#i kno im using binary language but u tell me how to better word this. the binary is fake tho. all the little stranger danger things got to

[string-cheese-cake]

Nobody asked but white supremacy is the reason why white women are obsessed with true crime.

So when chattel slavery was becoming cemented in the United States and other European areas, the idea of biological race and racial hierarchy emerged to justify the generational enslavement of Africans and the genocide of indigenous people. Africans and other non-whites were labeled as less developed, more susceptible to their "primal urges" and committing sex crimes and therefore needed to be controlled by white men. Specifically to protect white women.

White supremacy is typically framed as necessary to 'protect' (read: control) white women, the mothers of the next generation of whites. They must be protected from "sexually voracious black men" (read: miscegenation and mixed race children). So white supremacy operates on the myth that white women are constantly under threat of sexual violence and must be protected by white men.

That myth becomes baked into the public consciousness, many unaware of the origin or even that the idea is there. It even becomes less racially based, but there is still a common belief that white women are inherently vulnerable to violent crime. Especially among white women. To be fair, it's difficult to not internalize an idea that you are not exactly aware of but is still seeped in every interaction and bit of advice. Don't wander off, don't talk to strangers, don't go out alone or late at night, cover your body, hold your keys between your fingers, take self defense, watch your drink, don't be under the influence. Your body is soft and valuable and delicate and you must protect it.

This idea of vulnerability is reinforced in the news media, which chooses to focus on stories which fit this particular narrative of white women's vulnerability. Missing white women syndrome. This subconscious belief has saturated society. White women develop an outsized fear of death by violent crime. So what do they do? They embrace it. They eat up stories of families like theirs and the deaths of women like them.

It's been suggested that experiencing that fear of violence in the controlled environment true crime provides can be cathartic, somewhat like watching a horror film. There is also a sense of justice and closure felt when the perpetrator of that crime is punished.

In conclusion; White women love true crime because it's a coping mechanism for their deeply embedded fear of violence which was established and is upheld by white supremacy.

#statistically white women are the least likely to be victims of violent crime. they can be and all victims need support but white women are #just not as vulnerable as society makes them out to be. and it becomes the standard of behavior and treatment for women of all races #women don't need control and protection they need empowerment and for men to treat them like goddamn human beings. #i kno im using binary language but u tell me how to better word this. the binary is fake tho. all the little stranger danger things got to #me. walk away from the street don't walk too close to unknown men I'm not afraid of my community!!! no one should be!!!! #we should not fear each other. i understand that violence and assault are real things that happen to people all the time but it's much more #likely to happen to men and women of color. they deserve love and support and real effective change. and white women shouldn't have to #be afraid and feel vulnerable. we need legitimate efforts to address and prevent random violence #not fearmongering and the offloading of responsibility onto potential victims. anyway thank you for coming to my ted talk #why am i talking #maybe I'll use this one day #i wrote this at 2am don't @me. i am right tho. i also like me some ethically filmed #true crime content. it needs to be tasteful though. and people need to be normal about it.

[ablednt]

Im not a terf and im sending this in 100% good faith because I like u and i like ur blog but the women post was not it. I think its valid to want more inclusive language but when cis women talk about their oppression they should be allowed to say women because they are talking about their own experiences, u know? Policing an oppressed group of people’s language use when talking about their oppression is peak entitlement.. this is like telling disabled people they cant say disabled while talking about their oppression because other people experience oppression rooted in ableism (any oppression that paints a group as less capable or less intelligent comes from ableism)

Also, while ur right that in some aspects cis women have privilege over trans men (cis privilege) it’s really dangerous to act like trans men are never misogynistic because they often are. Same with nb people. It’s not that black and white, u kno? Anyways i hope the terfs leave you alone soon /:

Yeah maybe I could have been extra clear but I didn't say they shouldn't use the word to talk about their own experiences.

Every discussion on misogyny uses the terms women and men only, centers the cis binary only. Any resources for victims of misogyny and for misogynistic abuse use the terms for women only.

And there's entire discourse groups of cis women dedicated to being transphobic to transmasc and nonbinary people because they can't realize that whilst transmascs can be misogynistic and I'm not at all denying that they are still largely victims of misogyny. Most of the transmascs I know are because a large part of the community isn't able to magically become a man in the eyes of cis men. It's just not nearly as simple as cis and binary people want to make it.

I'm frustrated because I am not allowed to be nonbinary in the eyes of cis women. Even the ones who are supportive of me call me a woman regularly, because I undoubtedly experience misogyny so they will always view me as a woman. Until recently I've always said I'm woman-aligned solely because I knew cis people would never acknowledge me as anything different than that and even when I've tried to gently remind people otherwise it was made clear by the community if I wanted resources for my abuse, if I wanted any space for discussion on just about anything, if I wanted any acknowledgement for being "not man" then I had to ID as a woman.

So I tried to word that post in a way that would get it through to cis women that if they arent talking about themselves or binary women, if they are talking about a general issue that they're trying to start a community discussion about, then they need to stop excluding nonbinary people and everyone else with the same experiences.

Because I'm very tired having that label forced on me every time someone talks about our shared experiences. It's not just women who experience misogyny, and I am not going to change that view just because cis women don't want to think about gender outside of their own experiences.

We have to bend over backwards for cis women because of the misogyny they face even when we face the exact same things. Like not only do I have cis men making my life a living hell the same as theirs I have to deal with their transphobia and forcing a binary on me. Cis men have never and will never acknowledge nonbinary people and gnc transmascs who aren't trying to appeal to their perceptions of men as men. So we don't get the same privilege as cis men and can and often do experience the same things as cis women, all of this is misogyny so why should we only get to call it that if we call ourselves women?

The point of that post was "please use inclusive language before I drown in the dysphoria that I'm getting from being forced by the whole of society to ID as a woman to have my problems acknowledged."

But I was trying to be patient and polite about it and when I said "limit the word woman as much as possible" it was because cis people have had a history of doing the bare minimum so if they tried that they'd still be very much underdoing it. But I shouldnt have said that I should have made it clear from the start and that's on me tbf. Because it was too easily misunderstood and too easily demonized (not by you obvs your criticisms are valid) as well.

I could have worded it better yes. But I'm allowed to talk about the transphobia I face as a nonbinary person to cis women specifically and I'm allowed to ask that they acknowledge their privilege and do something about it.

I will be deleting that post soon anyway because it's now just a swarming ground for transmisogynists and if I remake it ill reword it.

But I'm done trying to appeal to cis women because it's very clear to me if we aren't telling them we're basically cis women but please call us by they/them haha then they will decide we don't belong in their spaces and we don't deserve their solidarity. And that's absolutely crushing to me but until cis women start to acknowledge that gender is so unbelievably complicated and that intersectional feminism means acknowledging that everyone who isn't a cis man will experience a fluctuating level of misogyny based on how they're perceived then we will achieve nothing. And I'm tired of it.

Basically I'm disillusioned with cis feminism because they say it's intersectional but that comes with the unspoken expectation that people who aren't cis (including trans women because they get put through the worst of it because they have TME people as a whole to deal with and I cannot speak on what that's like as I'm TME) cater to them and support them wordlessly and put all of our needs secondary.

Cis women talking about their own experiences and being cis women isn't the problem and I never ment to apply that but the label "woman" is forced on so many trans and nonbinary people who don't ID with it automatically because it is the only label ever used to discuss misogyny because cis women are the ones leading every convo and that's exactly the problem.

Hopefully that gives some insight.

#thank you for your ask tho op #i appreciate that youre taking the time to discuss this #long post #ask to tag #dont rb #im just. so tired #and i didnt realize i experienced dysphoria but now i want to sob bc i cant escape being pereived as a woman #and the people who say theyre solidarity would flip their shit the minute i try to be anything other than their perception #and im tired of it im tired of this i want to cry

[five-hour-anxiety]

depresssion vlog 😥😴👎💭🏳️ | The Theory Of Real Activity | thursday vlogs

Taglist: @zerogettie  @spacevirgil@tree4life25@thebiggestnaturaldisaster @pailettehazel@jordandobbertin@thecityofthefireflies @the-fabulous-kimball@azuranightsong@virmillion @erlenmeyertrash @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @the-sanders-sides @punch-you-with-friendship@captaincantatrice@clovenpinetree @jughead-is-canonically-aroace@aplaceinthevoid@that-random-fandom-girl @zennyo

Word Count: 4431

Warnings: depression and talks of anxiety

Pairings: platonic prinxiety, platonic logicality, platonic analogical

Summary: Virgil is in the middle of a spiral and the back to back bad days are making it hard to function. He texts a few friends for help, and this is the result.

Designated Nerd:  Virgil, it has been some time since I’ve heard from you. Are you feeling well?

Me:  i mean, am i ever fine

Designated Nerd:  Well that is indeed worrying. Is there anything I can do for you, or would you rather I contact our more… emotional friends? Do you need me to come visit?

Me:  no, i dont want anyone over right now. this is gonna sound so stupid but,,, could u tell me what u do when ur upset

Designated Nerd:  If it helps, of course. I tend to listen to stimulating music and take hot showers. Please try to brush your teeth sometime soon as well, as hygiene is something that we all tend to be lax with in these states.

Me:  i should have expected advice like that

Designated Nerd:  Is it not useful? I apologize.

Me:  o no, its good. thx lo

Designated Nerd:  Anytime Virgil. Do not hesitate to contact me if you need anything else.

 ***

Sir-Sing-A-Lot:  hey panic at the everywhere, u still breathing

Me:  wow didnt kno u cared that much

Sir-Sing-A-Lot:  of course i care u ass how u doing

Me:  i mean im not dead. thats a fucking victory dude can i get a hell yeah

Sir-Sing-A-Lot:  hell fucking yeah bro im proud of u

Me:  hey while ur here,,,, how do u deal with ur bad days.

Sir-Sing-A-Lot:  poorly

Me:  damn dude

Sir-Sing-A-Lot:  yeah well thats life but i also light candles and fucking moisturize. unlike u u heathen

Me: thanks u fucking prick

Sir-Sing-A-Lot: hate u too u asshole c u this weekend~

***

Pat-Dad:  hey kiddo!! haven’t heard a peep outta you lately, just wanna make sure you’re still okay!!

Me:  im not okay, actually. but im glad u texted bc i have a q for u

Pat-Dad: anything for you kiddo, tell me how i can help!! :)

Me: wat do u do on bad days. like, how do u deal with the shitty emotions

Pat-Dad:  language kiddo.

Me: hellcrab.png

Pat-Dad: i dont have the profanity manatee on me so just pretend i sent that. anyway! i like to watch a bunch of funny shows and sit around in my favorite clothes! gotta feel good somehow!! and like, a lot of pillows are involved.

Me:  is this permission to turn my living room into a pillow fort

Pat-Dad: absolutely!!! but make sure you eat something today kiddo,,, making food is gonna be better than takeout btw. Feels good to have made something, trick the brian into enjoying the food more.

Me:  brian

Pat-Dad:  *brain, oh hush up

Me:  thanks 4 the help. <3 u

Pat-Dad: anytime kiddo!!!! :) <3 love you more!!!!!

***

   “Welcome back to the Theory of Real Activity -- today’s vlog: not what you all signed up for.” Virgil sighed, running a hand through his hair. “As I’m sure a lot of you have noticed, or at least the twitter crew has, I haven’t been as active on the channel lately. And I’m sorry about that, but I think I’m ready to talk about why now.

   “As many of you know, I have depression and anxiety. No way around it, there’s the truth. Often, these diseases prevent me from functioning like a healthy person would. That’s what’s been happening to me for the last few months. I’ve had a hard time getting up and dragging myself anywhere, much less making new content for all of you. Talking to friends via text is really hard too, so Twitter is something I can’t deal with either.

   “And I know a lot of you out there are the same way -- heck, when I do use Twitter and the likes, I see messages like that all the time. And I’m happy I’m able to help you all through those days when I can. But I can’t always be around to make stuff like that, so today I’m gonna talk you guys through helping yourselves when the days get bad and the voices get loud, okay?

   “But don’t let the start of this video fool you -- this isn’t a ‘oh we’re all gonna be okay if we just believe!’ kinda thing. Because there’s a lot of those. Don’t get me wrong, those are all wonderful messages and I really appreciate them, but I don’t think we need another one right now. What’s the point in trying to be motivated when the energy just isn’t there? I don’t know about any of you, but I almost feel worse when I watch those because I know whoever is on the other side of the screen wants me to work for happiness and I just… can’t. I can’t do it when I’m that low. So, no, this is not one of those videos.

“This is something completely different, I really hope it clicks with a few of you.”

   The camera switches out of selfie mode to reveal a table full of shopping bags. Virgil laughs off-screen and there’s the sound of papers shuffling.

   “Ladies, Gents, and everyone beyond the binary welcome to ‘How to Kinda Cope with Shit Brains’, starring yours truly. Let’s begin, shall we?”

***

   “Logan, you didn’t tell me you were uploading a video today! What’s this one about?” Patton squealed, clicking on the notification. Logan peered over his shoulder, trying to make out the display behind layers of smudges and a few cracks.

   “I- I did not upload a video today as Thursdays are typically reserved for anything Virgil wishes to post. That’s why there have not been any midweek videos recently.” Logan pulled out his own phone, giving up on Patton’s, and quickly unlocked the screen. “There is no one else with access to the account, so who- oh never mind. That is clearly something of Virgil’s creation.”

   “My goodness, he sure loves emojis, huh?” Patton giggled, reaching into his pockets. Logan groaned something like ‘you have no idea’ and pulled out a screen cloth for Patton. The younger man took it and quickly cleaned off his screen before pulling out his earbuds

“Do you wanna watch it together?” He asked, dangling them in front of Logan. Logan stared at him, grimacing.

   “Do you know how unsanitary sharing earphones is, Patton? I have a split connector in my bag, allow me to retrieve it and we shall view it together.”

***

   “So, I have compiled a list of things my friends do when they’re having bad days, as well as a few activities of my own, and we’re gonna test them. I’ll take note of how I feel before I start, do the activities, and then I’ll rate them by how I feel afterward. And if that sounds complicated, it is! Kinda. Logan says it’s the proper way to test things, by having a starting point and an end point, so go ask him? I don’t know, he’s always talking about control groups and I don’t know about any of you but I don’t want to make myself have bad days back to back just so I can test a bunch of things ‘fairly’.

“Anyway, first up: Roman’s list. He- he actually didn’t have much to say, just “moisturize bitch’ so I just pulled ideas from what he normally does on off-days. Sorry, Ro, but you brought this upon yourself.”

   Virgil reaches into the bag marked “Bed, Bath, and Beyond” and fishes out a bottle of something pink, as well as a purple container of lotion and a green candle.

   “I know for a fact Roman prefers grapefruit face wash, so that’s what we got here,” he shakes the pink bottle, “so we can gift this to him when we’re done here. And we have a bottle of lavender-scented lotion to go with it. I read somewhere that lavender helps with anxiety or something, but like,” he points at the camera, “it just smells good, and I am not ashamed to admit to that. Don’t read too much into this.

   “I also bought a scented candle, because that’s the only other thing Roman offered advice-wise. I fact-checked this one, and apparently good scents are supposed to help you think more clearly? Or something. I don’t know, I read the article at four in the morning, there’s not much I can really remember about it. Four am Virgil is really bad at retaining information.”

   The camera jostles as Virgil picks it up and walks into his bathroom. “Uh, just for like, the starting point? The best way to describe this type of anxiety is the buzzing and tensing of your muscles and the tightness in your chest. There’s nothing I want more than to dive under my bed sheets and sleep until tomorrow and try again later.

   “But I’m going to do this, so wish me luck.” He mutters, turning the tap on and grabbing a washcloth. The screen cuts away to black as an upbeat nineties song plays, and the text on the screen reads ‘Roman’s results’.

   “So,” Virgil starts, his face covered in white foam, “this stuff kinda burns? Roman, what the hell is wrong with you, you like this stuff? Ugh. Also, just so everyone knows, the smell of artificial grapefruit and lavender do not mix. Like separate, they are really good smells but just… don’t mix them together. It’s a really bad idea. We may have to do my list next so I can let the house air out for a while. As it is, I didn’t even try to light the candle, we do not need to add spearmint to this stink bomb.

   “Beyond that? The face wash is definitely waking me up. I feel a little more ‘oh hey, I’m a person’ that I did before so, yeah. This wasn’t a total bust. And my skin is soft! I understand the appeal of moisturizing now! Roman, how dare you keep this a secret from me?” Virgil laughs, rubbing his hands together. “Holy shit I feel like a million bucks. I am keeping the lotion, you can take this demon face scrub.” Virgil reaches off screen and picks up the pink bottle, scanning the back panel of text.

   “So overall, I’d say Roman’s tactics work. You just gotta like, make sure you get complimentary smells so you don’t stink yourself out of your house,” He says, still reading the bottle, “And you should definitely read the instructions on the bottles because this,” He holds up the pink bottle, “says to wash off after a few minutes, and it’s been ten. I’m gonna go get this off my face now.”

***

   “Babe, you seriously didn’t read the instructions?” Roman howled, throwing his head back into the couch. He could hear Virgil scoff from the kitchen.

   “Excuse me, but I thought it was like one of those face masks you leave on for half an hour! How was I supposed to know!” He asked, walking back into the room and plopping down beside Roman. “They look the same when you put them on, and you have a few long-lasting ones that smell like grapefruit! I had no way of knowing!”

   “You could’ve called, man. I would have helped you!” Roman lifted his arm, inviting Virgil to crawl under it. He took it and wrapped his arms around the taller man’s chest. “You bought face scrub, which is definitely not the same thing. Both are good though! Just, not that same.”

   “Yeah, well, I know that now,” Virgil muttered, burying his head in Roman’s hoodie.

   “We can do actual face masks after this if you want.” Roman offered, picking his phone back up. “Your pores could really benefit from one.”

   “You’re a dick. Turn that thing off.”

   “Love you too, bastard, but there’s no way in hell I’m turning this off.”

***

   The camera cuts again, and this time Virgil is in his bedroom. The window is open, and the sound of passing cars is almost inaudible but still present. His peach walls are bathed in a warm glow of the setting sun, a light breeze pushing his bangs up every so often.

   “Okay so, next up is Patton’s list. As per my own ‘rules’, I’m feeling mentally exhausted and ready to check the fuck out right now. But despite this, I’m actually… really excited for this one? It involves food, there’s no way this can go poorly.”

   The video cuts to footage of Virgil screaming as food on the stove erupts into flame. The 1812 Overture is playing the background. Whatever was in the pan is no longer food, as the burnt sustenance is bubbling in an ominous manner. The oven mitt is no longer on Virgil’s hand and is instead in a smoky heap on the kitchen counter.

   “No way this can go poorly” Virgil’s voice echoes as he runs off camera screaming. He returns with a fire extinguisher, the lens becoming jammed with foam just before the video cuts back to Virgil in his room eating Chinese takeout.

   “Okay so. It turns out it can go poorly. Patton said that making sure you eat, like, actual food and not six servings of chocolate cake with a glass of cherry coke on the side is supposed to help with the depression thing but like. It definitely didn’t help with the anxiety. Something about the food you worked to make tasting better?

   “So, I cheated and ordered take out. But hey! This stuff has got a bunch of veggies in it, so I think I won this round. Moving on,” Virgil puts the food down and leans down to grab something off the floor, “Patton also recommended watching some shows that I know I enjoy, so let’s do that next.” Virgil puts on the purple headphones he had grabbed and pulled his laptop onto his lap. He clicks off the light on his desk and plunges the room into darkness with only his computer light illuminating his face.

   “We’re watching the entirety of the Brooklyn Nine-Nine Halloween episodes, so be prepared for a highlight reel of that while I stuff my face with rice.” He twirls his finger around in a ‘roll film’ motion and kicks his feet up on the desk.

   The camera cuts to a black screen once more, the same upbeat music playing in the background. The text now read’s “Patton’s results”.

   The next few minutes is a series of clips strung together, many of them consisting of Virgil mouthing the lines along with the characters, and screeching with laughter. The last one shows him crying into his takeout, mumbling about how much he loves the relationship between Jake and Amy. He had taken his feet down from the desk at some point, now curled into his chair and bundled in his hoodie almost entirely.

   The video cuts away to a slightly more composed Virgil, who is now cuddling a pillow and scraping the bottom of the takeout box. His eye makeup had run down his face over the last few hours and he looked unnaturally pale in the weird lighting.

   “Yeah that uh,” He coughs awkwardly, “that worked. Ten out of three Patton, way to go. Got my brain to shut up for like, I don’t know, two hours?” He takes a deep breath and puts the takeout container on the desk. “It’s late, I think I’m gonna just do Logan’s and I’s lists tomorrow.”

***

   “Should I be concerned that he set the kitchen on fire and didn’t call anyone?” Patton whispered, pausing the video. “Why didn’t he call anyone? Did he get burned?”

   “I do not think you speeding to his house would have done any good, Patton, as he got the fire out by himself. That being said,” Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, “he is not allowed to cook for game night. Ever. What was he even trying to make?”

   “He can join me in the kitchen ban, then. The store-bought cookie club just gained a new member.”

   “God help us if you ever cook together. I’d have to take out a loan for a new apartment. I already cannot pay my student loans, I fear the possibility of adding to my life debt.” Logan shuddered, reaching over to unpause the video.

***

   “Okay, good morning internet. It’s buttcrack early outside, I don’t even think the sun is up yet? That’s good, actually, and I’ll get to why later.

“So, all that’s left is Logan and I’s lists, and to be honest? Logan may have already won the whole thing, looking at this on paper. He actually cares about like, not dying by germs or some shit.,I can guarantee his list will be practical. I gotta go set some stuff up for my list, so hang tight.” The screen cuts to a slightly more awake Virgil.

   He grins and gives a tiny wave before tapping the screen to switch the camera and show a hammock.

   “So, I’m next. I’m also gonna save Logan’s advice for the end of the video so you guys watch this whole thing. Give people an incentive for sticking around. Because I can see the stats on this, I know half of you like, exit the video halfway through. Stay for the whole thing, dammit, I need the ad money.” He laughs, gently putting the camera down. The screen shows a new sunrise, one full of soft purples and oranges. Above the sun and its halo are a few stars that have yet to go out for the day, barely visible behind the hazy clouds. Virgil picks the camera back up, the footage shaky.

   The camera stills to a shot of Virgil’s legs, the hammock swaying gently in the breeze. A few frogs can be heard singing in the background and Virgil hums a few notes. His voice is low as he speaks, still rough from sleep.

   “Again, to follow my own rules: I feel so awful I don’t even want to talk about it, guys. Sorry.” Virgil is quiet for a while longer, the occasional whispered lyric picked up by the microphone. Eventually, he speaks once more, a lighter tone to his voice.

   “Sure, this looks peaceful, but if you could all hear what kind of music I’m listening to right now, you’d be calling my therapist. Hey, Paul, I apologize my bro, but wow are you not gonna like me the next time I’m in.

   “So yeah, my list is just ‘get sun and get songs’. You Gucci fam, just stay out here until you either feel good or get cold. Probably gonna be the last one but, hey, you tried. Gold star. Bring a blanket if you wanna aim for the best possible outcome.”

   The camera cuts again, this time looking down from what is assumed to be a porch. The sky is dark once more, and the only source of light is a small candle.

   “Huh. What do you know, the candle works after all. Spearmint -- the poor man’s anti-anxiety. You know, I actually looked that up. Spearmint is supposed to be a good stress reliever and some kind of mood booster. The more you know, huh?”

***

   “Virgil, what the hell does that mean?” Roman chuckled, rubbing Virgil’s arm.

   “It means that when I’m panicking at work I just pop in a breath mint and BAM I am suddenly closer to reality than I was ten seconds ago.”

   “Do I wanna know how you discovered that?”

   “I had a hangry panic attack in high school and the only thing I had to eat in my bag were breath mints I was meaning to gift to you.”

   “Oh, that’s pretty- hey.”

   “You could still use some, man. Keep your nasty breath away from me.”

   Roman just hummed, looking at Virgil from the corner of his eyes. He smiled softly, his eyes sad and concerned. Pulling him closer, he unpaused the video and listened as he continued to hold his friend.

***

   “And last but certainly not least, is the list of the late, great Logan. He’s not dead. He’s just always late to dinner dates. Like a pretentious nerd, his excuses are ‘oh, I was studying’, ‘oh, I had an exam’, or ‘Patton set the kitchen on fire again, call 911’. What an ass.

   “Anyway. This list, which doesn’t have a cool name because Logan is against emojis and stuff, just has like, five items on it. In order that is: brush your teeth, put on some clean clothes, wash your hair, put on some socks, and the last one is a surprise. Because it really took me off guard and I need you all to be as surprised as I was.

   “And right now, I just feel apathetic. In case someone gets upset that I didn’t mention I felt going into this, I just feel apathetic.”

   The video cuts away to Virgil’s bathroom once more, and the leftover mess from the other day can be seen in the sink.

“Uh. Just, just ignore that mess. You know what it’s from, I don’t feel bad about that. Anyway, teeth brushing. Let me just find the toothpaste…

“You know, I can’t remember if I bought toothpaste at the store. Of all the crap I bought, don’t think toothpaste made it into the bin. So, let’s just see if I still have any of the travel samples from the dentist.”

Virgil riffles through his cabinets, pulling out items such as combs, hair dye, bleach, and a bottle of pills. He hums for a second, before crouching down to look under the sink.

   “I feel like, and I could be the only one who experiences this, I feel like anything that gets put under the sink will never see the light of day. So maybe I won’t be brushing my teeth today- wait. Wait! Oh gosh, thank you Jesus- there’s a- there is a bottle in the back there, but I can’t reach it. Outta my way, makeup kit, I got teeth to be cleaned!”

   Virgil pops back into view, holding up a half used mini bottle of toothpaste. It’s the kid’s kind, that tastes like berries and bubblegum. He uncaps it and starts to squeeze it out onto his toothbrush buts stops short.

   “Why the hell are there sparkles in this thing? That- isn’t that a, like, choking hazard or some shit? Okay, sorry Logan, teeth brushing is not happening in this video. I think you’d agree with me on this. When you get to this point in the video, feel free to add toothpaste to our shopping list.”

***

   “Jokes on you, Virgil, I added it yesterday when I spent the night and had to use that monstrosity.”

   “I use that stuff all the time, Logan, there’s nothing wrong with it! Look at me, I’m perfectly fine!”

   “That’s… that’s a, uh, great point Patton. Explains a lot.”

***

   “Okay, so next on the list was clean clothes. I’m doing that off camera, you nasties, so hang tight for a word from our sponsors.”

   The screen is black, with white text reading “crofters plz sponsor us logan is desperate.”

   Virgil reappears, in the same hoodie and shirt. He smirks, pointing at a pile of clothes on the floor.

   “Ha, I own two of these hoodies and three of these shirts. I am a cartoon character, y’all will never see me in a different outfit. You can dream, but my job is to crush those dreams.” He makes a fist as he says this, laughing through his teeth as he tries to appear tough.

   The camera cuts again, this time showing Virgil singing into a hairbrush while a towel is wrapped around his head. The scene doesn’t last long, as we are once again taken back to Virgil’s bedroom where he is set up with a laptop. This time he’s on his bed and the curtains are drawn.

   “It said to wash your hair, and you can’t wash hair without serenading the monsters living behind the shower curtains we all feared when we were little. Just because we aren’t afraid of them doesn’t mean they aren’t real!

   “Anyway, this is the last part of Logan’s list. It’s actually really sweet? Like, I am a grown ass man, and I am not ashamed to say I sobbed over this.” He continues, voice starting to tremor.

   Virgil spins his laptop around to show a YouTube video that’s about half an hour long. The title reads, ‘the best of Bert and Ernie from Sesame Street’. Virgil sniffs real fast, raking a fist over his eyes.

   “He uh, he knew these guys were my heroes growing up. And he knew it would cheer me up. Guess w-hat man,” Virgil sniffs again, “It- it worked like a fu-fucking charm. I uh, I’m actually feeling things after going through your list, so like. Nice work, I guess, I owe you dinner. Like, dinner at a restaurant, not a cooking dinner because I don’t want to poison you.

   “Ahem. Anyway. That’s the best thing in this whole video, you win Logan. And that about wraps up the Thursday vlog. Thanks for listening everyone, here’s the obligatory ‘we’re gonna be okay’ message, because as corny as that is -- it’s true. Find yourself a Bert to go with your Ernie and it’ll be okay. Maybe throw in an Elmo or a Zoey if you wanna round out the group. And my metaphor is getting too complicated, so! Virgil out! See you this weekend for the next Theory of Real Activity -- Logan and I are joined by Patton this time and we get into wild shit this week, let me tell you.”

***

   “Well, what are we still waiting around here for?” Patton asked, turning his phone off. He disconnected the earbuds, stuffing his haphazardly into his front pocket. Logan winced at the sight, and quickly but carefully wound his up into their case.

   “I’ll text Virgil to make sure he knows to expect us. Patton, if you could text Roman?” Logan asks, standing up and smoothing out his shirt. Patton nods, already poking away at his phone.

Me: Greetings, Virgil. Patton and I are on our way over to your house if that is okay?

Virgil Jackson: cant tell you no, you practically live here

Me: Yes, well, that is true. Is there anything I should bring with us?

Virgil Jackson: would it be lame to say a hug

Me: Not at all. If there is anything this group is good for, it’s hugging and crying. The occasional yelling, but that could go either way.

Virgil Jackson: whatever nerd, get over here already

#sanders sides fic #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #prinxiety #logicality #analogical #ali writes #its another vlog fic sue me #i wanted to you all can fight me later #the theory of real activity