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writing-with-olive · 4 years

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A few tropes to avoid: LGBT addition

Note that this is not a complete list, but rather some tropes that I tend to see a lot that are tiring if not downright offensive and hurtful. This turned out to be a very long post, so most of it ended up below the cut. Press J to skip.

Gay/Lesbian

[id: two flags. The one on the top is the lesbian pride flag. The one on the bottom is the gay pride flag /end id]

Anything hypersexualizing

It’s just... not good representation. No one likes to be hypersexualized. Ever.

The one gay/lesbian in the heterosexual friend group

This tends to come across as tokenism. Not real representation. Also, people tend to be friends with people they connect with. This is why a lot of LGBT people form groups. It’s actually far more likely in the real world for there to be a gay friend group with one straight person.

The homosexual dies first

Yay there’s a gay/lesbian person! Representation! oh... they died five minutes in? That sucks.

Look, if there’s a lot of death happening in your story, it’s fine if a gay person dies, but please stop making the first death a gay person. And if you decide to kill of a gay person, make sure it’s not the only one.

The gay that refuses to admit he’s gay but he’s super feminine so he has to be

Femininity does not equal being gay. I’m not entirely sure where this trope (and general misconception) came from, but it’s tiring to see it getting beaten into the ground

Femininity is fine as a trait, but it should not be the tell that a character’s gay. Finding other dudes attractive or being attracted to other dudes should be the main tell.

(Bi/pan, Trans, Nonbinary, Genderflux/genderfluid, Ace/aro all below the cut)

Bi/Pan

[id: two pride flags. The one on the top is the pansexual pride flag. The one on the bottom is the bisexual pride flag /end id]

Anything hypersexualizing

See above. I’m tired of it. It’s not good representation.

The bi/pan character is a cheater

Bi/pan people aren’t any more likely to cheat than anyone else. The fact that the general pool of people bi/pan people are attracted to is larger doesn’t really change that. Please don’t make your bi/pan character a cheater.

The “no this character is with a [guy/girl] now so that means they’re [straight/gay] not bi”

This is bi erasure. Bi/pan people are still bi/pan when they’re dating a dude. Bi/pan people are still bi/pan when they’re dating a girl. Bi/pan people are still bi/pan when they’re dating a nonbinary person. Period.

The “this character can’t be bi/pan - they’ve only slept with one gender/they’re a virgin”

Being bi/pan is about being attracted to people of two or more genders/being attracted to people regardless of gender. It doesn’t matter who they’ve slept with. If they’re bi/pan, they find more than one gender attractive.

Trans

[id: the trans pride flag /end id]

“Hi I’m John, but I used to be Jane.”

In no world is this realistic. Trans people are not going to introduce themselves to anyone by using their deadname (their name given at birth that no longer applies to them). There are lots of other ways to show a character is trans.

Trans dudes have to be hypermasculine, and trans girls have to be hyperfeminine

This is just untrue... being a more affeminate trans dude doesn’t make him any less of a man. Being a more masculine trans woman doesn’t mean she’s any less of a woman. Not conforming to the most stereotyped version of their gender does not mean they’re not a valid person

“He - she - did the thing” when referring to a trans woman and vice versa for a trans man in prose.

I specify in prose because if someone has just come out, and characters are tripping up over pronouns but trying to learn and correct themselves, then that’s usually fine (though make sure to research what’s acceptable around this and what isn’t).

The whole calling attention to someone’s pronouns by misgendering someone and then flamboyantly correcting yourself when they’re trans thing can actually be kind of transphobic. When you’re writing prose, you don’t have any excuse so don’t do this.

The trans guy finding a bunch of ace bandages (or something similar) and using them to bind his chest

Yes, this is realistic. Yes, a lot of people do this, but it is an extremely unsafe way to bind. If your character binds, do your research. If they bind unsafely then SHOW THE NEGATIVE RESULTS of binding unsafely (difficulty breathing, cracked ribs, spinal problems, etc) they can be pretty severe. A lot of people don’t know how to bind and take cues from what they see in the media. Don’t perpetuate false information.

Nonbinary

[id: the nonbinary pride flag. /end id]

The nonbinary character has to be flatchested and vaguely masculine in order to be nonbinary

Nonbinary people are still nonbinary when they’re feminine. Nonbinary people are still nonbinary when they’re masculine. Please reflect this in your stories, as people take cues for how society works based off of the cumulation of the media they recieve.

Misgendering during an argument

This is actually really damaging to nonbinary people. What happens is that people see that it’s okay to misgender someone if they’re mad, when in reality, pronouns are a right, not a privilage to be stripped away whenever you get mad. If you were really mad at your country’s leader, you wouldn’t misgender them when you rant. You can hate them with all of your being and you probably still wouldn’t misgender them. Why is it any different with nonbinary people?

All the nonbinary people were AFAB (assigned female at birth)

It’s not inherantly wrong to have AFAB nonbinary folk in your story, but it is nice to see AMAB (assigned male at birth) nonbinary characters as well. There’s a lot less representation for them, so the more representation the better.

Being nonbinary is a phase - you’re actually binary trans or cisgender

Some people identify as nonbinary and do later find out that they identify more with a binary gender, but there’s also a lot of people who are just... nonbinary. It’s hugely dissapointing when a character that’s meant to be representation turns out to actually not be. Especially if they were the only nonbinary character.

Genderfluid/Genderflux

[id: two flags. the one on the top the genderfluid pride flag, and the one on the bottom is the genderflux pride flag /end id]

The one character in the background who’s genderfluid/genderflux in chapter three and then never seen ever again

Just include a genderfluid/genderflux character that’s actually relevant. It’s not that hard, and it’s really not that confusing. Their gender changes sometimes. They might switch their pronouns accordingly.

The genderfluid character who’s short, vaguely masculine and has brightly died hair.

This one isn’t exactly offensive, per se, but it does feel like this is the only representation of a genderfluid character that I ever see, and that my friends ever see. Diversity is more than just having people who use different labels. It’s also about showing the different walks of life within those groups. There are a lot of genderfluid/flux people who don’t look like the stereotypical genderfluid/flux person, and they deserve representation just as much as everyone else.

The genderfluid character is the alien

This is a cop-out. It’s fine if you’ve got a race of genderfluid/flux aliens. Awesome, actually! Just add a genderfluid/genderflux human character too.

The genderfluid person who wakes up in the morning and “decides” if they’re going to be a boy or a girl today.

There are a couple things wrong with this. The first is that genderfluid people don’t just “decide” which gender they are. Their gender is more of it’s own entity. There’s not much of a choice with it. It just is.

From my own experience I can assure you that genderfluid people don’t just wake up in the morning with a random gender and then that’s their gender for the day. For me personally, my gender will change somewhere between once every three hours and once every three days, but it’s surprisingly rare that it’s overnight. It can even happen in the middle of conversations and stuff like that.

Genderfluid people don’t just switch between being a boy and being a girl. There’s a lot of space in between: nonbinary, maverique, agender, just to name a few.

Ace/Aro

[id: two pride flags. The one on top is an aromatic pride flag, and the bottom is an asexual pride flag. /end id]

The character’s horrible backstory turned them ace/aro

This is not to negate the fact that some people do identify as ace/aro after a traumatic event. That being said, most ace/aro people are just...ace or aro. There wasn’t any backstory. That’s just the way they are. Seeing that a lot more represented would be awesome.

The character’s got a mental illness because they’re ace/aro

Being ace/aro does not mean you have a mental illness. The idea that it does being spread through the media people consume is very harmful and it increases the stigma around being ace/aro, in a place where there really shouldn’t be. Yes you can have a mental illness and be ace/aro, but they’re not usually correlated.

The ace character can’t be ace because look they’ve got a partner!

Ace is short for asexual meaning you don’t feel any sexual attraction. That does not mean you can’t feel any romantic attraction. Therefore, your character can be hella ace and still have a partner that they’re romantically attracted to

If your character was aroace (a term that’s short for aromantic asexual), then they probably wouldn’t be interested in having a partner.

The character who’s aro/ace but then “finds the right person” right at the end

If they’re demisexual/demiromantic, then that’s different, but it does make it feel like the “flaw they were overcoming” was being ace/aro, and that’s both damaging to the community, and it’s also just dissapointing. There are a whole host of other flaws that your character could have that are much more worth the reader’s time.

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schrijverr · 3 years

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'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 4 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: brief mentions of death

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 4: Cornflowers Means ‘Delicacy’

Thomas felt as if he’d gotten Martha’s blessing to pursue Alex. He had wanted to before, but he’d felt guilty towards her, so instead he had riled the other up and argued with him.

But now…

With their tentative friendship evolving every day, the sudden email reminding him to keep living seemed like a sign. Maybe that was stupid, but Thomas was going to cling to it. Though he had to figure out how to work up the courage to flirt first.

He was absolutely hopeless at the whole thing. He’d started bribing Alex with food, making sure the other ate lunch everyday as a way in.

It was a slow process, but yesterday Alex had shown up at his office with a bag with two bagels in it when Thomas had gotten lost in his work and forgotten the time. He’d shrugged: “Seemed only fair to chip in myself for a change.”

Instead of using it as a way to thank him or something, Thomas had made a joke about Alex finally stopping with mooching off him, which had only earned him a small shove, before they had started an argument about the usefulness of the hole in the middle of a bagel.

Thomas was close to ripping his hair out in frustration.

Martha had flirted with him, he had never done this. He had no clue what he should be doing and James was absolutely no help. When he had asked him the man had simply said: “Too aroace, Tom.”

So now he was going to the one other person who could help him with this, but by God did he dread it.

“Hi, Thomas, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hello, Angie,” he replied, holding up a bottle of red wine, “Can I embarrass myself again and have you tell me I’m stupid before helping me?”

Angelica grinned: “With love. Here, come in.”

Thomas came in and dropped the wine on the kitchen counter of her apartment, before throwing himself on the couch with a groan. That earned him an eyeroll from Angelica, who poured them both a glass of wine, before pushing his legs of the couch and sitting down.

“Pizza and a romcom?” she asked, phone already in hand.

“Yeah, let’s be fully trashy,” Thomas agreed.

“You love trashy.”

“I truly do.”

Angelica ordered the pizza and waited for Thomas to leave behind the shelter of a pillow. He finally did and took a large gulp of his wine, before he said: “I don’t know how to flirt.”

“What?” out of all the things, Angelica had not seen that coming, but the realization hit her: “Oh my God are you trying to shoot your shot with Alex?”

“Maybe?” his voice was unsure and small and Angelica was living.

“Are you for real?” she exclaimed, “Tell me everything! Leave out no details. Holy fuck, this is great.”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said miserably.

“You can’t just ask me about advise to flirt with a guy, whom you’ve been crushing on for years while claiming you were never going to go after it and expect me to not get excited about it, Thomas. I mean come on, what changed?”

“I mean, me and Alex are kind of friends now and then-” he hesitated, unsure if he wanted to tell Angelica about the email from Martha, “then I got a reminder- it’s a long story.”

“Tell me,” Angelica demanded.

“You remember Alex brought Philip with him to work?” Thomas began.

“Yeah, that was four months ago, though.”

“Well, me and Alex talked and I told him about Martha, because Philip had told me about John, remember that?” he asked.

Angelica nodded.

“He called me,” Thomas went on, “It was John’s birthday and he was struggling and I had told him he could always talk to me and stuff, so he did. We bought Philip a Halloween costume and then we went to John’s grave so that he could show it to him.”

“Oh shit,” Angelica took a big gulp of her wine, “That’s a lot heavier than I was expecting, sorry. I didn’t know that part, he told us he handled John’s birthday well.”

“I mean, he did, sort off,” Thomas said, “Don’t let him know you know, I don’t know if he wanted me to tell you. But in the end it was a good day.”

“John loved Halloween.”

“Thought so, Alex mentioned Philip getting excited about his costume,” Thomas told her.

Angelica cringed in sympathy.

“Anyway, we spend John’s birthday together and after that it was different in the office and stuff and I brought him lunch-”

“You brought him lunch!”

“He had forgotten, what was I supposed to do? Was that weird?” Thomas sounded scared, Alex hadn’t seem to mind and he did it after. WouldAlex be mad at him?

“No, no, not bad,” Angelica quickly assured him, “Just sweet.”

“Then why did you react like that?” Thomas hissed, stress outing itself.

“Because I haven’t seen Alex eat in break room since forever,” Angelica replied, “He deflects every time I asked, we were already planning an intervention or something.”

“Oh,” Thomas didn’t know what to say to that, “Well, you don’t, he’s been eating fine.”

“Thank God for that, Eliza can be scary.”

Thomas huffed out a laugh at that, before proceeding: “So, I brought him lunch and he thanked me and said that I could call him if needed too.”

“How precious.”

“So I did,” Thomas decided that after sharing about John’s birthday to Angelica it would only be fair to tell her about himself as well, “Because Martha had send me an email – it was a site thing, send emails to the future and stuff – and, well, that was an unexpected punch to the gut.”

“Are you okay, Tommy?” Angelica’s brows were concerned, “I didn’t hear you about it.”

“It’s fine, Angie,” he assured her, “Me and Alex watched movies all day and just reminisced about her, it was nice. But in the email, Martha told me to move on from her.”

“She knows you too well,” Angelica smiled softly, she had known Martha herself and had seen first hand how devastated Thomas was after her death.

“Yeah, so that’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past few months, but I. Can’t. Flirt,” he fell back dramatically once more.

“God, you’re hopeless,” Angelica said, “Luckily I am here to save you, I am the best wingwoman known to man.”

“I hope you’re right, because being friends with Alex is killing me. Do you know how cute that motherfucker can be?” Thomas told her, “He has these big ass smiles and these little giggles and they are designed to kill me.”

Angelica smiled fondly, slight hurt in her eyes as a different person with the same complaints flashed in front of her eyes.

The bell rang and Angelica quickly got their pizzas before she sat down to form a game plan, which she privately named ‘Plan Jamilton’.

“Okay, so first up, what is a regular day with Alex like? So an office day, but then I don’t have to hear about your boring meetings unless Alex is involved,” she asked.

“I get in, he’s usually in the break room getting coffee, we talk – well, argue, but not mean – about whatever, we work, we eat lunch, then work some more, then I tell him to home if it’s not Tuesday or Friday, because he goes home earlier on those day, because he has to get Philip from school,” Thomas listed, then shrugged: “Meetings are still the same.”

“Huh, is that why I couldn't find him last Tuesday?”

“Yeah, normally Philip gets picked up by one of his Aunts or Un- you know that, sorry,” Thomas cut himself off.

“I know the others pick Philip up from time to time and that Alex hires a babysitter, I didn’t know there was a pattern,” Angelica confessed, “I’m more the fun Aunt that shows up from time to time with presents, Eliza is more the overly involved Aunt, but that’s fair since Philip was in her for nine months.”

“Touche.”

“Anyways, you and Alex seem to talk a few times during the day. Morning and lunch and before he goes home, all good opportunities,” she suggested.

“I’m aware, but then I’d have to know what to say, don’t I, Angie,” Thomas pointed out.

“Alex is a natural flirter, give him a push and he’ll do most of the work.”

“But then what do I do? How do I react to him flirting? That’ll be bad for my soul,” Thomas whined.

“Think of it like banter, you two do it all the time,” Angelica rolled her eyes, “Just maybe make it a bit more suggestive here and there, add innuendos. I think you can manage that.”

“And what if Alex thinks it’s weird or if he’s just doing it because he’s flirty?” Thomas worried, “I mean, you said it yourself that he’s naturally flirty, what if he doesn’t think anything of it and then I am the weird one and he hates me.”

“He’s not going to hate you, you idiot,” Angelica rolled her eyes, “He likes you.”

“What? How do you know that?” Thomas needed answers and he needed them now.

“Technically, I don’t, but-”

“Then you have no ground to stand on and I shouldn’t risk it.”

“Let me talk, Thomas Jefferson,” the full name shut him up, “As I wanted to say: Technically, I don’t know for sure if he likes you, but he has stopped complaining about you and last week he said you might have shit ideas on company policy, but you had great taste in classical writers. He loves classical writers. That’s huge for him.”

“That’s hardly anything, Angie.”

“And Laf asked me what was up between you two,” Angelica played her ace.

“Laf thinks there is something up between us two?” Thomas took the bait as predicted, hopeful puppy eyes that shouldn’t be adorable on a 6’3, grown man.

“Yeah, he said – and I quote – Hm, did you notice anything off between mon petit lionand our dear Thomas, those two seems to be getting closer,non?”

“Your French accent is horrible.”

“Not the focus, Tommy. The focus is that he wiggled his brows about it.”

“He wiggled his brows?”

“Yes, he only does that if he is super certain of his observations or if he knows something. I’m still figuring out which one it is,” Angelica informed him.

“So maybe Alex said something to him?” Thomas suggested.

“Maybe, but you’d have to ask him.”

“I’m not going to ask him.”

“Why not?”

“Because he is a nosy Frenchman, who doesn’t know when to stop meddling and he’ll embarrass me in front of Alex, I’m sure of it,” Thomas whined.

“He’s not that bad, Thomas. Get over yourself,” Angelica told him, taking a bite out of her pizza slice.

“No, one time I told him I was considering celebrating my birthday and he threw me a huge surprise party – granted, it was sweet of him, but also no, not for me – with like a live band and stuff. It was way too much.”

“Okay, so maybe not ask Laf directly,” Angelica conceded.

Thomas eyes suddenly lit up with inspiration and he exclaimed: “You could ask him!”

“No!” Angelica protested immediately.

“Why not?” Thomas was pleading now, “For me.”

“Because then he’ll know for suresomething is up and talk to either you or Alex and then your whole plan will still be ruined,” Angelica explained, “You just need to trust me and flirt with Alex. I swear it will be fine.”

“But what if it isn’t?”

“Then I’ll get you ice cream and chew out Alex,” she promised.

“I hate it when you make a point,” Thomas complained.

“And I hate eating without playing a movie, we both make sacrifices,” Angelica rolled her eyes, completely unimpressed as she took another bite of her pizza, almost as if to make a point.

In the end they did watch a movie. It was a shitty romcom, as promised, and every time someone flirted Angelica rated it and advised for or against the method. Thomas wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle or hug her.

He still didn’t say anything for almost a week and a half, until he found himself in the printer room with Alex.

“Honestly, Thomas, you can’t possibly think that saying a cloud and rain are the same makes any sense,” Alex rolled his eyes, pushing some buttons on the printer.

“No, just think about it, okay? Clouds are water, rain is also water, correct?” Alex grudgingly agreed, “A cloud is basically water floating around until it gets cold and falls, so therefore rain is basically just a cloud falling.”

Alex paused, processing his words, before he said: “Oh my God, shut up.”

“Make me,” Thomas had been so caught up about winning their argument that he hadn’t even thought before letting the slightly suggestive words slip out.

Now they both paused. Thomas looked shocked at his own words and Alex studied him curiously, his eyes scanning him up and down, before he smirked and asked: “Is that a threat or a promise, Tommy? Because you really shouldn’t say things you can’t deliver on.”

Then he grabbed his papers and left Thomas gaping like a fish on dry land as he tried to process the entire interaction.

Alex was internally panicking as he hightailed out of the room, hoping to leave Thomas before the man had gathered his wits again. Sure, Thomas might have started it, but Alex had taken it a level further.

He’d wanted to flirt with Thomas, but they only just started to be friendly. Well, maybe not just, but it wasn’t as if they had stopped being rivals that long ago.

It was just…

It was just that Philip had really liked Thomas, he was still sometimes asking about how Mr. Thomas was doing. And the man had done so much for him on John’s birthday. And he had looked so vulnerable with the email and Alex had never seen that side of him and his stupid crush was developing at an alarming rate. And he didn’t want to acknowledge it or make it real, but…

Butnow he might have made it weird.

Fuck, what was he going to do? Oh, wait, Eliza was picking up Philip today – normally he would do it, but school ended early that day so Eliza had offered – and it was after lunch, so he wouldn’t see Thomas today and he could talk to her and have a plan tomorrow.

With that in mind, he tried to forget about the whole incident and work till the end of the day, losing himself in his work and hoping he wouldn’t run into Thomas.

He left at five on the dot and at half past five he was knocking on Eliza’s door. She opened, but before she could say anything he blurted out: “I flirted with Thomas today. I think he started it, but now I’m thinking it might have been me.”

She blinked, then blinked again, before she pulled him into the house: “Tell me everything. Is this the great Mr. Thomas Philip was telling me about? The one you’ve been crushing on and didn’t tell me and I had to hear about from Herc?”

“Maybe?” he squeaked.

He and Philip ended up eating dinner with her and Maria and afterwards Maria watched a movie with Philip, sending them a knowing look that made Alex blush.

Alex had known Eliza since Freshman year in college. He and her had hit it off right away, even dated for a while, but then John had taken a break from the army to study and- well, they just found they were only dating to prove something to themselves.

The point was Alex told Eliza everything. She’d been the first to know he fancied John, had helped him pick an outfit for their first date, had been there for ring shopping and wedding planning. She had carried Philip for nine months for Pete’s sake.

Yet he had hesitated with telling her about Thomas.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but if he told her it would be real, because telling her made it real and he was scared of this being real.

But now it was going to be real.

It was going to be real because Thomas had said something slightly suggestive and Alex had taken that as a sign to blatantly flirt with the man. It was going to be real, because he was going to tell Eliza.

Fuck.

He started up slowly, hesitating about certain parts, what to say and what not, but in the end the words started to flow out of him like they always did.

Alex told Eliza about how he’d thought Thomas was attractive, but had pushed that down with the personality, but then he’d been nice to Philip and that had stirred something inside him again. He told her about John’s birthday, the endless jokey lunch discussions, Martha’s email, how he the feelings had been building up until he had blurted out his comment that day.

All throughout Eliza just listened and nodded along until his word vomit session was over and he just sat there and breathed.

“It sounds to me,” she began carefully, “like you really like Thomas and that he is a good influence on you. And if I understood correctly, he has proven himself to be willingly involved with Pip. He sounds like a catch, ‘Lexi.”

“He is,” Alex sighed with a smile, then slightly sadder he added, “I just don’t know what to do. I might have scared him off today.”

“Come on, don’t be so deprecating. I knew you in college, you can woo him,” Eliza encouraged him teasingly.

“Wow, thanks, ‘Liza,” he huffed.

“I’m serious, ‘Lexi. You can flirt and you know it, you’re a charmer if you want to be, when you’re not, you know, forcing people to have opinions they need to defend,” she said, “Though, Thomas already knows that, since-” she gestured vaguely, “since you two do that.”

Alex laughed at that, before he turned more serious: “What if I fuck this up, Betsy? What if I do something wrong? What if Pip gets hurt by this? I don’t know how I’d live with myself if this hurts him.”

He only called her Betsy if he was really worried about something.

“Hey, Alexander, look at me,” if he was calling her Betsy, she was pulling out full names, “You’re not going to fuck this up, you just need to be patient for a moment.”

“Have you been hanging around Burr?” Alex groaned.

Eliza rolled her eyes at him: “No and just because you don’t agree with someone doesn’t mean they can’t have a point.”

“He should have points, ‘Liza, that’s the entire point,” Alex told her.

“I am not having this discussion with you right now, we were focusing on something else,” she knew deflection when she saw it, “We were talking about Thomas and you wooing him.”

“What? Do you have a battle plan or something?”

“Of course I have.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best?”

“You could stand to mention it more,” she smiled, “Now, you are flirty, which is great everyone will say that you are. He knows Laf, he’ll ask if he’s curious and Laf is how we keep tabs on him. Trust me, he will come talking if Thomas ever asks him anything like that.”

Alex laughed: “Remember when Herc said he had a date and Laf showed up at the restaurant in a disguise to check on her, because she had ‘weird vibes’?”

Eliza snorted and nodded at the memory, before moving on: “So we have a route of communication, sort of, to tell how the flirting is received. If it’s good, you can ask him out. If not, well, I have ice cream and a shoulder to cry on.”

“Betsy, you are the best of women, honestly. If you weren’t so gay, I’d marry you,” he told her with a grin.

“Like I said, you’re a charmer,” she ruffled his hair, before ushering him and Philip – who had been elated about the later bedtime – out the door while reminding him to tell her everything from now on.

He left with that promise to her and a lighter heart.

The next day started like any other, with Thomas finding Alex in the break room like nothing had happened. For a moment Thomas worried the other was going to pretend that nothing had been said, crumbling his resolve to start flirting today.

“Hi, Alex,” he decided on his normal greeting, just to test the room.

Alex turned and smiled – it was that stupid bright smile that did things to Thomas – then said: “Hi, you’re looking good today? New pants?”

They weren’t new and Thomas knew that Alex knew that, because it was an outfit he’d worn many times. The comment eased some of his anxiety about this as he replied: “No, but glad you’re finally appreciating my impeccable sense of style.”

The eyeroll Alex gave him couldn't have been stopped even if he tried, so he just winked: “Nah, you still dress overly colored. Maybe I can help you find a better sense of style. Those pants would have to come off for that, though.”

Then he sashayed away like he hadn’t left Thomas blushing, pouring coffee over his hand because he wasn’t paying attention to the coffeepot.

And for the next few daysit continued like this. Their arguments that had turned into banter had now turned into flirting.

They were dancing around each other like teenagers afraid to be rejected for prom and the whole office had probably caught onto it. Alex was sure of that with all the looks knowing they were getting.

This was confirmed when Washington made him stay after a meeting in which some flirty comments had slipped into their debate, he raised a brow at Alex and asked: “What happened to the ‘nothing like that, sir’?”

Alex blushed heavily and squeaked: “Back then it wasn’t.”

“So it is like that now?”

“Sir,” it was a whine and Alex would deny it later.

“Alex,” Washington just replied, completely nonplussed.

“Ugh,” Alex groaned, this softly said: “Maybe? Not yet. I don’t know.”

“Well, Thomas is a good man, be kind to him,” Washington told him, a slight warning in his tone, before he got protective, “And be careful with yourself too, son.”

“I’m not-” Alex cut off the standard reply, because it was really not true at this point, so instead he nodded: “I will, thank you, sir.”

Washington send him away with some paperwork and an order not to stay late again and Alex promised he wouldn’t, because he was picking up Philip today and he had promised the kid they could go to a park after school.

Philip was so excited to see him and Alex pushed him on a swing and caught him when he wanted to jump off.

During dinner Philip asked: “How is Mr. Thomas? He was nice, why doesn’t he come around again? He came that one time and you are friends now, right? Why doesn’t he come around like Uncle Herc and Uncle Laf do?”

“It’s a bit complicated, Pip,” Alex said after a moment, “Me and Thomas are friends, but it just never flowed like that.”

“You always says I can change my own path, why can’t you?” God, sometimes Pip was too smart for his own good.

“I’ll see if he wants to come to movie night with your Uncles and Aunties. Does that sound fun?” he might regret this, but the look on Pip’s face was worth it.

He didn’t approach Thomas directly, with all the flirting he didn’t want it to come across as asking for a date. If he was going to ask Thomas, he was going to ask it better than that. Instead he approached Angelica: “Hey, Angie, can I ask you something?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“For movie night, I, uhm, well, I wanted to ask Thomas to come, but that’s weird, because it would be me asking, so I wanted to ask if you could invite him to come along?” Alex hoped she would say yes.

Angelica smiled pleasantly and Alex dreaded her answer: “Why is it weird when you do it?”

“Come on, Angie,” Alex whined, “I’m sure you and Eliza gossip about me. You know what this is about. If I ask him out, I’ll do it differently than a group movie night, because Pip wanted to see him again.”

“You’re gonna ask him out?” Angelica asked excitedly.

Alex cursed his stupid mouth and said: “Maybe. It’s still new and stuff, but eventually, yeah, it’s the plan at least. Don’t tell him though, please.”

Angelica cooed: “You are too cute. I won’t tell, don’t worry.”

“Will you ask him?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” maybe there was a bit too much force in the words, but Alex didn’t care.

That Friday Alex was more anxious about movie night than he had any right to be. It was usually hosted at his house so that he could put Pip to bed on time, before they watched non-kid movies, though everyone had a soft spot for the animated movies.

He had checked everything over multiple times and the only thing distracting him was Philip’s latest car parkour.

Herc arrived first, sweeping his nephew into his arms and being a calming enough presence that Alex had relaxed by the time Eliza and Maria along with Peggy showed up.

Then Angelica arrived with Thomas in tow. He greeted Alex awkwardly: “Sorry, is this okay? Angie said it was, but I don’t want to intrude.”

Luckily Alex didn’t have to answer, because Philip came running: “Mr. Thomas! Mr. Thomas, I have started keeping my drawings in this book and it’s already pretty full, do you want to see? We’re going to watch Mulantonight? Have you seen Mulanbefore? Did you like it?”

Thomas smiled: “Hey, kiddo, how about one question at a time? I’d love to see your drawings.”

Philip cheered and dragged Thomas away, who send Alex an apologetic look, though Alex didn’t mind having the pressure of him. He was distracted by Angelica: “That went well.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you dork, it’s going fine,” Angelica assured him, “Now, I want something to drink. Do you have popcorn?”

Lafayette arrived last. By the time he came knocking they had all the snacks set out and the movie was waiting. He bustled in: “Bonjour, Bonjour, sorry I’m late. There was traffic and I was sleeping.”

“Uncle Laf!” Philip was off the couch and at Laf’s side in seconds, these nights would always make him excited enough that he dropped off early.

“Ah, mon petit neveu, how are you?” Laf hugged him tightly.

Philip babbled excitedly: “I’m going to become an artist. I showed Mr. Thomas my drawing book and he says they’re really good and my teacher says so as well.”

“Mr. Thomas?” Laf asked, he hadn’t been around often lately with his job keeping him busy and traveling. He had seen something was up, but he hadn’t gotten the note that the two were doing something about it and he hadn’t heard Philip about it yet either.

From the couch Thomas spoke up: “Hi, Lafayette. How was your week? Heard they needed you back in Paris?”

“Thomas! What une surprise!” Laf said and they had a conversation, which was more an interrogation how he’d ended up here. Alex saved Thomas by telling the nosy Frenchman that they were worked together on his financial plan and Thomas was not so bad ‘yes, Laf just like you said, I know.’

Movie night went great, they watched Mulan first and Philip kept asking Thomas questions throughout the entire movie, which Thomas answered dutifully. This amused the other adults greatly.

By the end the excitement had died down and Philip was nodding off. Alex left Eliza in charge of refilling the snacks, while he got Pip ready for bed.

When he got back the only spot left was right next to Thomas, he suppressed an eyeroll at his friends antics and sat down, knowing Laf would be all over this when the night was over. But for now he didn’t care.

He and Thomas had watched movies together before, albeit under different circumstances, but it was nothing new. Though he had forgotten how warm Thomas was and – now that he thought about it – he was kind of tired.

Slowly he slid sidewards throughout their viewing of The Patriotuntil he was leaning on Thomas’s shoulder, fighting to keep his eyes open. In the distance he felt something shift and the he slid further, a warm arm resting over him before he drifted off completely.

When he awoke it was dark and he was tucked in on the couch, cold and alone.

He sat up in confusion until his eye fell on a note in a familiar cursive handwriting that was too pretty to belong to someone in this century. It read: You fell asleep. We thought it better to let you be. Thanks for inviting me, I had fun. Sleep tight. x, T.

And honestly that little ‘x’ shouldn’t have made Alex blush. He looked up to a picture of John and whispered: “My dear Laurens, I think I’ve fallen in too deep already.”

The picture didn’t reply, instead John’s smiling face stayed static, but Alex still found it comforting to have John looking at him with something akin to encouragement. John would want him to be happy, he had always tried to do what he thought to be best for Alex, for Pip.

“You’re right, Jacky, I shouldn’t be dancing around this,” he said, “It’s just hard. And I’m scared,” he huffed a laugh, “Isn’t that ironic? After everything I’ve been through the great Alexander Hamilton is scared of asking someone on a date.”

He paused for a moment then said: “Don’t look at me like that, you asked me on our first date, you rash motherfucker. Don’t think I’ve forgotten you springing it on me when I was almost collapsing after finishing a paper. I got you with marriage, though, so even-Steven.”

It was comforting to talk to a picture of John, it was different when talking to his grave, less heavy when not surrounded by stones. Was it probably slightly strange? Yes. But Alex had been strange his entire life.

“Maybe I should be a bit rash for once, pick up your slack,” he told John, ignoring that his friends always said that they were both too rash and it was bad for their health that the two of them got along so well, “I think I’m doing it.”

That weekend he made a plan, had to double check something with Philip and worry-rant at Eliza, she was a great listener, he truly loved her.

Then Monday morning it was time, God he was nervous as he waited at Thomas’s office, where the man usually dropped his stuff before starting his day.

“Hey, uhm, this might be weird, but Pip told me about the vase in your office and if I remember correctly it was empty Friday, so I got you these,” Alex held up a bouquet of purple flowers, “It’s- they’re cornflowers, I hope I remembered correctly.”

Thomas took them, a bit stunned, his eyes slightly sparkling.

“I looked up their meaning. They mean ‘delicacy’, but also ‘be gentle with me’ and I thought that very fitting, because you’re – this is sound weird – but you’re very cute in an ‘I want to protect you’-way,” Alex was stumbling over his words, “But it’s also a request – the ‘be gentle with me’-part, I mean –because-” he swallowed and hesitated, “Well, you see, I- I was wondering if you- you would like to go on a- uhm, on a date. With me. This Friday. If you want. You don’t have to of course, maybe I’ve read this whole thing wrong and that’s fine, but if you do want to then I’ll be happy- more than happy, actually-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I’d love to go on a date with you this Friday,” Thomas told him, blush coloring his cheeks and a bashful smile tugging on his lips.

Alex grinned the grin that did things to Thomas as he replied: “That’s- Yeah, great, I- uhm, I’ll text you details?”

“Yeah, okay. Then I’ll go put these in water. Thank you, Alex, they’re beautiful,” Thomas walked away, flowers in hand, planning to yell at Angelica through the phone.

Bit of a more lighthearted chapter after all the grief and angst lmao

Also, always lovely when I get to the part of ‘and now they flirt’ only to realize that I do not know how to flirt and I have no clue how to write it. Ooof. So shout out to time skips xp

Side note: this → “well, they just found they were only dating to prove something to themselves.” is not invalidating the fact that Alex is bi, just that Eliza wanted to prove to herself that she wasn’t a raging homosexual while Alex wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t in love with John.

Also I thought it was very funny that they thought to use Laf to keep track of the other, only for both to tell him absolutely nothing

#RR writing #tw: grief mention #Alexander Hamilton #Hamilton #Hamilton AU #Jamilton #thomas jefferson #angelica schuyler #eliza schuyler #Philip Hamilton #Lafayette #marquis de lafayette #george washington #'Till Death Do Us Part #'Till Death Do Us Part Part 4 #'Till Death Do Us Part AU

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autumnslance · 3 years

Text

5 Favorite Recent Writing Bits

Tagged by @kunstpause! Picking out a few passages I like from my most recent works, in no particular order. Under the cut, with links to the full work as hosted here on Tumblr (most of the posts also have links to Ao3 versions).

Tagging @phaedra-mero @anomaliewrites @eremiss @stars-bleed-hearts-shine @ahlis-xiv @raelly-writing @aethernoise @dragons-bones @punchelf @gunbun and anyone else feeling the need to go over some writing and think “I still kinda like this actually” (it happens more often than you may think).

1. Of Porxies and Pardons - Shadowbringers, 5.1-5.2-ish. After Eden 8 (Refulgence), Aeryn and Thancred had an argument. This one starts silly with Ryne & Gaia bullying Dadcred into buying a gift to give Aeryn, as an excuse to get reconciliation rolling.

He nodded. Then struggled not to fidget as silence briefly took over, the orchestrion quietly playing a semi-familiar melancholy tune. They tried to speak at the same time, words crashing against each other until they both stopped and blinked, the usual blush creeping over Aeryn’s face, while his own felt rather warmer than a moment ago. He gestured; she could go first.

She hesitated anyway, then quickly said, “You left that book you were reading, before...Um, before. It’s there.” Aeryn pointed to the small couch by the window, the aforementioned tome on the stand next to it. It was a collection of Voeburtite poems borrowed from the Cabinet of Curiosity he had meant to take along to the Empty to read while his more magically-inclined companions went about their tasks.

“Ah, of course; I was looking for that,” he answered, striding to the stand. On lifting the book, the marker he had left between its pages slipped out. Thancred managed to catch it, but his place was lost. He sat on the couch. “A moment while I find where I left off,” he said.

“Of course,” she replied, clearing her throat. He waited a moment, but she turned instead to her table and the organizing she had been doing when he arrived. She was definitely preparing to leave again for a time.

He took a breath but instead of speaking up turned to the book in his hands, slowly paging through to find where the verses became unfamiliar again, listening to Aeryn in the background. It didn’t take long before skimming became rereading, the words of long-dead poets filling his eyes and mind.

2. Only a Little Death for Now - Shadowbringers. Zenos fic that came outta nowhere, from a prompt I happened to see in Book Club and would not let me go. I see him as aroace, but his fascination with the one person who can match or surpass him crosses some wires. It’s short and violent, as one would expect. Also lemony for those into the murder prince. Used “she” for the sake of it but substitute in your own preferred pronouns; it’s all the same to Zenos.

His breath hitched and he nearly dropped his head onto the rail, thinking of her hair whipping as she spun, faster than his blades could strike. How he would push himself against her, testing her ferocity, the bloodlust to match his own. She would score him, again and again, each cut a command to yield, each bruise an edict to submit. The longer he refused, the fiercer her fire burned, until he was scorched by her Light, ripping away the shadows of his reclaimed birthright.

Another growling groan, the sting of sweat in his eyes as the heat of his bloodlust melted the ice and dusting of snow. It was nothing, nothing compared to the flame of their battles, drenching them both as they pushed beyond mortal limits, exerting wills to bend the Star itself in trying to make the other concede, to fall, to complete that final strike, the last stroke.

He threw his head back with a strangled cry, remembering the kiss of his own steel at his throat and oh what a fool he had been! How much sweeter, how much more worthy and final, would it be to have her wield the blade to end him, to give him that sweet release…

3. Girl Talk - Stormblood-era dialogue heavy piece of Lyse and Aeryn being pals and talking about relationships. Mostly Lyse needling Aeryn about certain rogues, and getting the dish on just what happened between Aeryn and Haurchefant...

“You are far from stupid.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t make stupid mistakes.”

“Well, sure. Still, you couldn’t have messed up that badly.” At Aeryn’s cringe, Lyse raised a brow. “Come on.”

“I did sleep with him—once.”

“Really?” Lyse rolled onto her stomach, chin propped in both her hands.

Aeryn rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t...It was a stressful day.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. Your idea of a stressful day is different from other peoples’.”

“Fair.” She grinned at Lyse. “I had to babysit Emmanellain de Fortemps.”

“All right, that does explain a lot.”

“He got himself kidnapped by the Vundu…”

“Of course he did.”

“I went ahead, while Honoroit ran back to get aid--so, Haurchefant and a couple Haillenarte knights--and that was the day we learned about Bismark, as Cid rescued us with his ever-exceptional piloting before we were eaten.”

“That is a stressful day, even by your standards.”

4. 15th Sun of the 1st Astral Moon - Shadowbringers, 5.3-5.4 spoilers. A very recent piece having to do with Aeryn’s nameday, but more importantly Thancred marking it each year he spent upon the First, and how. Letters, pining, confessions; all here.

Aeryn read through, noting he wrote it more like a conversation she had yet to answer. Memories of their adventures and companionship were woven through the words more naturally as he spoke to her. She smiled as he spent a good chunk of the letter not even realizing how he had gushed about Ryne and all she had learned and how she had grown in that first year they spent together, as if he were trying to ensure Aeryn would love the child as much as he so obviously did--even if the foolish man hadn’t been able to tell the girl so until it had almost been too late.

But then, that was Thancred; locking his thoughts and feelings behind stoicism, snark, and literally in a box on a shelf.

She traced her nail along the letters of his name--again signed “Yours”--before tucking that bundle away and picking up the fourth.

By this time the twins were somewhere in Norvrandt, though Thancred had no opportunity to see them as Eulmore’s hunters were ever close. He wrote to Aeryn of his frustration with how many Scions had come to the First but she was still so far away and still in so much danger, alongside the rest of the Source and this shard itself. If she couldn’t come to Norvrandt to break the Light’s hold over the realm then the girl would have to make her choice sooner rather than later--and perhaps face the same fate as all of her predecessors.

He admitted that he feared both of those outcomes. He seemed to have begun to cross out that line, but had stopped himself.

5. The Old Bargain - NOT FFXIV! An original, short, spooky tale written for a monthly artling challenge in @onyrica‘s Patreon Discord this past fall.

The wind moaned across the swampy meadows, long grasses and rushes hushing the rattling cart that slowly moved down the muddy road, pulled by a stooped figure in a wide grey hat and long grey coat. The clouds hung low and dark overhead.

To the left the forest rose from the brush, thorny and tangled even as autumn winds denuded the trees, gold and red leaves dulled and browning in the damp soil, floating on slow rivulets. Some eventually found their way to the distant river, others trapped in stagnant little pools until they dissolved into nothing.

Shadows moved and birds flit away from them. The insects had long gone silent, leaving just the wind and the rushes and the creaking of the cart wheels, the occasional groan of the wood when it turned to keep to the winding path.

The figure huffed, the air grown colder by the evidence of misty breath; faint, but noticeable. Even at this time of year, the temperature should not be dropping so, not while the sun still strained against the clouds.

The route was a dangerous one, but had to be completed. Tradition demanded it. The figure ignored the muffled whimpers from the bed of the small cart.

Where the marsh road met the woods, an old hill rose. Gnarled vines covered in dying leaves showed the stone arch of the ancient door, proof the hill, and those beyond it, had once been much more. The figure set down the long handles of the cart and puffed out another breath, stretching aching limbs. Too many times over too many years had the cart creaked to the door.

BONUS: 15th Sun of the 1st Astral Moon Outtakes - I wrote 3100 words of Thancred’s POV and him actually writing the letters each year before I was able to get to the actual proper starting point of Aeryn finally receiving them. It’s unedited, uncorrected, etc, but I shared it in a Throwaway Thursday post anyway, cuz man the effort I went to trying to get “15th Sun” out by the real world equivalent day in a little over a week’s time. I hope I can use some of these scenes at some point in something more finished.

Aeryn had discovered through Minfilia when Thancred marked his own “nameday”; it was the day Louisoix had given him the surname Waters to fit into his new life in Sharlayan. It was a reasonable enough date for legal purposes in the bureaucratically-minded city, and they had used a bit of conjury and basic observation to guess as accurately as they could at Thancred’s age at the time.

“So you see why I don’t concern myself with celebrating it,” he had said with an expansive shrug. It was during those moons after Lahabrea but before the Banquet, when they had truly become friends–more than he had thought himself reasonable to hope for, after everything.

Aeryn nodded, understanding. Then held out a small, neatly wrapped package. “Well it’s the only date we have, and this shouldn’t go to waste.”

It was difficult to argue with that, or her charming smile and the expected blush that followed when he teasingly told her so. That someone other than Minfilia did insist on noting the day, random as it was, stirred a tight warmth in his chest; he had been dismissive enough in their younger years that his fellow archons no longer made the attempt, and he wasn’t sure the twins even knew or thought of it; their junior members in the Scions certainly didn’t.

Aeryn’s first present to him had been an orchestrion roll from a favorite minstrel, a tune he had absently hummed or whistled as he went about his work after hearing it played while they were still in Vesper Bay. Of course Aeryn’s own bardic inclinations had remembered and she had found a copy. It had begun their habit of finding books and music for one another, for their namedays, holidays, or simply rare moments that felt right.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Thancred Waters #Lyse Hext #Thancred x WoL #Original Writing #Lyn Writing #Shippy Nonsense #Aeryn Striker #Zenos Galvus

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strawberrymeriadoc · 4 years

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Coming out (again)

“Hey Pippin, can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure”

“I think I might be aroace.”

Pippin had known that Merry was asexual but he also knew that he had dated both men and women so he was confused. But he wanted to hear what his friend had to say and understand better.

“Oh! Thanks for telling me that. Um, I’m not totally sure what that means if I’m honest”

“Sure so…” Merry took a moment to gather himself before diving into the topic he had spent so much time studying recently. “Basically it means I’m asexual and aromantic. I don’t feel sexual or romantic attraction. Frankly I don’t even understand what either one could possibly feel like--especially romantic attraction.”

“Oh so you don’t want to be in a relationship then?”

“Well, not exactly. If I were in one I think it’d be one that’s called a queerplatonic relationship. That’s sort of how I approached my relationship with Jamie even though I didn’t know about the term at the time. But honestly, I’m not even sure I’d be comfortable in one of those.”

Pippin was beginning to feel sceptical. A relationship that’s not a relationship? What on Middle Earth does it involve then? Merry noticed the look of doubt in Pippin’s eyes and lost his nerve.

“That’s-that’s pretty much it,” Merry said quietly and then began to step away. Pippin realized with a jolt that Merry needed a lot of support in that moment but was feeling rejected instead. He knew it was a vulnerable thing to come out to someone.

“Well that sounds great! I’m so glad you’re figuring this out.”

Merry stopped and turned to face his companion. “Oh yeah? Thanks,” he said bashfully. “It feels good to have a name for it. The whole time I was dating Jamie I felt this...inability to feel grounded in myself. It felt almost the same as gender dysphoria does to me. I sometimes wonder if that feeling was me being aroace but trying to force myself into a traditional relationship.”

He looked out and saw the black tree’s silhouette against the deep indigo sky. A white streetlamp was weakly lighting the patch of darkness in front of their apartment. Peony was licking from her water bowl more noisily than usual.

“It’s just…” he continued “I don’t want to be aro. Or at least, I want to feel like I have a choice. But when I go on a date or start talking to someone like that, I have this absolute numbing feeling of dread and I don’t feel like myself. I can’t focus, I can’t relax. Part of me thinks it’s trauma but...lots of people have been traumatized, and they don’t all have this reaction to it. I don’t know…”

The more he thought about it, the more Merry found himself circling back to the same old doubts. Maybe you’re not really aromantic, you’re just traumatized, a voice that was himself and someone else mixed together said.

“Has anyone ever told you that?” Pippin asked.

“What?”

“That what you think is you being aromantic is you being traumatized.”

Merry thought for a moment. It was just something you heard around from strangers in all sorts of places. But he wasn’t sure if he had heard it said to himself.

“Oh, my therapist actually”

Pippin wrinkled his nose. “Your therapist? Well that’s not good. Sounds like you need to see a new therapist.”

“But she’s right! I have a lot of trauma, especially around relationships. She’s a trauma specialist, she would know”

“Maybe. But like you said, there’s tons of traumatized people out there, and they don’t all react this way to romantic things...Have you always felt this way?”

“Yeah I think so. I remember absolutely abhorring making out with my boyfriend...but he’d make me do it anyway. But I like holding hands with the people I’m dating and I like spending time with them... I don’t know, Pip, it’s all so confusing.”

Pippin had always thought hand holding was supposed to be read as romantic. But there was something to be said for holding hands with a friend. Or someone you cared about deeply that you didn’t necessarily want to date in a romantic way. He wondered why this wasn’t a more common thing.

“You know, dating people or kissing them shouldn’t feel like a chore. It shouldn’t feel like you’re panicked and dysphoric and not yourself. If this label feels good to you, use it. You can always change it if you need to”

Merry smiled at his friend. Pippin could be quite pragmatic when it counted. Merry needed that for when he was stuck in his head, running the same three arguments back and forth over and over.

“Thanks, Pippin. I knew talking to you would help.”

Pippin smiled as well. He hadn’t thought he had been particularly helpful. In fact, he worried he hadn’t seemed supportive enough.

“Hey, I’m here for you and am always down to talk about this stuff. I’m a little new to the queer community in general so I might not know everything about it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“That’s ok, I don’t know that much about it either,” Merry laughed.

“Can I give you a hug?”

Merry was surprised. “Oh, sure!”

Pippin put his arms around him and Merry buried his face in Pippin’s shoulder. His shirt was very soft and he felt warm. Merry felt really lucky to have a friend that was so understanding. He thought for a moment and then said a little nervously:

“I love you, Pippin”

Pippin felt a sudden warmth in his chest and hugged his friend in tighter.

“I love you too, Merry”

#merry brandybuck #pippin took #pippin #aromantic merry #asexual merry #aroace #aromantic #modern au #A hobbit in Minas Tirith #This is relatively early in their friendship #trauma mention

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musashi · 5 years

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can you talk a little bit about james being a sexual assault survivor & him having PTSD? i remember his backstory vaguely but I somehow didn't pick up on any of that and i really like your analyses

oh anon this is my FAVE kind of ask, thank you.

let’s talk about james teamrocket babey. this turned into more of an analysis on ep048 as a whole fghgf whoops.

so i think for the most part people who grew up with the anime have a vague recollection of what his backstory entails, but for anyone who doesn’t: he’s the only son of two millionaires, they abused him and generally treated him like shit, he ran away at a young age and joined the mafia and is a lot happier starving on the streets than he ever was in his luxurious estates.

rocket backstory tends to be kind of scattered, so james only ever gets a few whole episodes where the extent of that abuse is really gone into, and everything else you kinda have to piece together in bits and pieces.

james’ parents have expressed that they view him as an utter failure, a delinquent, and someone who refuses to grow up. they bogged down his childhood with constant tutoring across all subjects, rarely allowing him free time and more or less forcing him to live in isolation. he’s expressed that his only friend growing up was his growlithe--which even as a gift from his parents to him, is a sign of nobility. in the original kanto games, growlithe are ever only really owned by the ‘rich bitch’ class of trainer. essentially, james’ parents saw him nothing more than one more blip in the family line growing up, and were intent to raise him into an upper-class gentleman who could keep their money secure and pass it down further.

as a child james naturally rejected this--his spirit was too free for them to keep down, he was a naturally passionate person and he gets excited over things like pokemon competitions and bottlecap collecting and pro wrestling. his tutors tried to physically beat this out of him and his caretakers have thrown his collections in the trash to teach him lessons, but none of that could stop him from being who he was, doing things the way he wanted to do them.

his parents last resort to ‘fix’ him into their ideal son was to introduce him into an arranged marriage. they purposefully manipulated the situation so that him and jessebelle--the girl they’d chosen to be his wife--would meet on their own, and james fell in love with her pretty much on the spot. within days of meeting her, he wrote her a letter asking her to marry him. once she was certain she had him she started abusing him, too.

the first order of business was to get him away from his growlithe--his only safe person--by demanding he replace it with a skitty. this was what tipped him off to her being a piece of shit, and he refused and went back on his plans to marry her. jessebelle spent the rest of their time together hovering over james and demanding he do and say things the ‘proper’ way for persons of their class, more or less never leaving him alone and acting as a more stifling & obsessive stand in for his parents. she did this until he ran away, never to be seen again. until he was.

so that’s where the real dark implications come in. jessebelle’s only duty wasn’t just to whip their son into shape, it was also to produce an heir. like i said before, james is their only son, so if he doesn’t have kids, their wealth dies with him.

for a show mainly geared toward kids, they REALLY make it clear in ep048 that james is ‘obligated’ to copulate lmao. like they just short of tell him that they’re expecting him to fuck asap.

james is literally tied up for this whole lecture, his friends drag him into the house bound and gagged. i should preface this by saying that his parents manipulate him into coming home here by faking their own deaths, and if the mere concept of that isn’t sickening enough, james literally doesn’t fall for it. if you’ve ever seen an episode of pokemon you know that team rocket collectively share one braincell, but james has been abused & misled by these people enough to suspect they’re tricking him. everyone else in this episode is like ‘james, what the fuck, you don’t even care your parents are dead?’ and james is like ‘guys.’

he approaches his childhood home with more apprehension than he does anything else in the series. the second he sees jessebelle again, he’s urging them to get away sounds more like he’s worried about THEM than himself.

as if he’s well aware of the danger here and what to do about it, but his teammates have NO idea what they’ve gotten themselves into and he’s terrified for them.

so the short version is that his parents and his friends and his fiancee and everyone drag him down to a sex torture dungeon. like i really do not know how to describe it otherwise. they talk and talk about how james needs to make babies to keep capitalism alive and then they take him here

and you can make the argument that that’s reading it with an incredibly adult lens, and i get that, i’m not usually a fan of ‘edgy theories!1!!! childhood ruined!1!!1′ except that misty and brock are blushing when they see this room:

and ash, who’s actually canonically aroace, looks like this

they get it, he’s romance-blind, he doesn’t. the mere existence of this shot with a little knowledge of these characters pretty much confirms that it’s MEANT to be read with all the unfortunate obligations present.

jessebelle then proceeds to chase him around the room for a solid five whipping him into submission. he’s slippery as ever, so she sends out her vileplume and has it use stun spore on him, and THAT is where most of the real black shit comes in, because when she does that, right before he goes down he chokes out the words “this is just like last time.”

and, like, i don’t think it’s a coincidence that these shots are framed like this.

a lot of people also try to wave off the ‘this is like last time’ line, but he alludes to it again in ep110--the stun spore detour--it’s just talked about less, because it’s only in the japanese version. in that episode, jessie is suffering from stun spore poisoning and is sick and bedridden from it, and james talks about how when he was a kid suffering from the same affliction, there was an antidote his grandpa made him from a certain plant. in the sub, he mentions vileplume, naming it as the pokemon that felled him.

(he also doesn’t mention this until jessie’s pretty fucking sick and in pain, and after she’s given him the runaround forcing him to tend to her every need. it would’ve benefited the both of them to know there was a cure sooner, but he doesn’t remember it until late in the day. why? i mean, if you ask me? repressed memories. he also waves off jessie’s sickness as theatrics, saying ‘look, all you did was get stunned by a vileplume.’ as if it’s just a normal occurrence, not worth freaking out over.)

there are a lot of discrepancies about when exactly jessebelle started doing this to him. a lot of people dont like to acknowledge that she was assaulting him when they were kids, but canon seems to suggest that james ran away when he was around 5-10 years old. i personally view the flashback where he supposedly runs for good as ambiguous, but it can be easily accepted that he was expressing it as the exact night he left, and the fact that all his parents have to use for his wanted poster are childhood photos supports this.

(personally, i think he returned back home after this point before running once more and joining team rocket, and thats when most of the terrible stuff happened. but, still just because they were kids doesn’t mean it couldn’t have.)

as for the PTSD, james canonically has triggers and flashbacks, all centered around marriage as a whole. in episode 198--the heartbreak of brock--a girl says the word fiancee at him and he literally has flashbacks so intense that he climbs a tree in terror. in ag147--sweet baby james--his caretakers ask if jessie his his wife, and he collapses to nothing and screams that he’d rather die than marry her. this has nothing to do with him not liking her romantically and everything to do with the word wife, he envisions what this would look like and it entails jessie on the couch bossing him around while he’s a slave forced to do her bidding. it’s strange on the surface, because jessie and james are incredibly domestic already and jessie does tend to boss him around, and maybe 7 times out of ten he’s actually kind of delighted to worship her. but throwing the concept of marriage in there suddenly turns it into a torture scenario in james’ eyes.

beyond that, there’s a lot of themes of retraumatization and reclamation in james’ personal story, which i talked about far more eloquently here. but yeah, suffice to say that as far as edgy black childhood theories go, this is one of the ones i am incredibly convinced of/attached to, if you ask me it is canon.

everyone drink your loving james juice today, please.

#long post #pokemeta #wendy rambles #abuse /#rape /#cocsa /#os #ep048 #ep110 #ep198 #ag #ag147 #dp #dp153

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five-hour-anxiety · 6 years

Text

CREEPY HAUNTED HOUSE TOUR: DON'T FOLLOW US IN 👻💀👽😦😈 | The Theory of Real-Activity | LOGAN FOUND A BODY YOU GUYS

@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 @zennyo

Word Count: 4500

Warnings: panic attacks, arguments, haunted houses, talk of demons

Pairing: platonic analogical

Summary: Logan and Virgil run a vlog together, and have decided to film in a haunted house.

“Virgil, for the last time, ghosts aren’t real.”

“Yes, I know that! You know that! Roman and Patton don’t, though, so we need to go ‘ghost hunting’ to prove it once and for all!”

“I understand where you are coming from, but do we really need to do this? There must be a better approach to the issue – one that will not cost as much and save us the tour of a condemned building.”

“Oh, that’s hilarious – you think I want to step foot in there? My anxiety is spiked at the thought of what could go wrong on the way out there, much less once we actually go in.” Virgil sighed and ran his hands down his face. His grape colored bangs fell back into place, and he blew on them in an annoyed manner. “Unfortunately, Roman has access to our Twitter and already made a poll.”

“You mean to tell me-”

“Yep. The people want a ghost busting episode.”

“Why on Earth did I give him the password for the account? What was I thinking?” Logan brought his tie up to his mouth, and Virgil strained to hear the muffled curses over the mouthful of cotton.

“Roman basically just challenged you to a giant game of chicken – a public one, and are you really gonna let him win that easy?”

“Grammar, Virgil, but you have a point. I cannot let that day-dreaming ditz best me. Clear your weekend schedule, we are going on a… what did you call it? Spirit pursuit?”

“Okay, first – I have no weekend plans as that would require having more than three friends, and two – it’s a ghost hunt so unless you want me to meme the shit out of you again, never call this a spirit pursuit again.”

“Oh, please, our audience does not need another joke – it’s bad enough you got everyone and their cousin to call the video blog ‘The Theory of Real-Activity” instead of its official name.”

“Look, that’s better than ‘VirgeofDiscovery’, and it’s a vlog Logan stop trying to sound smart for once in your life.”

***

“I think that I saw this on Buzzfeed Unsolved, once. Just put the flashlight down and ask… something… to turn it on.”

“You know this won’t work, right?” The camera’s mic picks up Logan, who was exploring another room. “And it’s Buzzfeed, why were you watching that garbage?”

“Because I love Shane Madej, the only perfect human.” The camera swings upward so that we see Virgil’s face, and he points at the lens. “You can all quote me on that – make sure he knows that Virge from The Theory of Real-Activity loves his work.”

“Oh my God, Virgil, are you using our video blog in a sad attempt to get your internet crush to notice you?”

“I-No! It’s a squish! And stop calling it a video blog!”

“If I were as childish as Patton, I would begin to sing one of those schoolyard chants about you and Mr. Madej sitting in a tree.”

“Well, gee, thanks for-”

“I am going to rap it instead.”

“LOGAN, I SWEAR TO GOD.”

“Virgil and Shane, sitting in-” The camera stops recording.

***

“Alright, do we have everything we need? My bag has a portable charger, extra batteries, and some water bottles as well as the camera I plan to use.”

“I have the salt.”

“Virgil, didn’t we agree that ghosts aren’t real?”

“Yes, but you can never be too safe. Besides – Patton wouldn’t let me leave without it, so now we have a pound of salt.” Virgil shook it around and shimmied. Logan groaned, and reached for the other’s bag, looking to see if anything else was in there.

“Oh, I see you have a first aid kit – that’s a good addition. You also have the snacks, flashlights, and a camera but I don’t see your stress ball? Are you sure you wish to go without?”

“No worries, man, I got it in the car.”

“Why is it in your car?”

“Roman had to drive me to my therapy session, and the chariot-”

“You mean that disgusting minivan?”

“Yeah, the chariot. Anyway, I have it in there because Roman was driving.”

Logan frowned at the thought, knowing that the man often bragged about having a lead foot while driving. Virgil just shrugged and hoisted his bag over his shoulder, shaking the salt container as he went out the door.

“Hey, we both made it to the office in one piece, it’s all good. Moving on, we should probably do the intro before we leave the house. Get at least one shot with decent lighting.”

“Ah, yes, that is a good idea – do you wish to hold the camera or should I?” Logan locked the door behind him, making sure the spare key hadn’t been moved in case he misplaced his set.

“I’ll film, whenever you try to do anything in selfie mode you trim off half our heads.” Virgil threw his bag in the trunk and moved over to the passenger side door.

“Why is it whenever we go anywhere in i car you refuse to drive, Virgil?”

“If you didn’t leave your car at the university this weekend, we would’ve taken yours. And driving makes me anxious.”

“Then why do you own a car?” It was a question Logan asked frequently, and never got a satisfying answer to.

“I have a car because I’m too lazy to skateboard everywhere.”

Logan rolled his eyes, and slipped into the car, taking the keys from the lanky man. He tied his hair back into a ponytail and motioned to Virgil to start filming.

“Sup everyone, we still need an official video intro so keep sending in ideas. And I’m sure that you read the title, so y’all know we’re going on a ghost hunt today.”

“Please, Virgil, don’t make it a clickbait title. Please don’t hurt me like that.”

“I do what I want, nerd.” Logan groaned and started the engine as Virgil continued to talk, only interrupting to correct the brand name and to offer his stance when Virgil asked if he believed in ghosts. Despite his easy tone, though, Virgil seemed tense and his shoulders were drawn up close.

The drive was by no means a long one, but by the time they finally reached the old house, Virgil had somehow managed to go through his entire playlist, having skipped each song after one or two measures. Logan found it annoying but said nothing, as he could see Virgil gripping his stress ball out of the corner of his eye.

This wouldn’t end well.

***

“Logan, Logan it turned the flashlight on please, please tell me there’s a logical explanation for that!”

“I don’t know! Maybe it’s a faulty battery, or… or the switch isn’t fully on so it’s flipping between its off and on mode!”

“OH MY GOD IT’S MOVING!”

There’s a high-pitched scream, and the sound of footsteps retreating. The recording cuts to Virgil’s camera and shows Logan sprinting away as fast as he can.

“YOU COWARD, DON’T LEAVE ME HERE! LOGAN!”

***

“So, this is the place – leave it to Roman to pick a fucking mansion.”

“Yes, well, I would expect no less from him. The Victorian style is quite breathtaking, despite it’s less than perfect condition.” Logan was leaning against the car, cleaning his glasses. Virgil shifted from foot to foot and fiddled with the straps on his bag.

“Do we really have to go in? We could just tell Roman there was like, a cop here or something, and he of all people should know that trespassing on private property doesn’t end well.”

“I do not believe breaking and entering the theatre to steal a prince costume is quite the same, Virgil, and Roman would find that story compelling. No, we would have to mention that the officer was angered by our intent to enter a condemned area – we would at least have Patton on our side with that.”

“Please don’t remind me of how unsafe this is. Not while I’m holding the car keys.”

“You won’t drive anywhere.”

“At this point, self-preservation would let me do anything.” Virgil sighed and threw the keys at Logan. “Just hold on to these – don’t think you want me driving off without ya.”

Logan hummed in agreement, pocketing the keys as he walked towards the front door. By the time he reached the porch, he looked back to Virgil who still hadn’t moved. Logan gestured towards the door.

“Okay! Fine! But if something happens, this is all on you and your ego!”

“If I recall correctly, you were the one who wanted to come here.”

“Well, I changed my mind. C’mon, let’s just get this over with. Camera’s rolling.”

***

“Logan, this isn’t funny!” The camera picks up a breeze from Virgil’s jacket as he sprints in the direction he thinks Logan went, his cries ignored.

The camera shifts suddenly, and we come face to face with the man himself. Virgil had stopped running and is standing in the front room.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I wish I was back in Logan’s basement listening to him rant about Mothman again.” He sighs, putting his free hand behind his head. “I’d rather listen to him confess his undying love for the thing than be here, choking on dust.

“But! Instead, I let Roman win – which, by saying that, I feel nauseous – and now we’re here running around a death maze. There’s a ton of rusty nails and if we get cut on those we aren’t gonna get to a hospital in time. I think I saw a bat earlier? And where there’s bats, there’s disease-carrying mosquitoes. Not to mention those jacked up stairs.” The camera focuses on a flight of rotted stairs, the floorboards broken and, in some spots, missing altogether.

“Yeah, stairs aren’t supposed to be bouncy. I’m just-I’m just gonna call Patton and see if he knows what to do from here.”

***

“I think there’s more dust in here than in Aunt Patty’s attic, and that’s saying something.”

The house was older than anything the two had ever seen, and there was a fine film of filth covering every available surface. Logan couldn’t help but notice the numerous cobwebs and think of Patton – specifically, how much the man would hate being around so many.

“Hey, do you, uh…” Virgil moved his flashlight over to one of the webs and stuttered out a few more false starts. “Do you think any of the spiders who made those things are, like, poisonous?”

“If there are any venomous spiders, they will not bite you unless you give them a reason. They cannot eat you, so there is no purpose in wasting their venom on a large creature like you.” This seemed to calm the taller man down, and Logan moved over to the staircase.

“Hey, don’t go up those, nerd, I already checked them. They’re not safe – the wood’s so rotted it’s squishy and soft.” Logan nodded and made a mental note to locate a different way upstairs.

The two continued to look around for a while longer, not finding anything remotely interesting. After about half an hour of quiet observation, Virgil suggested they started filming, claiming that the sooner they wrapped this up, the sooner they could drive away and never come back.

“Salutations, class-”

“Logan, you’re boring.”

“I am talking like I normally do, Virgil, how else should I speak? Like Roman, perhaps?”

“God, no, please. Anything but that.”

“Well, in that case – greetings one and all! We’ve finally arrived at our grand destination and have been parading around the grounds for a few hours!”

“I will throw this salt at you.”

“Little grains of salt are no match for a prin- oof!”

“I told you I would.”

“You threw the entire container at me! Like a savage!”

“What, you can pretend to Roman and I can’t?”

***

“Okay, so calling Patton was a bust. He told me to use the salt like a weapon and I had to tell him I already chucked it at Logan’s face.” Virgil snickers, running a finger under his nose. “That was the best thing to happen today if I’m being honest. Pat didn’t really appreciate it, though.

“Roman was also a wasted call – apparently he’s at some audition and when he answered, well, he just started screaming about newspapers.” Virgil pauses, and we hear something shatter off-screen.

“H-Hello? Demons?” The camera slowly pans across the room, almost making a full circle as even more thumps can be heard. Before it can finish, Virgil screams and drops the camera.

The screen is filled with static.

***

It had been about two hours, and in that time Logan had somehow managed to: find a way upstairs, provoke something into turning that flashlight on, proceed to run upstairs, get lost, and find a new respect for supernatural beliefs.

“I cannot believe I’m saying this, but I believe in ghosts now.” His words echoed around the attic, unheard by anyone but him and perhaps the mouse he saw earlier. At least, he hoped that’s what it was. He couldn’t stand the thought of sharing space with a rat.

“I believe in ghosts, so can we stop playing this juvenile game? How on Earth do I get back downstairs?” He waited for an answer as the logical part of his brain scolded him for speaking to thin air.

He didn’t get one.

“This is ridiculous, I should know better.” He paused and listened again. “If I change my mind and say ghost are not real, will one of you tell me how to get back downstairs?” Logan removed his glasses and began to pace the room. The amount of dirt that had gathered on his frames was astounding – perhaps he had stumbled through a cobweb in his hasty exit.

“Well, what would Patton do in this situation? At present, he may make a joke about his poor eyesight and lack of- ow!” As he spoke, Logan ran into an old china cabinet – it didn’t fall, but he still held his breath as it swayed back and forth.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” Logan whispered, moving to the front to see if anything was inside. He found a few plates and teacups, though none were particularly impressive. If he were Roman or Patton he may have found the painted flowers beautiful, but he wasn’t, and he didn’t. The maroon one rimmed in gold paint did remind him of a set Roman owned, however, and made a mental note to come back for it if there was time.

But first, he had to find his way downstairs and reunite with Virgil.

***

“So, as you may have seen – though I can’t be sure because obviously, I do not know how this will be edited – I was forced to make a hasty, yet calm, retreat from the study.”

The screen cuts to a replay of Logan fleeing the room, and trombones play as he screams. Text pops up and it says “logan lies” in comic sans.

“After my exit, I managed to find my way upstairs and now I am unsure how to get down – much like a cat climbing a tree. But I did stumble across a cabinet full of teacups that I think a friend of mine would enjoy. I have also concluded that there are too many mothballs in this house and I will not cross meeting the Mothman off my bucket list today.”

Logan crosses the room as he paces, chewing on his lip in between sentences. “Despite my own disappointment, I find myself upset the most over being separated from Virgil. I do not believe he is well – I am ashamed to admit that I have only now realized he was suppressing a panic attack as we drove out here.

“To be quite honest, camera, there is a very good chance this footage won’t be posted online. It depends on how Virgil is doing and whether he is okay with releasing footage taken of him during an atta-”

Logan trips and falls into the china cabinet once more, a plate shattering upon impact. The camera swings around to show the floor and a trap door that was slightly ajar. A ladder falls from the floor, designed to be hidden when not in use.

“Well, here is my way down. This ladder does not look up to code,” He steps down on a rung, testing his weight, “but it should hold long enough for me to get down.” He begins his descent but stops suddenly. Logan moves over to the cabinet and pulls out a teacup, placing it carefully in his bag. His footsteps are heavy and echo as he travels down the ladder.

At the bottom, he screams out Virgil’s name.

***

“Virgil! Virgil, can you hear me?”

Logan shook him hard, but he got no response.

“Virgil, please, you need to get up. I need to know you are okay.” Logan had spotted him collapsed in the middle of the room and jumped down the ladder as soon as he could, forgoing the last four rungs and sliding over to where Virgil lay.

“Mm, not so loud Logan. My ears are ringing.”

“Well, I expected that. You must have hit your head when you collapsed – can you tell me if I sound muffled as if I were underwater?”

“No, everything’s just beyond loud.” Virgil winced as he sat up, Logan taking note of where he grabbed his head. “Logan, are you okay? You’re crying!”

A quick swipe at his eye revealed that a few tears had formed and escaped.

“Well, of course – I am not without a heart, Virgil. The sight of you sprawled out like that was… immensely alarming, to say the very least.” Logan’s breath shuddered, and a few minutes of silence passed between the two, interrupted by an occasional hum from Virgil.

“The ringing is gone.” The silence was broken, and with its absence came Logan’s ability to breath deeply.

“That is wonderful, Virgil.” Logan stood up and dusted his jeans off before offering a hand to the other man. “May I ask what circumstances led to you losing consciousness?”

“I don’t know.” Virgil kicks at the floor. “So, don’t ask.”

“Well, may I share some theories I have developed?”

“Knock yourself out.” Logan winced at the phrase, and Virgil mumbled an apology as he collected his equipment.

“Virgil, I knew you were edging toward a panic attack on the way here – so I would like to start by offering a sincere apology for not saying anything sooner.”

“Don’t. I didn’t tell you, so it’s my fault. I just didn’t want you to worry too much – or to turn around. I know Roman would have given you a hard time if we didn’t film an episode here, so I figured I would just deal.”

“As I have told you many times, there is no ‘dealing’ with these situations alone in our friendship. Regardless, I knew you were not okay and didn’t say anything.”

“God, Logan, can’t you let me blame myself for once? At least let me share the blame.”

“Fine, we shall share at your insistence. Moving on, I believe the building panic caused you to experience an irregular breathing pattern. I deduce that the lack of oxygen led to you losing-”

“No. You’re wrong.”

“I beg your pardon? You just told said you did not know what happened how can you say I am wrong?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, okay?! Damnit, Logan, it’s embarrassing how bad this attack was and how ridiculous my shit brain makes me react.” Virgil strode away, and out of the room, calling over his shoulder.

“Just help me film some stuff so people don’t know that the passing out act was real. I’ll lay down over there, and just… I dunno we’ll improvise.”

“Is it wise to publish this footage? Roman and his teasing be damned, it is more important that you are okay, Virgil! These cameras likely have footage of you panicking and us arguing! Are a few views really worth it?”

“Yes, because I wanted this episode! I put the poll on Twitter, not Roman, okay? So please, let’s film something stupid, make the whole thing look staged, and leave.”

“Virgil-”

“Please, Logan.”

“No.” Logan crossed his arms and stood up straight. He was taller than Virgil, and his glare was cold enough to give Virgil goosebumps.

“I’m sorry, ‘no’? Oh, so now you say no! Not when I asked to come here, not when I asked for demons to turn a flashlight, not when-”

“Virgil, stop this. You are behaving in an immature manner and this needs to stop. How was I supposed to know that you wanted me to tell you ‘no’? I am not a mind reader, so you cannot blame your poor communication skills on my inability to instantly know what you want.”

Virgil said nothing. He glared at Logan and sat down on the floor, eventually inviting him to do the same. They sat there for a while, as both needed time to calm down before speaking.

After what felt like an eternity later, Virgil finally spoke up.

“I’m gonna start, but you need to let me finish before you cut in, okay?” Logan nodded, and Virgil took a deep breath. “I wanted to film at a haunted house because I knew we would get way more views than we normally do.

“I thought, hey! More views means more add revenue – and yes, I know it’s not a lot – but with that extra money, we could start building up the funds to rent an apartment. I’m sick of living with my parents, Logan, and I know you are too.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Virgil, but I would rather endure a few more years with them than have you hurting for the sake of loose change.”

“Yeah, well. What’s done is done, I guess.” Virgil sighed and leaned over on Logan. “I lied, you know. I do know why I passed out earlier.” He sighed and buried his nose into Logan’s shoulder.

“I will not deny that I want to know why, Virgil, but I do not want you to share if you are uncomfortable.”

“Heh, well, maybe you’ll learn something new – did you know that anxiety can make you see hallucinations? Specifically, when the fight or flight stuff kicks in?” Logan raises an eyebrow but remains silent. “When the, uh, the – instinct, for lack of better word – kicks in, your pupils dilate.

“And when that happens, the sudden light change can cause a person – like me – to see shadows and figures at the edge of my vision.”

“Fascinating – but I assume this is a rare situation and does not happen to you often?”

“No, it doesn’t. But it did when… did you break something upstairs? Because something shattered, there was a lot of thumping, and then they just- appeared. I think that made me panic even more, and then yes – the lack of oxygen probably did the rest.”

“Ah, yes, I fell into a cabinet of china, and I believe a plate was shattered. I apologize for my involvement.”

“Nah, no worries about that. It was just shoddy circumstances. And,” Virgil looked up, offering a weak grin to Logan, “As cheesy as it sounds, we are probably a bit closer than we were before this whole trip.”

“You are right, that is extremely cliché. I appreciate the sentiment, however, despite how infuriating your statement is. Shall we film the ending of this video, now?”

Virgil snorted, pushing himself up using Logan’s shoulder.

“Yeah, let’s this thing wrapped up.”

***

“Virgil! Virgil, please get up!” Logan is frantically shaking Virgil’s shoulder, his voice wobbly. The camera has been left on after being discarded in a hurry.

“Logan… Logan no, don’t- don’t go in the closet.”

“I spent ten years in the closet, I have no intention of going back in.” Logan sniffs as he speaks, and Virgil gasps awake, shooting upward.

“Huh? Wait, what happened? …Why would you go back in the closet?”

“You said not to go in there – what happened to you?”

“I don’t- I don’t remember. There was a- I think I saw something, Logan. A shadow, maybe?”

“You must have seen my shadow as I came down the ladder.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Virgil pauses and stares at a spot on the wall behind Logan. “Where is the ladder you came down?”

“To your left.” Logan gestures with his head as he hoists Virgil to his feet.

“That means it couldn’t have been your shadow. The light wouldn’t have hit you correctly to cast a shadow over there.” Virgil points to a closet off to the side of the ladder. “Besides, the shadow didn’t look… well not to be cliché, but it didn’t look human.”

“Preposterous.” Logan has moved over to the camera, and the screen goes black as he picks it up. A few moments later, it’s aimed at Virgil as he talks about what he saw in detail.

“…and it had, well they weren’t horns per say, but they were definitely not something that’s on your head, nerd. But, whatever,” Virgil rolls his eyes, “I can tell you don’t believe me. Let’s just get out of here.”

Logan hums in agreement, and the screen goes black.

***

“Goodbye, murder house, see you never!”

“Well, this footage is unusable.”

“Wait, why?”

“I am not ending the video with you flipping off an old house.” Logan sighed and turned the camera off. Virgil pouted and turned to finish packing the equipment into his car.

“Hey, I know what I’mma call this video. ‘Logan finds a body’!” Virgil spread his arms out in emphasis, narrowly missing Logan’s face in the process.

“That is absolutely morbid, Virgil, and uncharacteristically short.” Logan shut the trunk with a slam and fished the keys out of his bag as Virgil moved to the front seat.

“Yeah, no, it’ll have emojis in it, the vlog title of course, and-”

“By chance, will it be the proper title?” The car started with a roar, and the two were met with a blast of warm air. Virgil scrambled to open his window and Logan quickly shut off the air flow. “Because the channel is called ‘VergeofDiscovery’, not the childish pun Patton came up with.”

“The Theory of Real-Activity is an amazing name, and I will fight you on this. You’re just jealous that you didn’t come up with it.”

“Falsehood!”

“Keep telling yourself that, nerd. Pass me the aux cord.”

The drive home was lighter than the last one – Virgil never once changed the music and the two could be heard screaming along as they flew down the road. The stress ball remained in the cup holder, untouched until the next big adventure.

#sanders sides fic #virgil sanders #logan sanders #analogical #thomas sanders fic #ali writes #yall this has been in the works for m o n t h s #im just #so proud of this one #for once #the theory of real activity

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