caught his eyes his entire expression softened, the hard lines of his face seeming to melt as his lips parted slightly, like he would say something. But, for once, he was speechless.

Janus looked as though he had been slapped in the face. “Are you acquainted?” he asked, in such a casual tone that Virgil knew he was deeply hurt. He arched an eyebrow as he waited for an answer.

“I- yes, I believe we are,” the customer gave a genial smile in return, his eyes fixed on Remus’. “Some time ago.”

Janus’ eyes narrowed. “Where do you know him from, Remus?”

There was a crinkle of plastic and leather as Remus shrugged. “Long story,” he said distantly.

Virgil slid a cup of coffee over to the man, who tapped a black card to the card reader and gave him a quick smile. “Keep the change,” he quipped. It was a tip some ten times greater than their recommended 20%.

“Thanks,” Virgil mumbled, but his focus was on his friend, who was drifting out of the door, as he tended to do at the end of a conversation. “Hey, Remus, we’ll see you later?” he called after him.

“Sure, Virgey!” he replied, giving him a quick grin before he held the door for the businessman, and the two of them walked out together. The older man ducked his head to whisper something into his ear, and Remus laughed and linked their arms as they headed into the street.

As soon as the door swung shut, a cloud settled over Janus’ expression. “Well,” he said, adjusting a sandwich which was just slightly out of line with the rest. “They say a stranger is a friend you haven’t met yet. It takes all sorts. To each, indeed, their-”

Before he could utter another saying, Virgil interrupted with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s not what it looks like.”

“And what does it look like?” Janus asked caustically. “Remus was acting unusually, yes?”

“Sometimes people get nervous,” he ventured. “If they like someone-” There wasn’t a single trait Remus said wasn’t his type; a silver fox with money was as good as any.

“Don’t say ‘like’, it’s so middle school,” he snapped, and Virgil flinched at the tone in his voice. He grabbed a cloth and headed over to a table which some regulars he knew were just vacating to wipe it down. Poor Loki’s funeral was going to be a tense event.

Except, as night fell and the cafe began to glow with the golden lights and the warmth of the ovens, and as Remy arrived to help them with the evening rush, Remus didn’t show up for the body in their freezer.

The brief liveliness Janus had shown bustling between the kitchen and the front faded as the final family trickled out. He waved away most of their offered money, seeing as it was a birthday party and he knew them, and Remy and Virgil made meaningful eye contact but didn’t protest.

As they closed, Remy filled the awkward silence with chatter about the men he was dating, the new hair product he had tried, the fact Remus never washed up when he was told to, and he was, like, so sick of it-

But no Remus appeared to defend himself, even after they left half-an-hour late and each one tried to call him.

He didn’t appear at Remy’s to sleep overnight, and he didn’t come into the cafe at all the next day.

That next night, Janus disappeared into the back, leaving Virgil to clean up by himself.

His stomach was upset, and he couldn’t help but think about that man over and over.

Long story- what exactly did “long story” mean?

Remy used the phrase when it really was a complicated story full of exes and rumours and friends of friends-

Virgil used it when he was asked why he didn’t speak to his family any more.

But he’d never seen Remus look like that before, and the guy had seemed nice- and there was an obvious suggestion for why his friend was busy overnight.

He realised he’d been wiping down the same table for the past five minutes.

“Virgil,” Janus said quietly behind him.

“Yeah?” he turned, and his brow immediately furrowed at his friend’s sombre expression.

He had his phone in one hand, and his hat in his other. “I’m going to ask you for a favour,” he said slowly. “You are quite free to decline it.” He paused. “I want to go to the house of the man who Remus went out with, and check that he’s alright.”

“I...don’t know that’s a good idea,” he said, twisting the spider badge on his apron so he could avoid the weight of his friend’s expression. “I mean...it could be an invasion of Remus’ privacy, if that was an old friend or-” Scared of causing further upset, he tilted his head to fill in ‘something else’.

“Yes, I know.” He sighed, looking out into the night through their plate-glass windows. “You know I’m not one for hunches-”

“Eh, you turned out a guy for being an undercover cop in like two seconds because he asked about ‘The Antifa’-”

Janus gave him a look with almost the level of exasperated fondness Remus engendered, and Virgil fell silent.

“I’m not one for hunches, but I’m usually right when I have them, then,” he finished lightly. “I have a very bad feeling, and a Google Search for anyone in the town who could possibly have a black card doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Anxiety coagulated in his stomach, but he tried for his final hope. “Are you sure it’s not...jealousy?”

He gave him a long, tired look. “The thought has never even been a worry of mine,” he said drily. “Still, I can go by myself, and make my own self a bother, worse, a fool.”

And it wasn’t really a question at all whether Virgil would let that happen. “Two of us is just a bother,” he replied with a confidence he didn’t feel, unclipping his badge from his apron and slipping it into his hoodie pocket.

Janus hung up his hat and put on a neat suit jacket over his outfit. “Thank you, really-”

He shook his head, opening the door so that a rush of petrichor and tarmac washed out the pervasive smell of coffee and food from the cafe. “Let’s go.”

They walked out into the night, still damp from the earlier rains. The lights of the shops around them reflected against the wet tarmac, and music pumped out of passing cars giddy with the promise of the coming weekend. They headed to the bus stop, Janus politely greeting every person they passed, and Virgil ducking his head so he didn’t have to. He didn’t know if the people who replied were familiar to his friend from the neighbourhood, or just trying to be polite in turn.

As soon as the bus stopped with a hiss of steam, Janus led him down to the back, and sat by the window, checking the map on his phone again. “It will be some time,” he said. “But, I ask you to be patient.”

“Course.” Virgil rested his head on Janus’ shoulder and closed his eyes. “Just tell me the stop before and I’ll be...right with you.” Moving vehicles lulled him to sleep anyway, and he would just worry the whole way otherwise.

“Of course.” Janus wrapped an arm around him, so he wasn’t jolted as the bus started again.

As Virgil dozed in fits and starts, the window changed from views of convenience stores and fast food shops to blocks of apartments, to anonymous offices and retail outlets, to high-walled parks, and then houses set back from the road by sweeping drive-ways or pavements almost as wide as the road was. Finally, his head was jostled off Janus’ shoulders, and he blinked as the stop dinged, too loud after the fog of sleep. Outside, it was pitch black but for the pools of light beneath the streetlights, and the golden glow which the mansions kept far behind barred gates.

They stumbled off the bus, and Janus checked his phone just once more before they headed off down one of the identical sides of the road.

Virgil pulled his hoodie close around him against the night chill. He considered putting his hood on to protect his ears from the nipping wind, but they were already two black men alone in a very white neighbourhood. It wasn’t worth it when his stomach was already rolling with anxiety. He rubbed his thumb over the badge in his pocket and tried to breathe the cold air in 4-7-8. They walked over empty roads, past rows and rows of similar houses, until they turned a corner and cars lined the road, piling into a single driveway which was illuminated like a Christmas lights display. A few fancily-dressed guests stood by the cars, but most of the noise came from inside. The house towered even its neighbours, and was built in the faux-Classical style which he hated.

Janus checked the address against his phone, then nodded. “That’s it. What did you call those, again? False temples?”

“Temples to dumb rich Americans and bad architecture,” Virgil supplied with a quirk of his lips.

“Quite right,” he replied, assessing the entrance. “And in all likelihood, Remus is stuck inside with his…”

“Yup.” He looked between his own patchwork hoodie and Janus’ dapper suit. “Maybe you could sneak in, but I definitely wouldn’t fit in.”

He straightened, and adjusted his bowtie. “Then we’ll go around the back,” he replied.

Virgil shook his head. “Nope, nope, nope, that’s- Jesus Christ, no, that’s a great way to get arrested or even shot. No.”

“Virgil,” Janus said quietly. “These past two months, Remus has visited us every day except that brief time after the fight over the milk cartons, or whatever it was-”

“I asked him to clean up a drop of milk and he poured the rest of the carton over my kitchen,” he said sourly, which he felt he was entitled to despite the situation.

“Yes, yes,” Janus dismissed. “Anyway- he always comes, doesn’t he? So now-”

“I have a really, really bad feeling- and bad thought, and bad everything-” he protested, backing away from the gate.

An orange sports car swerved past them, and parked horizontally across the driveway, and a young white man in a tracksuit the same colour as his car leapt out and gave them a wide grin. “Hey! Hey! Hello!” he yelled, and flashed them peace signs, to which Janus replied with a pained smile and Virgil a small wave. “Everything’s started- have they done the fireworks yet? Or the, shit, thing with the melted chocolate and it flows-”

“Chocolate fountain,” Janus supplied with the smile he reserved for his more aggravating customers. He slipped his arm into Virgil’s and pulled them forwards. “We were hoping to arrive for that too, ah-?” He waited for the man to supply his name, but instead-

“I like your hair!” he said to Virgil, admiring the spider web design. “Rad!”

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied, subtly trying to pull them backwards as Janus marched him to the door after the guest. “Your car is...yeah, that sure is a car.”

“Sure is!” he replied with a blindingly white smile. He flashed something at a bodyguard at the door- who had sunglasses, earpiece, everything- Virgil noted with a sickening thrill of fear.

“And your friends, sir?” the bodyguard asked.

“Yeah, yeah!” The guest tossed his car keys at his chest and headed through to a foyer filled with well-cut suits and low-cut dresses, champagne glasses and trays of canapes. Marble floors reflected the lighting, which glinted out from chandeliers above. A wide staircase glided up to the hidden upper floors.

“Oh, hey! Hey, you!” the young man yelled as soon as he got in, bounding over towards a woman who greeted him with a grin, raising her glass like a toast.

Janus and Virgil just blinked at each other. “Are you...sure?” Virgil asked quietly. “Remus is here?”

“I’m honestly not so sure any more,” Janus muttered to him. “But let’s not rely on whatever chemicals are keeping our dear friend happy, and start looking around.”

They moved through a throng of people and out into a wide ballroom, filled with yet more guests and a live string quartet playing in one corner. Along with the music was the trilling of occasional birdsong from tropical birds fluttering inside several oversized golden cages dotted around the room. A few others held white marble statues, but they couldn’t compare to the shifting flurries of reds, blues, and greens. Without agreeing on it aloud, the friends first went over to a small party congregated by one of them, in case the birds had attracted Remus.

“No, but then I said-” A balding man was proclaiming. “I said, Rudy, that’s not the Dow Jones Industrial Average at all.”

The group burst into laughter, Virgil gave Janus a bemused look, and they moved on.

Everyone was well-dressed, in sparkling necklaces or ties in jewel colours or even in more casual clothes, like the man from the sports car, which still seemed to drip wealth. Wearing sneakers with a suit wasn’t that fancy a look, but when even Virgil recognised that pair from an ad campaign for a luxury fashion line which would come out next month, he guessed it didn’t matter. Nobody looked at them twice. Still, there was nobody dressed in the contents of an entire rummage-sale bin with purple eyeshadow used as contour.

“There-” Janus whispered- “Is that?”

They both froze as they watched a man with a moustache waltz past in the arms of a lady dressed in black. It wasn’t Remus.

Virgil scanned the room again, eyes passing over the gilded cages, and the tropical birds and statues inside them- nobody in the crowd admiring them was any business of his-

As they parted, the figure inside the tallest gold cage became clear. It shifted position- an animatronic? He looked more closely as it moved after everyone had turned away, fiddling with golden chains around its-

“Oh God-” he whispered. “Look.”

Virgil was an avowed atheist, but if the person inside the cage wasn’t a statue, he must have been an angel. His shining hair was cut short to show of the clean marble lines of his face. His chest was sculpted too, covered in scars which looked like they must have come from a golden sword like the one he was gripping. He looked as if he would swing it into position if not for the gold chains wrapped around his arms, tethering him to the delicate bars of the cage. He was gazing out into the distance.

Most striking of all, dove-grey wings crested over his shoulders and trailed all the way down to his ankles. His white tunic contrasted the hints of pale purple, pink and blue shimmering in his wings.

It was one of the most beautiful sights Virgil had ever seen.

He glanced at Janus for his reaction.

He found only an expression of absolute horror. Janus was completely silent for a moment, struggling for words, before he gasped. "Oh, Remus- what did they do to you?”

A cold feeling washed over him.

No- those were their friend's grey eyes, and that was the shape of his face, stripped of his facial hair and usual tacky makeup. No wonder Virgil hadn't recognised him.

Compared to the usual chaotic spark in his expression, he looked blank. As if his mind was somewhere else entirely- or like he'd been drugged.

Still, Virgil couldn’t help but be drawn back to his wings; they were hyper-realistic, even twitching as he tried to tense his shoulders to alleviate the pressure of the chains on his arms. And the amount of feathers it would have taken to make that shifting, downy gradient...not even all of Remus’ flock had that many. It was compelling, but sickening.

It felt wrong to look over his arms and legs when he was usually so adamant about covering them, so he dropped his eyes and tried to erase the knowledge of how muscled Remus was beneath his usual shapeless outfit.

It wasn’t that Virgil found his friend attractive exactly, but with wings like that, dressed like that- he was a centerpiece, clearly, and even as his stomach churned with the wrongness of the display, it was a palpable effort to keep his gaze from snapping back to him. “I’m gonna be sick,” he muttered to Janus.

“He’d never, ever choose to dress himself like that in front of everyone," Janus whispered, anger crackling red at the edges of his quiet voice. "And even if he did, he’d never shave off his moustache.”

He shook his head. “So...what do we do?”

In response, Janus sauntered over to the left, took a champagne flute from a waiter, and then gestured for his friend to follow. They zigzagged through the crowd until they got closer to Remus, whose eyes remained glazed and distant.

They stopped just by him. Up close, it was clear the tunic was some kind of cotton material, and the sword had blunted edges. He was wearing makeup too, and a lump in his mascara made Virgil feel another sharp pang of pity. As ridiculous as painting them on would have been, how real the scars looked in comparison to the rest of the outfit was jarring. He was built and scarred like a fighter, and all the little touches to make him look delicate only emphasised how roughened he was. Both were at odds with everything he knew of his friend.

“Remus,” Janus whispered. The name fell like a plea. “Remus, it’s us.”

All of a sudden, the man’s eyes snapped to them, his expression melting into disbelief. “Remus?” he echoed. It was as quiet as a whisper from a crypt. “You know him?”

“You’re-” Janus’ face fell. “Remus, that’s you-”

The man almost imperceptibly shook his head. “Twins, we’re twins- you know him? Please, is he okay?” He looked almost identical, though up close the differences began to stand out. He was probably more muscular, but who could tell under all of Remus’ clothes? The main differences were a gap between this twin’s front teeth and, more than that, his eyes. Even as he looked at them desperately, there was something missing from them, some jolt of hope or excitement which just wasn’t there. Their heaviness was an uncomfortable weight on Virgil’s face.

He wrapped an arm around himself. “Sorry, he went missing-”

“But we tracked the man he left with back here,” Janus filled in. “Isn’t he here too?”

The man shook his head again. “No, I- I’ll earn more information, after this. I don’t know anything,” he whispered. “I just know he found him, and he wants him to come back without a fight.”

Virgil never should have just watched as that man walked Remus out of the coffee shop. Long story his ass- “What the fuck is happening?”

Remus’ twin tried to shrug and then winced as the movement tugged on the chains. His wings fluttered with the movement. “They just tranqued us the first time. I don’t know why he’s delaying recapture-” He took a deep breath. “Just tell him to run away as soon as he can.” His grey eyes hardened to steel. “He might as well keep doing it.”

“I will if I can find him, thank you.” Janus took a small sip of his champagne. “What exactly was the capture for, if I can ask?”

The captive glanced around the room, and at the movement Virgil cut his eyes to the side. Nobody watched that he could see. “The wings, of course,” he said with a bitter smile. “Yes, yes, they’re real, go ahead and look at them.”

Janus’ eyes widened, subtly taking in the wings.

“My name’s Roman,” he continued in a low, urgent voice. “Tell him that Roman said to run, okay? Don’t listen to any of their offers or threats. I’m not a gladiator anymore; I’m here instead. It’s...not too bad.”

As Janus opened his mouth, Roman shook his head. “Don’t talk to me too long.”

“We can get you out,” Virgil said before he knew what he was thinking. “Whatever this is-”

“Go,” Roman insisted. “It’s not worth trying to do anything for me. And don’t call the police-”

Janus rolled his eyes. “You really don’t need to worry about that.”

“Fine.” he lifted his eyes to the middle distance again. “You should go now. Please.”

Virgil gave a little nod, taking Janus’ arm. “Okay. We’re gonna go.”

“Thank you,” Janus added. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but then let Virgil lead him away.

He steered them back through the ballroom with their backs to Roman, trying not to glare into the eyes of each of the guests they passed. It would almost have been easier if there was a big fuss and show about the captive man, rather than the chatting and dancing and gossiping with, oh, a living being as a conversational curiosity-

As they came back into the entrance, Janus began to turn towards the sweeping staircase.

“No,” Virgil said under his breath, trying to tug him back to the doorway. “No fucking way. I know you’re angry but-”

“I’m not angry,” he replied coolly. “I am, rather, curious. Because I don't think they tell everything to Roman, and we’re not going to get luck like this again. Any information will help.”

He glanced up at where the staircase twisted out of sight. If Remus was up there, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. And, despite his words, Janus was throw-ignorant-customers-out-of-the-cafe mad. Except, he wasn’t quoting memoirs of increasingly obscure activists or putting neat yellow gloves on in warning, so Virgil didn’t know what he would do.

On cue, Janus reached into his breast pocket and drew out the gloves. He slipped one on, tugging it into place. “Better for fingerprints, and more neat.” He glanced at Virgil. “You don’t have to come with me, in fact it may be better if you didn’t.”

It wasn’t fair for Janus to pull on his ridiculous gloves like a boxer about to face a much bigger opponent, and ask him not to fight by his side. Even if Virgil had decided to leave the party, it wouldn’t have been fair.

“I will,” he said, tucking his hands into hoodie paws. His heart was thumping against his ribcage as if it would break out- that was a thought to tell Remus when they saw him. “I’m gonna complain about it afterwards.”

Despite his apparent composure, it took Janus a moment too long to answer as his eyes traced Virgil’s face. “Of course.” He took his arm. “Shall we?”

He was half-expecting an alarm to blare as soon as they set foot on the first stair- but nobody noticed. They took another few steps, feet sinking into the thick red runner. The back of his neck prickled with stares, but he knew from long experience that those were imagined. Or were they? No, that was anxiety. Janus’ hand tightened on his forearm and he stopped. Above, someone paced past on a wooden floor in the measured rhythm of a guard. He gagged.

“Deep breaths,” Janus murmured.

“I hate this,” he replied. Then he forced a breath in his nose and out of his mouth.

After the footsteps faded, they kept walking until Virgil moved his heavy boot onto the polished wood floor as gently as possible. Identical two-panel white doors stretched along the hallway without any noticeable distinction, until the corridor took a right turn at the end of the row.

“You take the left, I’ll take the right,” Virgil whispered, and Janus nodded.

With their footsteps echoing almost too loud on the floor, they each crept to the far ends of the hallway. There was nothing beyond the corner except another staircase, and thankfully no more doors.

He tried the door handle on the far right with his sleeve over his hand, and it turned. He nudged it open and peeked in to see a huge bedroom strewn with suitcases and clothes, and a sparkling necklace of diamonds carelessly draped over a black dress. But no Remus. He shut it and moved onto the next.

Locked. The next was too. His hands were shaking like there was a motor in them.

He closed his eyes and leant his head against the wall, trying to ground himself in the sensation. Okay. Next one- unlocked.

It was a bathroom, all white marble and gold like downstairs. He closed the door and glanced over to Janus, who shook his head.

He glanced at the staircase before crossing the corridor and turning the handle of the middle door slightly.

A voice rose behind the door, deeper and smoother than Remus’. “Hello?”

Virgil reached in desperation for the next door handle as footsteps sounded from inside, and tugged it open in time for Janus to walk in quickly and efficiently in the rhythm of the security guard. He followed with a few strides, shutting the door behind him in with a fumbled click. The room was an empty guest bedroom. Janus was hiding himself under the bed before Virgil caught his arm and pulled him out. He headed to the big sliding window.

“Please, please-” he whispered to himself, trying to lift it. Locked, locked, oh God-

Janus searched the mantelpiece for a moment before pressing a cold key into Virgil’s hand. He tried to put it in but his hands were shaking too badly and he couldn’t-

Janus took it off him. It fit with a click.

Virgil pushed up the window in a rush of cool air. He climbed out onto the little ornamental balcony running between a few windows and stood flat to the wall, chest heaving, before Janus followed with a tumble. He reached over and shut the window while Janus crouched down below the sill. The room was still empty.

Virgil slid down the wall, trembling hands over his mouth. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and he was sure he would be sick-

Janus had curled into a ball, forehead to the stone of the balcony.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that.

After a while, they ended up both sitting side by side in the space between the two windows, hands twisted together. It was silent.

Virgil glanced back into the room. “It’s empty,” he whispered. “We should leave.”

Janus nodded. “One moment-” He crept towards the other window and peeked in the bottom before he dropped to the ground, hand over his mouth.

Virgil widened his eyes. On cue, his heart finished its brief rest.

Janus pointed to his suit jacket, then made a rectangle shape with his fingers. Virgil frowned. His friend repeated the gesture, and it clicked. Black card.

He so, so badly wanted to run now, but instead he crawled over to poke Janus in the side so he would move over to give him space by the window. Their eyes met, and Virgil pulled his hood over his cold ears to settle in for a wait. He kept his head down, pillowed on his forearms, while Janus risked peeking up every few minutes.

Suddenly, Janus grabbed his arm. Virgil lifted his head. He could just about see Roman standing in the doorway, rubbing at the deep red marks around his forearms, and the captor leaning back in a leather armchair holding a glass.

Janus put his hands up to the window-

“Janus,” Virgil hissed, but then the window slid a crack upwards and voices travelled through.

“Quite the party, wasn’t it?” the captor said, pouring himself a drink.

Roman nodded too quickly. “Yeah,” he said in a hoarse voice, attempting a smile which didn’t reach his eyes, which were fixed on a closed silver laptop on a side table. “Yes, it was...very grand!”

He rolled his eyes. “What did you think of the decor?”

“Quite magnificent! Like a- an aviary in a palace.” His wings were trembling as though there were a breeze running through them.

Tilting his head and looking Roman up and down, the captor spoke just as genially as he had in the cafe. “You really aren’t as interesting as your brother was. Too many blows to the head, no doubt.”

Roman’s mouth tightened. His fists had too.

Against the deep, comfortable, red-brown tones of leather and what must have been genuine mahogany, and the backs of books all bound neatly and sticking out of the shelf as though frequently read, Roman’s outfit stood out as even more fake. Gold accents in the sandals he was wearing matched the subtle gold trimmings of the room, but if the study were a convincing stage, Roman looked like a badly cast understudy.

The captor laughed. “Predictable. This isn’t the fighting pits.”

Virgil and Janus shared a look before watching again.

“Your brother’s been living like a tramp and he’s still more beautiful than you are, under all the mess,” he commented, as casually as if he was observing the weather. Roman’s eyebrows drew together, watching for the end of the statement. He brought up a hand to cover a scar along the edge of his neck. “He’s not as scraped up as you, of course. And he really-” He swirled his whiskey for a moment before taking a sip of it. “He really is genuine. You can imagine worse things than this, can’t you?”

He paused, then nodded.

He shrugged. “He can’t. That’s the difference.”

Janus grabbed Virgil’s hand. He curled over and pressed it to his own forehead. Virgil rested his hand on his back and bent to whisper in his ear. “Hey, only I need to listen, so-”

He shook his head and Virgil cut off, peeking back over the windowsill.

For just a moment Roman glanced at the window before he asked, “So, where is Remus anyways?” He seemed to freeze as he waited for the answer, a statue once again.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” He held his hand out and Roman looked at him blankly. “The laptop,” he snapped.

“Oh!” He grabbed it from the side table and tried to hand it over from a distance.

He took it and flipped it open. Roman stepped back immediately, hopping from one foot to the other like a boxer. Virgil felt himself tapping on Janus’ back in sympathy.

The captor flipped the screen open and typed for a moment before he began to read something. Virgil felt Janus’ chest go still.

The captor laughed. “Oh, would you look at that- “Queer Eye’s Karamo Brown urged to cut ties with Salvation Army”.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing worse than a hypocrite- did you know about this?”

Remus’ brother’s jaw tensed and he shook his head.

He carried on reading for a little while, tutting, and then switching to another tab. “Okay, fine- come and look.”

He crossed the room to stand behind the man, hands gripping onto the back of the sofa as if he would fall over without its support.

“Don’t touch the furniture.” With a roll of his eyes, he reached his hand behind him, twisted his hand into his captive’s wing- then tugged. As he pulled a handful of feathers away Virgil winced, but Roman only reacted with a tightening of his hands. Then he took a measured step back from the couch.

“You know,” the captor said so softly that Virgil had to strain to hear him. “You know, Remus would have cried and cried at that.” He scattered the feathers, spotted with blood, over the floor. “That, or started swearing- and the crying would come after that.”

“You’ve told me before,” Roman snapped. As soon as he spoke, he froze again. “Oh, uh- I’m sorry-”

The laptop clicked shut. “I asked you to behave this evening,” the captor said, getting up and tucking it under his arm. Virgil and Janus crouched down further. For some reason, a tiny chip in the stone paving caught Virgil’s eyes. A tiny fissure ran from it into the rest of the solid slab. “That meant all of this evening.”

“Please-” His voice broke, and pitched high it sounded like Remus’. Janus’ hand tightened on Virgil’s until it hurt.

“Out.”

Virgil tugged on Janus’ hand and bent his head to his ear. “C’mon, we need to go.”

Janus looked up. His eyes were shining, and at the same time Virgil felt like a monster for not crying and a sharp annoyance that his friend had given into his emotions. He took a deep breath, and both feelings passed. He tugged on his hand again. “Okay, time to go,” he whispered.

He decided not to risk closing the window while the man was still in the room, just nudging Janus to the side. They crept across the balcony, slid up the far window, and climbed through one after the other, painfully slow.

They padded through the empty room, then opened the door and slipped out together. Downstairs, the last of the party guests were trailing out, either upright with exhaustion shining in their eyes to match the sparkle of their jewels, or with the help of a few discreet employees supporting champagne-soggy legs. Wordlessly, Janus slung his arm over Virgil’s shoulder, and he let his friend lean on him as they passed security and walked down the long drive to the dark street. He was heavy, but Virgil was careful not to stumble.

They carried on walking that way until the corner, when Janus straightened up and adjusted his jacket. Still, they crossed the road side-by-side and didn’t speak.

As they walked, the bottom of the sky was being washed out into greyness. The houses were unlit now, and they looked smaller in the dark. It just barely smelt of metallic dew. Virgil thought he might start screaming if he opened his mouth.

They reached the bus station sooner than expected. There was half-an-hour before the first early-morning bus. With a huff of air, he sat down on the pavement and leaned his back against the pole.

“Well that was just what we expected, wasn’t it?” Janus said lightly. He stayed standing, facing the mansion they had come from. Virgil looked up at him in silence. “I’m going to murder that man,” he continued in the same tone. “The security for that house is shocking. I’m sure it isn’t that hard. Perhaps I should let the twins do it, though.”

He nodded. “I’ll help bury the body.”

“You know, Virgil,” Janus met his eyes. “You really are the best friend anyone could ask for.”

"What?" he mumbled as he looked down. "He was a dick."

"Come now, you also broke into the house of someone connected to illegal fighting rings whose interior decoration tended to the alive and miserable.”

Heat flooded into his face. “Least I can do.”

“Quite a bit more than the least.” His lips quirked into a smile. “Especially for someone who was terrified of talking to customers a year ago.”

"Oh, shut up." He poked Janus' neat brogue with his boot. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes here figured out the whole thing anyway." His chest felt funny, and he hugged his arms around it.

"Well, Watson," He took a deep breath and decided to stop tormenting Virgil with his tenderness. "I have our final deduction- the man had no clue where Remus is."

"Really?"

Janus shook his head. “He was just looking for an excuse for Roman to slip up the whole time. Taunting him, the furniture, physically hurting him- it was all trying to push him to some tiny ‘infraction’ so he could bluff about the information.”

“Huh.” He replayed the events and nodded slowly. “Sure, I can see that. Still, we don’t know if he’s always like that. He didn’t deny the information when Roman touched the furniture- which is a fucked up rule, Jan- I don’t know if him not saying where Remus is was an excuse at all. He said Remus was better than his brother, and he gets pissed when you suggest cutting those clumps out of his hair. He must have been-” He regretted saying it to Janus, but it was deduction time. “He must have been really- cruel to him for Remus to act anything like Roman. He enjoys being cruel, clearly.”

“You’re right.” He twisted the finger of his glove. “Still, surely telling Roman about how scared Remus was would upset him. And he didn’t, so something doesn’t add up.”

Well, his intuition hadn’t lied before. “So what do we do?”

“We find Remus first.” He straightened his shoulders. “Remy would have texted if he went back to the apartment, we can assume he’s not at the cafe since he was found there, and he could have gone to his usual parks and streets but if he’s being watched he wouldn’t. So, where would he go?”

“It wouldn’t be anywhere with a lot of people,” Virgil added. “Or maybe even with a lot of birds, since they all come to him. Somewhere abandoned?”

Janus nodded. “I think we could check out some of the old warehouse districts.”

He nodded. “Sounds like a start. That one’s only ten minutes after the home one.”

They waited quietly, each caught up in their own thoughts. The bus to their district began trundling past until it slowed down for them and the door opened.

Janus shook his head at the driver. “Sorry, we’re not coming.”

She began to close the doors again without comment.

“Wait!” Virgil waved at her. “Wait a moment! Wait-”

She stopped with a huff almost as loud as the bus’ exhaust. Janus let Virgil pull him through the door by his hand, tapping his card dutifully.

He raised an eyebrow as they stumbled into some seats.

“Where’s the place we were talking about running to just before, uh, bird-friend left?” Virgil whispered, even though he doubted the tired commuters would be listening in for names and details. “And where can you bury the kind of bird friend in our freezer? And where wouldn’t be a place you’d search?”

“The forest?” he replied. There was only a scrubby patch of it outside the city.

“Yup. Look, we should go back to the cafe to get Loki, anyone asks and we’re just, you know, getting rid of the health violation in the fridge in a way which isn’t a health risk to a park or anything.”

Janus stifled a yawn. “That’s very smart.”

“Thanks, it was kinda impulsive, but-” Virgil shrugged as he looked out the window at the unrelenting row of houses. “I’m happy to be out of there.” He tucked his arm around his friend. “And you can nap until we get there.”

“I’m just fine, Virgil,” Janus replied, affronted. “Besides, I don’t want to rumple my outfit.”

Virgil gave an exaggerated yawn himself, and Janus immediately followed. He glared at him, which only made Virgil give him a small grin. “Bedtime.”

He was met with a head thunking onto his shoulder. “You had better wake me up in time,” he threatened.

“I will.” He readjusted so he was more comfortable. “We’ll be fine.”

*

By time they reached the cafe the sky was white and grey. Virgil waited by the bus stop, leaning his head against it as a half-asleep Janus unlocked the front. After enough time for Virgil to consider if he could sleep upright (five minutes), he reappeared with a canvas bag with a rainbow flag hand-printed on it, and a stack of three sandwiches, which he handed to Virgil.

The bus came soon after, and they collapsed into one of the back seats.

They had barely finished the sandwiches by the time they reached their next stop. They got out onto a cracked bit of sidewalk and looked at the trees rising above them. Silent, they walked forward until the concrete suddenly ended.

Virgil breathed in the stench of wild garlic and dug his toe into the slimy layer of dead leaves. Damp air curled in his mouth as though it would die peacefully there. Something chittered in the distance, and then cut off suddenly. He tried to tilt his head up to look at the trees and suddenly the vertigo of only sleeping for a few hours on the bus journeys hit him.

It was a world away from the gilded cage and the dizzying party.

He took a deep breath. “This feels right.”

Janus nodded. He tucked the bag under his arm carefully. “I hope…” he trailed off softly. “Well, Virgil, let us venture onwards.”

He touched his friend’s elbow for just a moment before he walked into the dark trees. After a moment, Janus followed, and they walked on together.

There was occasional litter, plastic bags and water bottles, but as they got deeper into the thick trees and tangled brambles along the forest floor it disappeared. Janus winced as he tried to lift his perfectly shone shoes over a muddy patch Virgil’s leather boots trudged through with ease. The trees were stout and gnarled, fungus protruding out of them like infections.

They wandered without any real direction, just trying to make their way further into the labyrinth of trees.

Virgil suddenly caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye and he grabbed his friend’s arm.

It could have been a pile of abandoned clothes and torn out feathers-

But there was a glimpse of leopard print, and the vague outline of wings, and a low crooning coming from the figure curled there.

Janus crouched down six feet away from him, laying Loki’s bag by his side. “Remus,” he said so softly that Virgil barely heard it. “Remus, it’s Janus.”

Remus froze. Then his wings curved up around him. They were a lot taller than Janus was crouching. A pair of grey eyes came up to meet Janus’. His lips parted as he looked over the two of them. His purple and green makeup was smeared together until it looked like a black eye, and even his moustache seemed to have its own case of bed-head.

“We-” Virgil cleared his throat against a sudden lump. “Well, Janus, mostly, he found the guy’s house? And we went there, and, uh, we were worried about you so we looked.”

His eyes widened.

“We found your brother,” Janus said in a quiet voice. “Roman. He told us to tell you that he wasn’t a gladiator any more; he was there instead. That it, uh, wasn’t too bad.”

For a moment, Remus stopped breathing. Then he brought his hands up to his head, slumping his shoulders and letting his wings wrap around himself. “Bullshit,” he said hoarsely. “What else did he say?”

Janus bit his lip. “He told you to run away as soon as you could, and not to listen to anything they offered or threatened.”

Remus made a strangled yelping laugh which set Virgil’s teeth on edge. His wings were trembling so much that there was a slight breeze on his face. “Roman’s saviour goddamn hero bullshit-” He twined his fingers into his hair and started tugging. “He’s not- fuck,” he winced as he caught a matted section. “Not pathetic enough for that job.”

Janus tried to reach a hand out to untangle his hands from his hair, but Remus only stilled and leaned his head into his glove. Janus gently tugged at his wrist, but Remus wrapped his fingers around his hand and held it to his hair.

“Dude, you’re not pathetic. You broke out of that place all by yourself?” Virgil found his voice off-putting in the silence, but he kept speaking. “That’s hard. And you hid in the same town, in plain sight, for ages. And-”

“I ran away,” Remus said into his knees. “And I knew he’d get punished or die. He had to fight people. All goring out eyeballs and pulling out guts by the handful. Or the clawful. Depended on what kind of people were captured.”

“There are more people like you?”

He shrugged and, just like his brother, the movement made his wings move. “With the weird animal thing? Oh, sure. I would rather have a tentacle dick but you get what you get.” He spoke without humour.

Janus pressed a tiny kiss to the back of his hand, not seeming to care about the smear of dirt on it. “Darling, I’m sure you’re well enough endow-”

“No!” Virgil yelled, holding his hands up. “I have risked myself too many times today for you two to have to listen to that from you.”

Remus shrunk back further into a ball. “Sorry.”

For a moment Virgil was struck genuinely speechless. Then his brow furrowed. “Hey, no, I was just teasing.”

Janus turned to glare at him. He widened his eyes in response. Maybe he should have guessed Remus would be more delicate, but, well, it was Remus.

“Anyway, it’s okay, alright?” he attempted.

“Yeah, sure.” He lifted his head and smudged his makeup even more with the heel of his hand. “Fine.”

Virgil pulled the third sandwich out of his pocket and handed it over. “Figured you’d want that.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Remus took it and began to carefully undo the wrapping. He took a small bite of the corner. “Mom and Dad are normal but Roman and I just were just born this way- oh there ain’t no other way,” he sang as he shimmied his wings. “But we lived in the middle of nowhere, and we stayed at home our whole lives, even though we talked a lot about hiding ourselves so that we could move. We kept ourselves to ourselves and we had a farm.” He threw his crust to the forest floor, seemingly by habit of having his flock around him. “Hope they didn’t search there for me; that would suck. Our parents saw us get captured, so at least they know what happened.”

Janus nodded as he listened. “How long ago was that?”

“Two years.” He stuffed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth.

“Goodness,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine.”

The corners of Remus’ moustache twitched up into a smile. “Nah, you couldn’t. Thanks,” he said through the remains of his sandwich.

Virgil waited for him to finish eating.

“We brought Loki with us, in the bag,” he said. “We figured it would be a good cover, and we can hold the funeral here.” He reached into the bag to pull out a trowel. They definitely hadn’t had one in the cafe, so Janus must have stored it there after Remus disappeared.

Janus reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a bag of classic Lays. He handed them over to Remus. “I do hope the flavour’s alright. I think it’s a classic.”

“Perfect,” he muttered. He stumbled up to his feet with a wince, holding his wings out for balance. Even without them fully spread out, the wingspan blocked the entire section of tree behind him. He rolled his shoulders back and flapped his wings.

Both of them stared.

Remus grinned and widened his eyes. “I can fly, you know. I could shit on you midair like-” All at once, his face crumpled and he held a hand up to his mouth. “Sorry, it all hit me again,” he said with a voice like sandpaper.

Virgil put his hoodie sleeve over his mouth as he swallowed back a guilty laugh. He started digging into the soft forest soil to distract himself.

He heard a flutter of feathers- had he been missing that under the whisper of all Remus’ shifting clothes before? - and then sobbing into a suit jacket. It was kind of scratchy on your face, Virgil knew, but it hid tears pretty well. He moved his whole shoulder into his digging, watching a depression form as the other two murmured words of upset and comfort to each other.

“I thought it was you,” whispered Janus against the shell of Remus’ ear. “And- my heart just stopped.”

“I wish it was.” Remus leant his forehead against Janus’ chest.

“But then how would I hold you, hm?” he replied, and there was the brush of fabric on fabric. “We’ll get him out.”

“You promise?” Remus said, and Virgil’s hand clenched around the handle. It wasn’t a good idea to-

“Promise. Split my chest open with a pickaxe and hope to pickle my heart.”

There was a wet laugh. “Kinky.”

“Come now, that was romance as well as kink.” His best friend’s voice was unbearably soft.

A warm feeling settled in Virgil’s chest despite the chill of the weather. Dammit. He stabbed the trowel into the ground again, ignoring the wetness in his own eyes.

He kept digging, until a set of feathers nudged into his face. “Did you poke me from all the way over there?” Virgil asked incredulously. Remus’ wing was as wide as he was tall, and he used it to poke him in the cheek again. It was a little disconcerting to see how much it moved like, well, a limb of his.

A feather brushed over the tears on his cheek. The wing retracted, and Remus came over to kneel by him and take the trowel. He sunk it into the ground, gouging out a huge section of earth with a small battle-cry. He flung it over his shoulder rather than adding to Virgil’s careful pile and then grinned at him.

A smile tugged at his mouth as he reached for the bag. “I think you finished the grave.”

He carefully wrapped the pigeon in the canvas bag Janus had chosen for her and handed it to Remus.

He looked at the little bundle in his hands for a long moment. Then he took her out of the bag. He began to unwind the plastic wrap.

Janus winced.

“That’s not clean-” Virgil whispered.

“It’s going to pollute the forest otherwise,” he replied without looking away from the corpse in his hands. “This is more natural. Besides, they’re pretty clean birds.”

So they watched in silence as he carefully took it all off and placed her in the grave. She was still intact, though her body had stiffened. “Thanks for being here, even if you were technically using her to stalk me,” he said. “Um, this was Loki. She was mischievous, and bold, and really smart. I’m going to miss her.” He cleared his throat and nodded, eyes wet. “Okay. Ready.”

Virgil scooped a handful of dirt with his trowel and scattered it over her. It pattered softly against the earth. Remus was staring hard into the distance. A few rays of sun poked through the trees as he pushed the rest of the dirt back into place. “Should we leave some rocks or something?”

Janus nodded. “I can collect-”

“I thought Roman was dead until a few days ago,” Remus interrupted. It sounded like a statement from a scratchy vinyl recording. “Ghosties are easier to carry around than big living brothers who got jacked from murder. Whatever you need me to do to get him out, I’ll do it. Killing, going back- whatever.”

“I don’t need you to do those things,” Janus said firmly. “All I need you to do now is come to my apartment,” he turned to his friend. “I’m not putting you in any further danger, Virgil-”

“Bullshit.”

He paused, brow furrowing. “Beg pardon?”

“That’s bullshit,” he repeated. “This is the part where you’re you’re going to think you’re being really smart about everything,” he held his hands up, “but you stick to your principles too much and you risk yourself and maybe those two-”

“Thank you for your confidence, Virgil,” he said acidicly.

“Anyway.” This was a spectacularly bad idea. “I’m helping.”

Defensive, his voice grew more formal. “If this is about the court cases, or the job, I promise you that you owe me nothing-”

“I like you, and I like Remus, and I don’t like what’s happening.” He shrugged. “It’s not a big thing; it’s just as simple as that. Okay?”

After a moment, Janus gave a nod.

“Aw, you like me?” Remus cooed. He wiggled his shoulders and grinned, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Course.”

Janus gave Remus a helplessly fond smile. “Then it’s decided. I think we could all use some sleep, then we start this evening.”

[fangirlincorporated-blog]

The Lucky Australian

~~ 19 Alive ~~

I wanted everything I never had

Like the love that comes with light

I wore envy and I hated that

But I survived

I had a one-way ticket to a place where all the demons go

Where the wind don't change

And nothing in the ground can ever grow

No hope, just lies

And you're taught to cry into your pillow

But I survived

 They remained under the air con waiting for he heat to pass, Aurora turning on her playstation to game with Henry. Henry noticed she much preferred survivalist horror, he watched her play a bit of dying light before Henry took over.

“It would make a great TV show” Aurora remarked, watching Henry try and escape a group of volatiles during a night mission, he had to admit, his heart rate and adrenalin were up, his hairs were standing to attention all over his body, it was unsettling and scary, but so addictive.

“I have to say, I didn’t really get too much time to get into it, but this is incredible, it’s not easy”

Aurora snorted. “That’s coz I play on nightmare mode”

Henry stole a glance at her.

“That’s hardcore”

Aurora beamed at him.

After a while, Henry noticed Aurora had fallen asleep next to him, her hands curled up underneath her face. Something caught his attention, pausing the game he looked at her arms.

There were white scars littered on them, some thin, some large. They were precise. Henry knew what they were.

He put the controller on the coffee table and hung his head. He felt so drawn out, so ripped from his skin, so weary down to his bones, so sad. All this he felt for her.

How unfair could life be to a person that only seemed to be a light in the darkness, how was she supposed to endure so much death and heartache and still consistently wake up in the fucking morning?

Henry felt the wetness of tears on his face. The burden of life seems so heavy for some, so light for others.

The never ending, continuous stream of emotion, was the pain his heart was feeling for her, as if it could simply reach out to her and out her all back together. For everything she endured, she was stronger than anyone he knew, but life shouldn’t have to throw that shit at you to make you strong. It shouldn’t have you drag you to a place where the demons go to build character. It shouldn’t have happened like that for her.

So why did it?

He cried for her. Her pain, her heartache, for everything she had been through. He cried because in the short time he knew her, he knew she deserved so much more than what life had given her. Yet, she was still here, she was still alive, still breathing, still waking in the morning next to him. Aurora had issues with her existence, she had not been fond of life, but henry was glad she was a living being.

Henry felt pickles nudge her furry little face under his hands. She looked up at him with her endless brown eyes. He smiled down sadly at her and gave her a scratch behind the ears.

“Its been a big day fluffy butt!” Slowly, he raised himself up off the couch and walked to the bathroom. Washing his face, he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

The women he had dated had been easier, this was all new territory, but somehow, he wasn’t shying away from her, from this. Henry knew he loved her, he knew she was all he needed and wanted. Still it didn’t take the sting out of the day.

He walked back into the lounge room to find Aurora waking up. She looked at the spot where Henry had been, confusion plastered on her still sleepy features. Hearing his footsteps she peered up at him and smiled. Holding out her arms, Henry all but ran into them.

He held her for a few minutes before she parted from him.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m ok, it’s just an intense game. Went to wash my face”

Aurora stared at him, she knew he was lying but she didn’t push it.

“Well, since its 3pm, most of the out of towners would’ve gone home by now, wanna go for a swim? Then we can get a drink at the beach bar? Maybe dinner out?”

“That’s sounds nice. Although you have promised to make me some Italian food!”

Aurora rolled her eyes, a smirk on her face.

“I did, so let’s go to the beach, then I’ll make dinner!” she bounded off the lounge, going to the bedroom, Henry following her.

~~~~~~~~

October rolled into November, with December fast approaching. Henry had spent the whole month getting to know the area Aurora lived in, while she was at work. She had taken him hiking in the Blue Mountains many times, he was still amazed at the travel Australians undertook all the time. A 4-hour round-trip barely tiring her out as well as hiking, meanwhile Henry would be wiped out from the whole day. His favourite days though, were the ones he got to spend at the beach, or even just wandering around the place she lived, day drinking at a few different pubs, watching the ships roll in past the horizon. Or simply enjoying wherever she took him for lunch and dinner. He particularly enjoyed the day she took him to Sydney to Bennelong. Aurora had waxed lyrical about how amazing it was, and it did not disappoint. He had to admit; he was very rarely surprised by anything, now he understood why she had told him to dress up, the restaurant was in the Sydney opera house, with a view looking out at the harbour bridge. It was fucking spectacular. Henry had tried to pay once he figured out it was a fine dining establishment. Aurora has shut that idea down quite fast, given he had taken her out in Venice; this was the least she could do. It was quite sweet. They spent the night in Sydney, Henry had stayed at a few hotels in his travels, but Aurora had pulled out all the stops when he entered the room. The room overlooked the entire Sydney Harbour. It stopped him in his tracks, rendering him breathless. Henry spent that night making sure Aurora knew how much he loved her.

~~~~~~~~

Henry found himself sitting in Aurora’s office, answering mundane emails and going over scripts he had been sent, he could hear Aurora in the other room singing along to crowded house, a new favourite of his she had introduced him too. There was so much he had learnt about Aurora, her favourite band, her favourite games, her favourite sports teams (of which he now followed by default and she had promised to take him to a game come the start of the season), pet hates, favourite ice cream. He came to really love Australia; it was going to be hard to leave. Everything he loved was here.

Suddenly, a video call came through. Noticing it was Charlie, he picked up.

“Are we getting you back to the northern hemisphere?” Charlie asked.

“Fuck no, not when you look as cold as you do! Canada in the minus yet?”

“Unfortunately. More snow too, so how is the land down under?”

“Fucking glorious, it’s so hot, but I love it! Air conditioning is the most amazing thing ever invented.”

Charlie rolled his eyes “you make it sound like it’s the worlds greatest invention you’ve never heard of. You have that in England, and in Florida. You know the other place you also live?”

“It’s not as good in England. I know, but here it’s just on all the time. I really love it here; I’m only a 5minute walk to the beach. We sat a pub the other day watching ships come in, that has to be my new favourite hobby” Henry smiled

“Wow, and here I thought it was hammertime”

“War hammer Charlie!”

“Same, same. Since I haven’t spoken to you much in a month, did you end up finding out what happened with Aurora’s last relationship? I know you were worried.”

“Charlie, hold on.” Henry got up to close the door. He sat back down and told Charlie everything that had happened.

 Henry lost track of the time he and Charlie had been talking. It was nice to be able to talk to one of his brothers. He hadn’t realised how heavy things had weighed on his heart, Charlie listening to him lessened the burden. Another call came in, from his manager.

“Charlie, I gotta go, Dany is calling”

“As long as you’re ok?”

“I am Charlie, I do really love her.” He watched Charlie smile. Saying their goodbyes, he answered Dany.

“Henry, I have an invitation to the Oscars, can you be stateside in Feb?”

“Sure. Add a plus one for me?”

Dany perked up at that

“So its serious with the girlfriend? I have to say; I’ve only seen a few photos of you in Europe with her, and one of you in Sydney. I didn’t know she was Australian. How have you stayed away from the paps for so long?”

“She lives near the beach, it’s a beautiful little place, nice area, I don’t think they give a shit really, plus its almost 2 hours from Sydney, no paps will travel that far.”

Dany nodded.

“Is she prepared for what’s about to happen?”

“She’s already explained things to me for when that does happen, which I need to talk to you about next time I see you. I will do my best to help her through everything, she might not even agree to the Oscars” Henry sat back and folded his arms.

“Why? Would she be uncomfortable? Does she not have a dress?”

Henry’s eyes snapped to her closet.

“I think she has a dress, ill get back to you.”

“Alright, speak soon”

Henry hung up the call, and stood up, rolling his shoulders and stretching out his body, he walked out of the room.

[tolcnsky]

SO

Re-watching X Men: Evolution as an adult who is pushing 30 was pretty eye-opening for me, and not just because I now know that high school is not nearly that exciting and that basically everyone in that show was out of dress code all the time. The two big things that I noticed this time around both have to do with Professor X and his Institute.

Let’s just say the man has a very “hands-off” method of dealing with children, which leads to problems, but also (and I’m just speculating here): I think Professor X doesn’t take on poor kids? Like, does the Institute have a tuition fee? Because I couldn’t help but notice that all of the kids in the Brotherhood, with the possible exception of Pietro and Wanda (does Magneto Money convert to American dollars?), are not well off.

And I’m not trying to find fault with our favorite Bald-Ass MotherFucker (the BAMF, as I have suddenly decided to call him), but I call it like I see it and unfortunately what I see of his attitude toward The Brotherhood is…let’s say it’s not what you would want in someone whose life’s pursuit is to help and educate children.  And in this show, The Brotherhood are, you know, children. I know any teenage readers may disagree with me on this point, but it’s true. The oldest among them is maybe eighteen, and the youngest is fourteen or fifteen, so they are no more mature or capable of making decisions than any of the show’s protagonists.

As an example, let’s look at Todd, whom Professor X tests in the very first episode in…honestly a really weird and deceptive way, by having him fight his other new student, Kurt, and giving neither of them a heads up about what the hell is going on. Then, when this (again) young kid flees in terror after being accidentally teleported into the room full of lasers and saws, aptly called the “Danger Room”, BAMF’s just like: ah well, he wasn’t ready.

WHO could have been ready for THAT? Also, is not being good at fighting really a good reason to not accept someone to your school where you’re going to teach them to fight anyway? You couldn’t take him aside like a normal person and go: hey, here’s what we’re about at the Institute... Nope, just send Storm at him with no context, that works. Oh, well, at least it was nice of the Professor to stop Wolverine from mercilessly shredding a fleeing teenager with his knife hands, right?

And then, just to pour salt in the wound, in the final episode of the first season, when Todd actually does prove his skills in combat by doing more than about half the core group of X Men did in the same episode, Professor X is like: Alex (who almost got us all killed just now) is always welcome at the Institute 😊 Oh, hey, The Brotherhood, do you kids need a ride back to your dilapidated house, where you live with no adult supervision*, or do you think you can walk home from here?

Now, I’m not saying that our dear BAMF doesn’t care about The Brotherhood, but I am saying that his hands-off approach to teaching valuable life lessons is, uh….well it just sucks.

His problem with these kids seems to be that they lack discipline, have attitude problems**, are just annoying etc. but, my man, is that not why you keep Wolverine around? To be an authority figure? I know you want to value these teens’ autonomy but I think their well-being should outweigh that. At a certain point you should really insist that they have somewhere safe to live that has things like *checks notes* uh, food and running water. Good thing you let them make their own decisions, Professor!

For real, can you imagine being any of Tabitha’s family who aren’t her jailbird dad and calling to check in and finding out that she got upset and ran away to live unsupervised with four teenage boys and this BAMF just let her do it?? I would lose my shit and no amount of calm assurances that it was her decision would make me not lose my shit. The point here being that there is a vast difference between encouraging kids to make informed decisions/allowing them to have agency, and allowing them to make decisions that have potential to ruin their life or, at the very least, make their life much more difficult than it would be if you were to say: “we can talk about your problems and work them out, you don’t have to live in a house where the water gets shut off.”

  Yeah, did I mention that the water at the boarding house gets shut off at one point? It happens one time but I think it’s worth mentioning because it joins my two points. The first point being what I just said about Professor X being lackadaisical when it comes to the well-being of minors (who he deems too irresponsible to join the X Men, but apparently not too irresponsible to look after themselves), and the second point being: hey, Professor. Do you accept poor kids?

You thought I wasn’t going to come back to this point, well you were wrong, here it is!

In the show, it’s kind of a running joke that Todd has bad personal hygiene (especially in the first episode) and from a storytelling perspective this is to establish that he’s a sleazy type of character. However, there’s never really an in-universe explanation given and, as an adult pushing 30, I am left to assume that he’s been living below the poverty line, as I feel most of the Brotherhood have been. As a kid watching the show, I was just like: lol smelly, but as an adult who spent a lot of time growing up hanging out with kids like Todd who would wear the same clothes every day and rarely bathed because they came from less than ideal living situations, I have a perspective that the show’s target audience doesn’t have. Which makes Professor X’s apparent disregard for the Brotherhood troubling to me.

Now, you might be thinking: it’s not that deep. The Brotherhood is dirty and their house is a wreck and they don’t pay the bills because they’re just bad people,right? To which I say: that’s actually a worse interpretation, but it’s also what we’ve been trained to believe by the media we consume.

And I want to make it known that I’m not blaming the writers of the show or saying they’re bad or the show is bad, I obviously don’t believe that. I think it’s complacency rather than spite that has allowed this trope to endure so long. Poverty is uncomfortable to talk about, especially in a reasonably light Saturday morning show, so tv and movies have a habit of framing poverty as a personal failure of the people it affects. It’s not that these kids live incredibly difficult lives because of any tragedy of failure of the system, it’s just that they make bad choices and it’s their fault.

And if that’s how you engage with this show and interpret its characters, that’s fine, they’re not real people. However, I would like to caution everyone reading this to be critical of this trope when it shows up and not to let it affect your perception of real life and real people who actually are suffering, not through any moral failure on their part, not because they’re the “bad guys”, but because they’ve been abandoned by an unfair system, or they’ve fallen on hard times and been unable to find support.

And I guess that’s really what kind of bothered me in my recent re-watch of the show: that Professor X is someone who is fully capable of giving much needed support to kids with hard lives, but doesn’t do it because he hopes that leaving them to make uninformed decisions before their brains are even finished developing will somehow build their character.

* Even when she’s around, Mystique does not count as “adult supervision”; if anything she’s the reason these kids need therapy

**And by the way, I question the decision to look at Lance, an aggressive teen with dangerous earthquake powers and be like: that problem will solve itself if we ignore it.