All right, so as most of you already know, we’re working on a new event!
Firstly I would like to say a big thank you to Ronnie and Kara, because this is their brain child, and it saved me coming up with something similar (and probably not as good) myself. I really appreciate the work you’re putting in to make this great for everyone. Thank you, guys. ♥
There will be an event post with more details about what exactly is happening soon. It’ll be nice, though, and I promise no literal explosions like the last one. It’s also fairly interactive, and there are certain things you’ll be able to make decisions about. We’ve also made sure that every character has a reason/connection that would explain them being there, so everybody is welcome.
I just wanted to post to say that we have finally settled on a date. I know there was some debate about what would better suit the majority, and we’ve settled on September 21st. If this doesn’t work for you, or you’re unable to be around on that night, then don’t panic! It’s not the end of the world. As always, this event will probably stretch out across the following week, so you’ll easily be able to catch up and get involved as soon as your time frees up a bit.
I’m also in the process of thinking of a Hallowe’en themed event. So, if you have any ideas on a theme/location/plot/want your character to host it, feel free to approach me! If not, that’s also fine, and I’ll figure out something to surprise you with, instead. It’s just a call in case anybody had an idea in mind that they’d love to play out, but were just waiting for the opportunity to use it. I want you guys to be as involved as impossible with this stuff, so you get more enjoyment out of it!
If you have any questions or concerns, as always, my inbox is open.
Thank you all for the hard work you continue to put into this place! Love you all.
Summary: Vergilius. Vergil. Virgil. Different spellings for the same Roman poet.
For some reason no one talks about the fact that Virgil's name does in fact fit the dark sides naming pattern.
-
Or: Logan and Virgil have a discuss about the name 'Virgil' and what it means.
Warnings: none
[ao3 link]
~~~
Vergilius
It’s after a meeting with Thomas- who is once again panicking over the simplest of decision making, though to be fair, a large part of that is Virgil’s responsibility as well- when Logan corners him.
Virgil recognizes the situation for what it is right away. Logan gets this shine to his eyes, not quite a twinkle, more of a glimmer. Virgil knows what that look means. Logan is curious and he wants answers and he won’t leave until he gets them.
It's one of Logan’s best traits, his determination and dedication. It’s also one of his worsts.
“Why Virgil?” Logan asks, once he’s fully entered the room and checks that they are alone. (Logan’s not subtle to begin with, and it’s Virgil's job to notice the things others don't, he’s not going to pass over Logan’s sweep of the room for what it is. Logan’s making sure that they are truly alone).
“What?” Virgil replies, “Logan I have no clue what you’re talking about. I’ve literally done nothing.” A brief course of panic. “Wait, why- Logan is something wrong?”
“No, no, no,” Logan confirms, and Virgil relaxes. He lets his muscles and fists untense from where they were coiled and ready to strike as if he had the physical ability to fight every single problem away.
“Not ‘why, comma, Virgil,’” Logan clarifies, “why Virgil.” Or attempts to clarify, because Virgil is now even more lost than before.
“Why the name Virgil?” Logan asks, “Why not change it completely.”
Virgil blinks at Logan. Once. Twice.
“What?” Virgil asks, completely thrown off balance and one word rebuttal coming off slightly harsher than he intended. He trusts Logan- he does- but vulnerability has never been his strong suit and his name- well… but Virgil’s working on it. He is. He’s trying.
(Why does he feel like trying is never good enough).
“I don’t understand why you would keep it. I thought you would have changed it,” Logan remarks, oblivious too or plain ignoring Virgil’s inner turmoil.
Logan’s dismissal of his name stings more than Virgil’s ready to admit, and he realizes he has to do something fast. Because Virgil is his name, of course it is, and he’s not getting rid of it. But Logan- are the other light sides mad at him for keeping his name? Do they think it ties him to the dark sides that much more?
(Virgil’s so tired of being a dark side. So tired of everything he does being marked bad. He’s still having to relearn that he is not fundamentally a bad person after all these years).
“Logan,” Virgil says weakly, not sure how to build his defense on this particular subject, “Logan it’s my name.”
“I know,” Logan agrees, “and I would have thought that you don’t like it. You have already taken small measures to change it. I thought it was strange you stopped at that. Do you not wish to change your name? Am I mistaken?”
“I-” Virgil stutters, trying to gather his thoughts on the matter. Because Logan’s right. Virgil doesn’t like his name, doesn’t like how it rolls off the tongue. Too many syllables, too much weight, too much history.
Virgil is a small change. But it’s so so so much better.
Virgil is Virgil.
“I- I mean- yeah- I don’t like my original name. But Virgil- Virgil is better.”
Logan considers him for a moment, watching Virgil with a steady gaze before giving a slight nod.
“Alright,” he agrees, “as long as it works for you.”
Virgil nods, and thinks that’s it.
But Logan hovers in the rooming, leaning forward slightly. Virgil can practically see his mind racing. It’s obvious he has something to say.
Virgil raises an eyebrow.
“Yes Logan?”
“May I ask two questions?” Logan asks, “the second might be uncomfortable or invasive. You may refuse to answer at any time, even if you give me consent to ask it now.”
Virgil mulls over the words and reminds himself that this is Logan. He would never hurt Virgil intentionally. Unintentionally- sure, but it’s happened in the past. It could certainly happen here.
But Virgil’s willing to take that risk.
He nods.
“I don’t understand why Virgil is acceptable to you,” Logan prefaces, “Virgil is nothing but a shortened version of Vergilius, and both names along with Vergil- spelled with an ‘e’- are all alternate titles for the same historical poet. They seem so completely connected together that I don’t understand how you could find one comforting and the other repulsive.”
Which is fair. Like Logan said, Virgil is one of many spellings, but all the spellings refer to the same name. It’s like when people sometimes spell Kaitlyn with a “c” or a “i” instead of “y”. Alternate spelling, sure, but the same name.
That’s all Virgil has done, switching from Vergelius to plain old Virgil.
“So,” Logan continues, “My question for you is wherein lies that difference? What allows you to be comfortable with Virgil but not Vergilius?”
Virgil has an answer. He’s thought about this for quite some time himself, even if he had never expected anyone to ask him about. But Virgil represents anxiety, and he double, even triple checked his own name, his own reasoning to determine that he was completely satisfied with it.
Now how to explain it in words?
“We all started with names,” Virgil says slowly, “Intentionally or not, Thomas assigned us names that fit us when we were formed. Right?”
“Yes- well not exactly,” Logan responds. Virgil raises his eyebrows at him. “The names Thomas gave us represented how Thomas perceived us when we formed, not necessarily are true authentic selves.”
Virgil gives a small nod of acknowledgement.
“Fair enough,” he allows. “So- Logan, a question for you. Why were you named Logan?”
“Logan. Logos. Logic,” Logan reciters, “the principle of reason and judgement.”
“Right,” Virgil agrees, because his has always been one of the easiest to make sense of. “And I’m Virgil. Again with the Greek and Roman origins. Potentially coming from the term ‘vigil,’ to keep watch. As anxiety that’s my job. Then the connection to the poet- which sure that takes us closer to Roman’s territory but the few times Roman and me have actually gotten along is when we’ve mixed his creativity and the way I feel emotions- specifically surrounding anxiety and fear- to create art.”
“Yes,” Logan agrees.
Virgil nods and considers how to continue. He knows what he wants to say but he has to think about it for a moment and calculate the proper way to present his feelings to Logan. Logan wants facts, knowledge, logic. That isn’t Virgil’s default and it takes him a minute to speak Logan's language.
“Your name fits your role. My name fits mine. It’s not a name I chose, but I feel that it fits me well. It- my name allows me to be more than anxiety. Anxiety has always restricted me, made me be one thing. Virgil gives me the freedom to choose and be myself while still providing comfortable familiarity. I don’t have to limit myself to a simplified emotion. I can just be… Virgil.”
Logan studies him for a moment, eyes sweeping across his body as if searching for a lie.
“Okay,” he eventually says, “I can understand that. But then why not keep Vergilius?”
Virgil gives a weak smile.
“I thought that would have been obvious.”
Logan frowns.
“Your name doesn’t make you a dark side.”
“But it matches the undeniable pattern,” Virgil points out.
Logan hums but doesn’t protest. It’s not like he could. Virgil’s right.
Roman. Patton. Logan.
Remus. Janus. Vergilius.
“It hurts,” Virgil admits finally. And it’s hard to admit but he’s trying to be vulnerable, trying to open up and he’s going to give Logan the benefit of the doubt. (Even so his heart beats louder and his breath grows slightly shorter and his fingers and toes curl tight and tense up). “It hurts to know that somewhere in Thomas’s subconscious, he sees us as good and bad.”
Logan's frown grows deepens.
“That’s an over simplification of the complex roles each of us carry out.”
“I know,” Virgil says. He didn’t once upon a time. He used to truly believe that there was good and bad and that he was bad, that he hurt Thomas no matter what even when he tried his hardest to be good. But those days are mostly behind him. Mostly. He still had some bad days. “I know that Logan. But Thomas hasn’t always seen it that way.”
“Do you think Thomas sees you that way now?”
A few weeks ago Virgil would have said yes- that Thomas only thought he hurt them and would be glad to get rid of Virgil and the pain he brought with him.
Now though…
Thomas told him that he was wanted, that he was needed, that he was loved.
What a strange concept.
“I-“ Virgil hesitates, “I think Thomas is learning to see shades of gray.”
Logan nods.
“And you are of course aware that Thomas was raised religious.”
Virgil snorts.
“No shit Logan, it wasn’t like I was there for all of it or anything.”
“You weren’t?” Logan friend, eyebrows knitting in, “I was certain you had formed by then, am I-“ Logan pauses, clears his throat and adjusts his glasses, “right. Sarcasm.”
Virgil quirks a smile and gives a small nod.
“Got it in one teach.”
Logan straightens his posture, hands coming to rest in front of him and head up. Virgil recognizes it as Logan’s “I’m about to give you a shit ton of info posture.”
“Okay then. Well then you are aware that Thomas was raised with the awareness that things were either good or bad. Thomas was raised with extremes. And as he grew, he eventually started to learn about shades of gray. But as a very young kid it’s hard to see things as nuanced and detailed as they actually are. Add religious teachings that emphasize that good and bad are opposite absolutes and it makes sense that a young Thomas’s brain divided us that way. But that does not mean we still are that way.”
Virgil is- quite honestly Virgil is touched. He’s used to putting up strong walls, ready to fight back against whatever tries to hurt him. He’s still getting used to the idea that people actually want to interact with him and being validated so strongly by Logan almost makes him glow.
“I know,” Virgil says softly, “I know. The world isn’t black.” Vergilius. “Or white.” Something entirely new. “It’s grey.” Virgil. “And I- I’m not exactly sure where I fall now. I’m not- I’m not a dark side, but I don’t think I’m a light side either. I’ve uh- kinda created my own little space.”
Logan looks at Virgil with his piercing gaze.
“Ah. I understand now. Thank you Virgil.”
And for some reason, Virgil thinks Logan really understands it. His name, and so much more.
(There’s so much more than light or dark).
“Yeah sure. Anytime.”
Logan gives him a final nod and turns to exit, leaving Virgil to his thoughts.
Just before Logan passes out through the doorway, he turns around.
“Virgil?”
“Yes.”
“You have a nice name. It is- admirable that you chose to keep parts of it and alter the rest to best define you.”
Warmth. warmth everyone, sleeping across his body and into his heart, through his entire being.
“Thank you,” he manages.
And then Logan is gone.
If this is what being accepted is like- well, he might want to get used to it.
I would love to see if Virgil ever like suspects that Roman might have ADHD after having a really really similar student in his class with ADHD
-anon
I know you said that Roman has ADHD in this au, and I would love to see a oneshot about him struggling with it like with being distracted during important events and stuff.
-anon
Summary:
Roman and ADHD- a journey. (A really quick one actually, because- again- ADHD).
Warnings: Ableism, PTSD, Panicking
[ao3 link]
~~~
Transitive Law
Virgil had always considered himself good at handling different students’ accommodations. He’d gone through schooling with accommodations himself, and there was nothing worse than teachers who weren’t supportive or thought they knew better than him. As a result, he tried to do his best to listen and be receptive to his students, as well as taking the time to learn, understand, and support them through their accommodations.
Virgil wasn’t told why they had accommodations, so unless they shared, he never knew. But the truth was, he didn’t need to know. All he needed to do was listen and adapt to them.
He’d had students with ADHD before. Some with accommodations, some without. But it wasn’t until the new year started and he had a student come up to him and explain their accommodations- as well as sharing the fact that they had ADHD- that Virgil realized he didn’t really know what it was.
Sure, he knew what it stood for. But he realized he had never actually looked into what it meant. He had impressions, but he suspected that ADHD ran much deeper than that. Most diagnoses did.
Virgil wanted to do the best for his students, he wanted to support him, he wanted to understand them. He thought it was absolutely necessary to learn more about ADHD, so he began his research.
He was quickly- well not disappointed- but perhaps confused? Yes, that was a better word. Because the main symptoms of ADHD, well didn’t most people deal with those?
Virgil often fidgeted, was easily distracted, sometimes had difficulty focusing on singular things, and more. Virgil himself fit a lot of the criteria for ADHD symptoms and he quickly realized his spouses did as well. So why would this be a separate diagnosis?
Overlap, Virgil quickly realized. ADHD symptoms were officially symptoms of ADHD if they couldn’t be explained by other things. Virgil’s own traits of being easily distracted, fidgeting, trouble holding attention were all symptoms tied to PTSD and anxiety.
Logan fidgeted- stimmed- as well. Logan could talk excessively, intensely focus, and lose focus easily. Which made sense when Virgil learned that autism and ADHD were sibling diagnoses.
Patton was forgetful. But there was a difference between ADHD forgetful and having memory loss. Patton was sometimes disorganized, which could once again be attributed to memory loss.
As Virgi read more about ADHD he quickly realized how each of his spouses had symptoms of it, but all had other root causes for their behavior.
Except Roman.
Roman was easily distracted. He seemed completely blind to the passage of time and fidgeted a lot with bouncing his leg or tapping. He rambled and never seemed to run out of energy. Whenever he perceived failure he took it extremely harshly, feeling as if he himself was a failure- which fit perfectly into an ADHD thing called ‘Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.’ Roman could get extremely passionate about certain topics, but often lost focus with anything else. He had trouble sitting through long events. He occasionally interrupted others without realizing. He was often disorganized, and coffee seemed to calm him down more than wake him up. He forgot lengthy instructions and took longer to start tasks. He couldn’t go shopping without a grocery list and would forget events if they weren’t put on a calendar.
Roman fit almost every symptom for ADHD and it sent Virgil reeling. Because of course Virgil had noticed these traits in his spouse- how could he not, they were a part of Roman- but he had never once considered that these traits could be the result of something more.
Could Roman have ADHD?
Which led to his current predicament of considering that question and in result, thinking about absolutely nothing else.
“What’s up?” Roman asked, when Virgil was trying to grade papers and failing miserably, mind returning to this new question.
Virgil jumped a bit at the noise as Roman took a seat next to him.
“Oh,” Virgil said, “I just…”
Virgil’s mind was racing? Did Roman have ADHD? Should he comment about the ADHD thing to Roman? Would Roman be upset with him if he said anything? Would Roman be upset if he didn’t say anything? And what if Virgil was wrong?
Virgil shrugged, brain too overwhelmed into actually making a decision of what to say. Roman frowned and tapped at the table. Fidgeting, Virgil noticed. Or maybe stimming? He was still trying to figure out if fidgeting due to ADHD was considered stimming.
“Virge?” Roman pressed gently.
Virgil sighed, because he still didn't know what to say, and didn't know what to expect from Roman’s response.
“I’m anxious,” he admitted, because that was a good middle ground. Virgil was communicating even if he wasn’t yet ready to talk.
“Okay,” Roman said, “Anything I can do to help? I may or may not be intentionally avoiding my own work.”
Procrastinating due to struggles with executive functioning. Long or unclear tasks could be hard to manage and complete. All symptoms of ADHD.
Should Virgil say something?
He didn’t know what would happen if he did say anything. He had no idea of Roman’s response and that was terrifying and if Roman was mad, Virgil could get hurt and-
“Just leave me alone,” Virgil snapped. Which was not what he had planned to do. Though Virgil wasn’t really sure what he had planned to do.
“Virgil?” Roman asked. His eyebrows scrunched together and he frowned a bit. His hands settled in front of him.
Virgil instantly felt bad but he was also scared and that was currently winning.
“Leave me alone Roman,” he insisted again, voice low and firm.
Roman continued to frown, but after a minute gave a quick nod.
“Okay,” he said, “If you want, you can come talk to me when you’re ready, okay?”
Virgil said nothing and looked down at the table.
Roman nodded once more and stood up. He was tall, and he was close to Virgil and suddenly he was looming and he was so close and Virgil had just snapped at him and what if he hurt him Roman could so easily hurt him it would be so easy for him to-
Virgil was across the room before he realized what he was doing, back pressed against the wall as he struggled to take a breath, maximum distance between him and Roman.
Roman stared back at him.
“Shit,” Virgil whispered after a moment.
Roman carefully sat on the floor. He was lower than Virgil now, not looming, not a threat.
“Shit,” Virgil said again, brain catching up with him. Kit nudged his hand and Virgil looked down at his dog. Kit pawed at his leg.
Virgil sat on the floor and allowed his dog to cover him. He breathed deeply and ran a hand through his hair.
Roman wasn’t going to hurt him- he was safe. Roman would never hurt him. He was safe.
Roman was still sitting across the room, patiently waiting.
Virgil sighed, sat with his dog, petting his soft fur for a moment. Eventually he had Kit get off and he stood, making his way back to his seat at the table. He gestured at the seat across from him.
“Sit?” he asked Roman.
Roman nodded and carefully stood. With each action he took over to the chair, he narrated it to Virgil and kept in his line of sight. Virgil appreciated that greatly. He knew Roman would never hurt him- of course he wouldn’t- but his mind didn’t always understand that. PTSD sucked like that- it attempted to keep Virgil safe even when there was no threat around. Not anymore.
“Virgil?” Roman asked.
Virgil hesitated for just a moment, and then he blurted out his thoughts.
“I think you might have ADHD,” he admitted.
“What?” Roman asked, frown on his face.
“I think you might have ADHD,” he said slower this time.
Roman blinked at him.
“I’m- you think I have ADHD?” he repeated back, somewhat baffled.
“-activity Disorder,” Roman finished, “Yeah I know what it is. Just- why would you think that? I don’t- I’m not that hyperactive? Sports suck. And I’m not rude or disruptive and stuff. I just- don’t see it,” Roman explained, “but I’m not mad at you and I am willing to listen,” he quickly confirmed.
Roman’s final words came as a relief- stopping short the anxiety that had begun to build as he talked.
“I just- I have a student with ADHD?” Virgil explained, “Well, I’ve had several students with ADHD? And I realized I didn’t actually know much about it, just what I had sorta heard. Like you said- being super active, not sitting still, not listening, disruptive. But I didn’t really know what it was? And I mean- I want to support my students as best as possible so I started to do some research…” Virgil trailed off.
“And?” Roman prompted.
“And to me, it seemed like you fit the diagnostic criteria? You show almost all the symptoms? That I’ve seen,” Virgil hastily added. Then quick because he had to be sure, “You’re not mad at me?”
Roman had said he wasn’t but maybe he just said that and Virgil need to be 100% positive.
“I’m not mad,” Roman promised, “I’m a bit…” he seemed to search for the right word, “I’m a bit… surprised. I don’t think I have ADHD. Don’t most people get diagnosed as kids anyways? I’m an adult this- I dunno Virgil it just doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense.”
“Okay,” Virgil agreed, because he certainly wasn’t going to argue this point with Roman. “Okay. I- okay. Well even if you don’t have it maybe look up RSD? Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria? It just- well it reminded me of a few things you said our freshman year in college? And I mean since that too- but especially then.”
Roman watched Virgil.
“Okay,” he eventually agreed, “Sure, why not?”
Virgil breathed a sigh of relief and the conversation came to an end.
-
Roman did research RSD. He didn’t think he had ADHD which meant he probably didn’t have this thing either. But he told Virgil he’d look it up and he wasn’t about to lie to him, so he did.
He was shocked with what he found because well, didn’t everyone feel that way? Didn’t everyone take criticism personally? Didn’t everyone feel worthless when they perceived rejection? Did other people not feel like a failure when they didn’t do something right or when they let someone down?
Other people had to feel this way. There was no way that Roman had felt like this his entire life and most other people didn’t. It just- it wasn’t possible. Somebody would have noticed. He would have noticed.
“Patton?” Roman asked.
“Hmm?” Pat said, looking up from his computer.
Roman hesitated. Was he really going to-
“Have you ever heard of RSD?”
Apparently he was going to ask. Thanks brain for considering that fully.
“No,” Patton said, “Why?”
Roman hesitated for less than he did before, and began to explain. Patton listened and asked for a few repeats and clarifiers along the way.
“Okay so- my other question is… Do you do that?”
“Do I have RSD?” Patton asked.
“Yeah,” Roman said. Because everyone- everyone did. They had to.
Patton frowned and then softly shook his head.
“I don’t think so,” he said, “I mean, I can feel bad when I do things wrong. And if it’s a big thing I’m going to feel worse. But I guess- I mean I don’t feel like I’ve been rejected or that I’m a failure or that people don’t like me. I just think I made a mistake. Which can suck but it doesn’t mean that I’m a bad person or anything.”
“Oh,” Roman said. This was- this was- well what Patton said made sense. What Patton thought made sense. The thing was- the thing was that Roman didn’t do that.
“Why are you asking, love?” Patton asked.
Roman shook his head.
“No reason,” he insisted quickly, as he already turned back to his phone. He could feel Patton stare at him for a moment, slight frown on his face. But eventually, he shrugged and turned back to his computer. Roman just took a breath and started his newest google search.
Roman didn’t have ADHD.
But well- it wouldn’t hurt to look it up.
-
“Hey Dad,” Roman greeted, the minute his dad had picked up the phone.
“Roman,” he greeted cheerfully. Roman smiled at his voice. “What’s going on?”
Roman’s smile slowly dropped. He drummed his fingers nervously on his pants leg.
“I had a question,” he acknowledged.
“Alright. Shoot.”
Roman hesitated.
“Roman?”
“It’s kind of a weird question?” Roman hedged.
“Roman I raised you for most of your life, I’m pretty sure I'm used to your questions by now,” he said wryly.
Roman gave a short half-hearted chuckle.
“Okay,” he relented, “I was just wondering… Was I ever tested for ADHD as a kid?”
His dad went quiet. Roman started to regret calling. Really, why was he even doing this? He didn’t- he wasn’t- a google search of symptoms didn’t prove anything. Sure, maybe they had all fit but that didn’t mean-
“No. You weren't.” A pause. “Can I ask why?”
He had to know why Roman would be asking that.
“I-” Roman hesitated, “I just-”
“Do you want to get tested?” his dad asked.
“No,” Roman responded immediately, without even thinking about it. Impulsive, his brain whispered at him, a symptom of ADHD, “No. I just- I…” he trailed off.
“Okay. Well, if you did ever want to get tested. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that. You know that, right?”
“Right,” Roman responded automatically, not really hearing his words. “I uh- I actually have to go. I’ll call some other time.”
Logan walked into the room at that moment, giving a smile when he saw Roman. Roman attempted to return it. Logan made his way to the bookshelf, looking for something.
“Okay,” his dad agreed, “Okay.”
“Okay, bye,” Roman rushed to say.
“Roman?” his dad's voice interrupted.
“Yeah?”
Logan pulled a book out of the shelf. He held it in one hand, the other hand coming up to quickly brush all the pages, flicking through them quickly. He continued to stim that way repetitively.
“I love you..”
“Yeah Dad, yeah I know.”
“I love you. For you. Okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I love you too.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
Roman brought his phone away from his ear and put it in his pocket. He walked over to where Logan was still stimming with the book.
“Hey,” Roman greeted.
Logan smiled up at him.
“Can I touch you,” Roman asked.
Logan nodded in consent and Roman wrapped him up from behind. He pressed a kiss into the back of Logan’s head and closed his eyes for a moment as he enjoyed holding his husband.
“Were you waiting for me?” Roman asked, “You didn’t move once you found your book.”
Logan ducked his head.
“Oh, no,” he said, “I was going to read the book. But I found stimming with the pages enjoyable.”
“Mmmm,” Roman hummed.
“You were calling your dad,” Logan observed.
“Yup,” Roman said, “Had to ask him a question.”
“What question? And why not text?” Logan asked. He carefully broke free of Roman’s embrace to face him.
Roman sighed.
“I- uh- I asked him if I had been tested for ADHD as a child,” he admitted.
“Oh,” Logan said. He frowned and shifted on his feet. He continued to stim with the book, “Why did you ask him that?”
“Virgil said- Well Virgil said he thought I might have ADHD. I guess I was just-” Roman waved his hand as if to explain, “y’know?”
“I don’t actually,” Logan admitted, “I’m not sure what you're saying. Can you clarify?”
Roman nodded and tried to figure out the words he wanted.
“I guess I’m just- I wanted to see- I’m trying to figure out- Maybe I do? Maybe I do have ADHD. And I’m trying to figure that out.”
“Okay,” Logan said, “Thanks for clarifying.”
“Not a problem,” Roman was quick to assure. “I’m just- well what do you think?”
“About?”
“Do you think I have ADHD?”
Logan paused, thinking. He stopped stimming with the book and instead raised a hand to tap at his chest.
“You could,” he considered, “I can see why Virgil would think that. I’d have to do more research on ADHD. And your thoughts and observations are vitally important to the discussion as well. I would think that would be the most important piece by far.”
“Yeah,” Roman sighed, “I think… I think I might have it?” he admitted. “A lot of the symptoms fit and it’s just- like a lot of things make sense looking back with ADHD on mind? Like when me and Virgil weren’t getting along when we first met. And when I struggled to take over as director. And as a kid when I struggled in school because I couldn’t focus on the material. Also in school as a kid when I was quickly drawn to theater and it was so much looser and I’d get so focused on it. Time is weird? It can pass so quickly but also super slow and I’m awful at estimating it and that’s apparently an actual ADHD thing called time blindness. Coffee calms me down more than waking me up. How I could never seem to keep my room clean as a kid. I just…” Roman trailed off, and then laughed slightly. “The rambling too,” he added.
Logan quirked a smile at that.
“You do talk a lot,” Logan said.
“Yeah.”
Logan paused for a moment, shifting and looking around the room. He frowned and dipped his head down.
“I’m not sure how to progress this conversation,” he admitted.
“Honestly neither do I,” Roman admitted, “I don’t- I don’t really know where to go from here at all. I have ADHD, but what does that mean?”
Logan’s head jerked up, eyes settling on Roman’s forehead.
“You said you had ADHD,” Logan said.
Roman slowly nodded.
“Well yeah, I mean that’s what we’re talking about? So…”
“You didn’t say that before,” Logan continued, “You said you might have ADHD. You asked me if I thought you had it. You said Virgil thought you had it. But you now just said that you did have it.”
“I…” Roman tried to find the right words. He hadn’t even noticed the change in his wording. But Logan was quick to pick up on things like that and bring them to light. And Logan was right, that was a change. A significant change. What did it mean?
“Does it click?” Logan asked.
“What?” Roman asked.
“Does it…” Logan huffed and cast his gaze downward. Roman waited. “I’m trying to figure out how to explain,” Logan said.
“Okay,” Roman acknowledged, and waited some more.
“Does it… Inside you- when you hear the words ADHD, look at the diagnosis, see the symptoms. Is there something in you that…” Logan pressed a firm hand against his chest and close to his heart, once again lost for words. He did it again, and Roman understood.
“Yes,” Roman said, “Yes. It resonates. Is that a good word for it?”
“Yes. That exactly. It resonates,” Logan agreed. “Does it?”
“Yeah. Yeah it does,” Roman admitted.
“Well then,” Logan shrugged, “Do you need more than that?”
“I- a diagnosis?” Roman tried, “I need to be diagnosed.”
“Do you?” Logan asked, “I mean- if you want to search for a diagnosis I of course support that decision and I'm sure our husbands would as well. But do you need that to know you have ADHD?”
Roman shifted, and considered. Because he knew now. He knew. He had ADHD. It made so much sense, it clicked, it resonated. It was a part of him and so many things had explanations now. So much of his behavior began to make sense.
He knew without a diagnosis. But…
“If I don’t get a diagnosis isn’t that kind of faking?” Roman asked.
“No,” Logan, “I think a diagnosis is just physical proof of your experiences. It doesn’t change anything. But if it’s something you want or need, again I will support you with that, whatever the reason for wanting it. I just want to make sure you understand that a diagnosis isn’t going to change things. Either way you have ADHD.”
“I… I’m not sure?”
“About?”
“If I want a diagnosis or not.”
Logan shrugged.
“Okay. Well you don’t need to know right away.”
Roman nodded, relieved. It was already a lot. This was a lot. He was figuring out and learning a lot and his brain was tired. Did that make sense? He didn’t know if his thoughts made sense anymore.
“Yeah. Thanks Logan,” Roman said.
Logan gave him a warm smile and grasped his hand briefly before taking his book and leaving the room.
-
“Like I know I have it now, but what do I do?” Roman complained, pacing across the floor, “What does it mean?”
“I think it means whatever you want it to sweetheart,” Patton told him, from where he was lying on his stomach on the bed, heating pad on his back.
“What does that mean?” Roman whined some more.
Patton shook his head fondly at his spouse. Roman just continued to pace, muttering as he did so.
“Does this make things different now?” he asked, a hint of something new in his voice.
Patton looked up. He raised himself carefully on an elbow and turned to look at Roman, wincing as he did so.
“What do you mean?” he asked, carefully soft.
“Like does this- does it change things?”
“I think it could,” Patton admitted, “But I don’t think in the ways you’re expecting.”
Roman stopped facing and turned to face Patton directly.
“What? How?”
“Well… I mean you haven’t changed love. You know you have ADHD now but you haven’t changed. I think the things that could change would potentially be some coping skills and ways of getting things done. But you aren’t going to change, some things we might adapt to work with you better.”
Work with him better? Why did they need to change things?
“What do you mean?” Roman asked, now frowning, “I cope fine?”
“I do think you’re doing well,” Patton agreed, “But if you’d like I’m certain we can change some things to work with you better. Cooking for one.”
“Cooking?”
What did cooking have to do with ADHD?
“Yeah. You’re okay in the kitchen but often not alone because you tend to mess up the recipes slightly or don’t watch the time. I’m guessing you get distracted.”
Roman stood stock still.
How had he never realized that? That was exactly it. When Roman cooked his mind tended to wander, not sticking to the task. It’s why he usually cooked with others, so they could keep him on task.
“I- oh. I never realized that before.”
Roman sat on the edge of the bed carefully so it wouldn’t shift too much. His back was to Patton.
Did Patton want him to be better in the kitchen? He wasn’t terrible but he certainly wasn’t good. But wasn’t that the same as letting his husbands down? He was letting them down because he wasn’t good at simple things like cooking. He was starting to not like this whole ADHD thing.
“Mhmm. And when you get hard on yourself- the uh- the- you told me the name? But I forgot it. But when you get really hard on yourself. We can come up with coping skills with that. I mean we have a bit already, but we can work with communicating more as well as helping validate you.”
“Communicate more?”
Roman turned to face Patton, swinging one of his legs onto the bed.
“Mhmm,” Pat agreed, carefully taking one of his hands.
Roman wasn’t good in the kitchen. Which was pretty much the same as bad. He was letting down- no failing- his husbands.
“Okay. Uh, well. I’m feeling sorta bad about the kitchen thing.”
“What about the kitchen thing?” Patton asked as he rubbed small circles with his thumb on the back of Roman’s hand.
Gosh Roman did not want to explain. Especially after learning that not everyone did this. Roman was just such a failure letting his husbands down.
“I feel like- I’m letting you down? With cooking? And that’s kinda spiraling to letting you down in general? That I’ve failed as a spouse?” Roman shared.
“Oh honey,” Patton said, “Okay that’s valid, you feeling like you letting us down is very valid, you’re allowed to feel that way. But you are absolutely not letting us down one bit. Even if you stopped cooking all together, you wouldn’t be letting us down. All we need from you is you. That’s it.”
“Yeah but- I make more work for the rest of you.”
Roman sighed and leaned against the headrest of the bed.
“I can’t cook alone,” Patton reminded, “Is that a problem?”
“Of course not!” Roman was quick to insist.
“Okay. Well why is it different for you?”
“It’s just- It’s-”
Roman should be able to control this. This wasn’t something he should struggle with. He was invalid, incapable, a disappointment.
“It’s how your brain works Roman, that’s just how it is. That’s okay. All I’m saying is that if you want, I’m sure we can come up with some better ways to support you. You don’t- Roman we love you for you. Whatever that means. You haven’t failed us or yourself.”
Roman felt like he had. But maybe Patton was right. Because- because this was just the RSD wasn’t it? It was his brain working differently, telling him he was bad and a failure when really he isn’t. He isn’t.
It was hard to believe and it was hard to fight but it was easier now that Roman had a word for it.
“Okay. Yeah,” Roman said.
“There’s also medications for ADHD if you feel like some of the symptoms are greatly impacting your daily functioning.”
“I think it does impact me,” Roman admitted, “Like a lot? But not to a point where I’m not able to function or struggle to function. So for now I think I’m going to table meds, but keep my mind open.”
“Okay,” Patton agreed easily, “Of course. We’re here to support you.”
Roman smiled down at him, and Patton pressed a kiss into his hand.
“Need anything from me?” Roman asked after a minute. Patton looked up at him with a soft smile, but the pain he was in was clear in his eyes.
“Lay with me?” Patton asked, “Just careful please.”
“Of course,” Roman agreed, and slowly made his way to do so.
-
“Ughhhhh,” Roman groaned, flopping straight onto the couch as he entered the room.
Virgil snorted from his position in a chair next to the couch.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Roman whined.
“Sorry, sorry,” Virgil said, most certainly still laughing. “Bad day at work?”
“Mm. Kinda? Not really? Ugh I dunno. I’m done thinking.”
Roman took this opportunity to smoosh his face into a pillow and groan even louder.
“Pretty sure if you're done thinking that means you’re dead,” Virgil remarked around his groans.
“Ughhhhhhhhh. But thinking is exhausting.”
Kit came to investigate him at that moment, pawing and poking with his nose and a wagging tail. He brought over a toy and dropped it onto Roman as he continued to bug him.
“Ugh you’re so cute,” Roman said. He lifted his head slightly and gave Kit a few pets and ear scratches. “Good boy.”
Kit perked up at the words and his tail wagged even harder.
“Right. Ugh. So I’ve been thinking about getting an ADHD diagnosis.”
“Okay,” Virgil said, because this wasn’t news. Roman had mentioned it earlier that week, that he had ADHD and was now considering getting a diagnosis for it. Everyone had taken it in stride and worked on supporting him.
“Yeah but of course that meant that’s all I could think about today. Which means I couldn’t focus on anything. Which I’m now learning is an ADHD thing. Weird. Oh! But what I was saying was- I can’t decide.”
“If you want a diagnosis?”
“Yup!” Roman agreed, popping up and sitting to face Virgil. “Like- I don’t know if it’s something I need? Like I know I have ADHD so why do I need proof? But also getting a diagnosis could be validating? And there’s so many other pros and cons and I don’t know how to choose.”
“Oh. I bet that’s frustrating.”
“It is,” Roman groaned.
Virgil typed a bit on his computer before looking back over to Roman.
“Hey Roman, wanna know something?” he said.
“What?”
“Indecisiveness is also a symptom of ADHD.”
There was a pause before Roman dramatically buried his face back into the couch cushions and screamed.
“Oh fuck me!” Roman exclaimed, “Fucking everything’s going to be a symptom of ADHD at this rate.”
He’d figure out this whole diagnosis thing another day. (Or maybe not. Who knew anymore? At least he figured out he had ADHD, that was a solid enough of a starting point). But for now, screaming into a couch would have to satisfy him.
Family traditions are something Virgil’s never really had in a good way before. He had traditions- rituals- in his life once. But they weren’t the good kind. After, well his father had tried and they did have small traditions. But for the most part, Virgil never had that chance, never had the chance to create small little traditions with his family.
Family traditions are something Virgil’s never really had in a good way before. He had traditions- rituals- in his life once. But they weren’t the good kind. After, well his father had tried and they did have small traditions. But for the most part, Virgil never had that chance, never had the chance to create small little traditions with his family.
And now he does. He has that chance.
Warnings:
[ao3 link]
~~~
Funnel- Chapter Two
It’s Kit who sees the pony first, just as they finally escape from the maze. His ears go on end and his nose points towards it, attention singularly focused on the mysterious animal.
“Kit,” Roman chides, not realizing yet what had caught his attention.
Kit turns back to Roman, focus waving between him and the pony, obviously wanting to behave but being distracted by the new animal and scents.
“He sees the pony,” Virgil comments, following Kit’s line of sight.
Roman turns, and his eyes light up.
“He hasn’t seen a pony before,” Logan notes from next to them. Virgil nods, and they walk towards the small animal pens.
Kit goes with them, enthusiastic but cautious. His ears are pricked up and his nose is sniffing like crazy, trying to decipher all the smells.
When they reach the fence, Kit goes right up to it, sniffing at the pony. The pony looks down at him in equal interest and leans down to meet Kit. The pony gives a wide snort, nostrils flaring, and Kit darts back a few paces before cautiously coming forward. He reaches through the fence and wacks the pony’s nose.
“Kit!” Virgil says unsure whether to laugh or admonish the pup. The pony sees fine and there’s no harm done, but Kit also can’t go around batting animals. Though to be fair, the pony is also something he has never seen before.
Virgil just settles for shaking his head, not bothering to correct it unless it happens again. He’ll keep an eye out, that’s enough for now.
“Look, there’s ducklings,” Patton says, pointing over to one of the enclosures. The follow his lead to the new fenced off area where a few ducks and numerous ducklings lie. Starting there, they go down the line, cooing at all the animals that are particularly cute. They get to the pigs later, and Logan reads out the names for them on the plaque.
Virgil doesn’t pay much attention, eyes locked on the critters, but the last name makes him pause.
“Wait what did you say the pig was named?” Virgil asked.
“Waddles,” Logan said.
“That’s from a thing. I don’t know what thing. But it’s from a thing. What’s it from?”
His spouses give him shrugs so Virgil pulls out his phone to check. He knows it’s from something, and it’ll bug him all day if he doesn't check now.
“Gravity Falls,” he says outloud, “It’s from Gravity Falls.”
“Oh yeah!” Patton says, “Yeah it’s Mabel’s pig.”
“Who’s Mabel?” Virgil asks.
“You know Waddles but not Mabel?”
“No,” Virgil shakes his head and tries to figure it out, “Like- I recognize both names. But I don’t know from what.”
He searches up Mabel from Gravity Falls, and he suddenly knows where he’s seen the cute animation style before.
“Picani,” he realizes, “Picani has a poster in his office.”
Well- Picani has many posters in his office. But there’s definitely a Gravity Falls one now that Virgil thinks about it. With a boy and a girl in the center with a pig and somewhere in the background there’s a floating triangle with an eye. Oh and a weird uncle.
“Hmm,” Patton hums, “We should watch it. It’s a good show. Cute. About these two twins who go spend the summer with their great uncle where a bunch of weird supernatural stuff happens. I think there would definitely be triggers for you though. We can check ‘Does the Dog Die?.’”
“Oh I think my sister’s seen this show!” Roman chimes in, “Wait is one of the twins trans? I’m like 90% sure she said one of them was trans. Or both. Was it both?”
“...Technically neither of them are trans?” Patton admits, “But they’re both trans now. Because I’m trans and I say so.”
“Valid,” Virgil says.
He’s quickly followed by Roman’s, “Mood.”
“Did Esther like the show?” Logan asks.
“Hmm? Oh uh- I think so?” Roman replies, face scrunching up into an adorable frown, “I can ask.”
“Is there actually any queer representation in it?”
“I think so,” Patton says, “There was something and I know it was a big deal but I don’t remember exactly.”
Logan hums and turns back to the pigs.
“Which one’s Waddles?” Logan asks.
“I think that one?” Roman says, pointing at the one in the far corner. “It has the same spots as the picture.”
Logan nods, and they stare at the pigs a bit longer before moving on.
The goats are last and by far the most fun. They seemed to almost play with each other, bleating and jumping around. They also engage in a bit of staring and bouncing with Kit and Trixie. The goats seem fascinated and entertained by the pups, and the pups seem equally fascinated and entertained in return.
In fact, they got so caught up in watching the goats and dogs tease each other, that they completely missed the last goat.
“Ow!” Roman yelps, falling back from the fence.
“What?!” Virgil responds instantly, narrowing in on Roman for any signs of harm or injury.
“It bit me!” Roman complains loudly.
“What?”
“The goat! It bit me!”
“Are you okay?” Virgil presses, still worried.
“Oh yeah I’m fine,” Roman easily dismisses. “But hey! It bit me! And it chewed through my jeans!”
He turns to face the tree of them, pointing out the chewed away fabric near his knee.
Patton stifles a giggle, leaning into Virgil’s side at the sight as Roman continues to look highly offended.
Roman ignores them, and instead struts right back over to the goats.
“That wasn’t nice,” he says directly to the goat that bit him, “That wasn’t nice at all. You’re mean.”
“The goat doesn’t understand you,” Logan inputs, “In addition I very much doubt it has the capacity to consciously make a choice to be mean or unkind or to feel similar complex emotions and intend to perform actions that follow through with those complex emotions. But I’m unsure. I don’t know much about goats. But it is a goat Roman.”
“I don’t care!” Roman says loudly.
Logan shrinks ever so minutely. Roman still isn’t facing them.
“I don’t care,” Roman repeats, and carries on, “Your goat facts are very interesting Logan, thanks for sharing.” Logan straightens a bit, and bounces on his toes. “But I’m human and I’m going to project my goddamn emotions on these evil goats if I so please.”
Patton continues to snort into Virgil’s side. Virgil wraps an arm around him and watches the entertaining interaction.
“As long as you’re aware that you’re projecting your emotions onto the goat,” Logan supports.
“Heck yeah. They’re mean goats. I’m doing the healthy anger projection thing. What’s that called?”
“You’re generally discouraged from projecting in therapy,” Patton adds, the same time Virgil adds, “Equine Therapy.”
“Oh yeah, animal-assisted therapies are a good example,” Patton agrees, “Cause sometimes we need to project. But projecting onto actual people can hurt them and hurt our relationships with them. Projecting onto animals can create a healthy release for certain emotions when done in a proper setting. Equine therapy is a great example of that.”
Roman nods, still glaring at the tiny goat in front of him.
“I’m calling this mad-at-goats therapy,” he declares, before giving one last piercing stare at the ‘evil’ goat, before his face softens. “He’s kinda cute though. Now I feel bad for him. I’m sorry goat.” He reaches his hand back over the fence and the goat sniffs it gently. “Hey can we get a pet goat?”
A quick flip from hating goats to loving them isn’t exactly something Virgil would expect from most people, but from Roman it’s hardly a surprise.
“I’m vetoing goats,” Virgil informs him.
Roman grumbles, faux annoyed.
“We all agreed when moving in with Virgil that he got veto rights on any pets,” Logan mentions at Roman’s grumbling.
At the comment, Roman finally turns back to face them at all.
“I know,” Roman says, “I was teasing. I don’t actually want a goat, and I’m not mad at Virgil for vetoing the goat even if I did want one. It was very kind of you to gently but firmly remind me of a preestablished agreement we had come to.”
Roman rejoins them, and they continue to stand in eyesight of the goat enclosure, while still being out of reach and out of the way of all the other people who want to check them out.
“Oh. Okay. I don’t want a goat either. I suspect they would need exercise, but seem very difficult to walk,” Logan muses.
They all glance over at the leaping animals.
“Yeah,” Virgil agrees, “We can barely manage a puppy as is.”
Patton gasps.
“Don’t talk about my son that way!” Patton insists, glancing down at Kit at his feet. He looks back at Virgil. “Can you pick him up for me?” Virgil nods and reaches down to pick up the small pup before trading the puppy for Patton’s cane so Patton can hold his small body in two hands.
“Don’t listen to them Kit,” Patton coos, “They’re just mean. You’re a lovely perfect darling who could never do anything wrong.”
“Hey! I thought I was the lovely perfect darling who could never do anything wrong!” Roman protests.
“No love. You’re the darling who decides it’s a smart idea to stand up on your desk during college to debate with a classmate and then fall off it and get a concussion.”
“Okay, that was once!” Roman argues, “And come on, it’s not fair using that against me twice in one day.”
Patton’s eyebrows knit together.
“I mentioned that earlier?”
The sentence is much more of a question than a statement.
“Yeah. I almost fell off the hay bales in the corn maze,” Roman reminds.
“Ah right,” Patton nods, “I remember the hay bales You almost fell off?”
“I mean yes but nope. Completely fine. No near falls or misses or anything like that. But yes I almost fell.”
“He almost face planted,” Virgil supports.
“But I didn’t!” Roman says, voice rising at the end.
“You need to be more careful,” Patton chides. A shifts on his feet a bit and grimances slightly, “We don’t need someone splitting open their head at the pumpkin patch.”
A searing picture burns through Virgil’s mind. One of human skull and brain matter. Of blood and bones and-
Trixie presses against his leg. Virgil shakes the past from his mind and takes an even breath.
“Virge?”
“Hm?” Virgil responds, turning his gaze back to Patton as Trixie stays at his side. Patton watches him carefully.
Patton nods and shifts again. Kit squirms lightly in his hands.
“Want to trade back?” Patton asks, nodding at his cane.
They switch again, and Kit gets transferred to Roman’s arms after Virgil instead of back to the ground. Roman holds him close and gives small cooing noises as Kit squirms enthusiastically at the attention.
“Can we sit?” Patton asks, “My hip’s hurting.”
The group quickly agrees and they find an open bench nearby. They take a minute, just sitting, taking in the scenery. The pumpkin patch is large, and the actual pumpkin patch part of the pumpkin patch is even larger. The fields stretch off into one direction, quite a few people wandering around them to pick their own pumpkins.
“We should get funnel cake,” Roman says abruptly.
“Oh yes.”
“I’ve actually never had funnel cake,” Virgil admits.
“What?” Roman says, whipping to catch Virgil’s gaze and mouth hanging slightly opened, “You’ve never had funnel cake? Ever?”
Virgil’s told his spouses a lot of weird, fucked up things over the years. But of course this simple detail about a dessert he has yet to try would be one of the things that managed to shock Roman completely.
“We didn’t exactly get dessert in a doomsday cult,” Virgil explains, voice light.
“Okay, first off, you weren’t in a doomsday cult just fucked up weird religious shit. Second of all, You had what…” Roman takes a moment to fumble over the dates, “fifteen-ish years since then. And you still haven’t had funnel cake.”
Of course Roman’s going to focus on the funnel cake.
Virgil shrugs in response.
“Unacceptable, we’re definitely going to get funnel cake now. You have to try it.”
“Don’t make him try it,” Logan immediately jumps in.
Roman turns to him, seemingly a bit lost for words.
“...Why not?”
Logan taps his foot on the ground. Patton reaches up to settle a hand on his shoulder before thinking better and dropping it.
“It should be Virgil’s choice. Don’t make him.”
Logan’s gaze is downcast and his hands wring together in what Virgil knows is an anxious stim. Roman seems to recognize the stim for what it is as well, and his face and body relax.
“Oh of course,” Roman agrees, switching from light teasing to pure honesty, “Sorry I was probably a bit unclear. I meant that I suggest Virgil tries it, and I encourage him to, but if he really doesn’t want to, I’m not going to force him.”
Logan nods, but frowns. He starts rocking slightly.
“Lo? You alright?” Virgil asks.
“I think-” Logan hesitates, “I think I’m overstimulated. I feel- not bad… but not good. It’s- static, but not static? Buzzing perhaps. I think I’ll stay with Patton if you’re going to get funnel cake.”
“Would you like a firm hug? For a pressure stim? Or touching in a different way?” Patton asks.
“Don’t touch me,” Logan responds immediately.
Patton nods, and listens.
“Apologies,” Logan says after a minute, “That was rude. I meant-”
Logan doesn’t finish and scrunches his shoulders in towards his body, face still downcast.
“Are words hard right now Logan?”
Logan hesitates before nodding.
“Okay,” Patton replies, “Well I don’t need an apology. I think ‘don’t touch me’ is a perfectly fine way of communicating you wouldn’t like touch. It was direct, and some people may take it as rude, but I know that wasn’t your intention and that communicating is hard right. It was a fine way to say that.”
“Okay,” Logan agrees.
“Do we still want funnel cake?” Roman asks for a moment, looking at the group.
Virgil considers, “Yeah why not try it?”
“Heck yes,” Roman says, “that’s the type of attitude I like.”
Roman pulls Virgil away to go get funnel cake, giving Patton and Logan a bit of space in the meantime. It seems to help somewhat, because when the return with treat in hand, Logan looks much calmer and less overwhelmed.
Roman presents the funnel cake dramatically, causing Patton to giggle and Virgil to elbow him gently. They pass around forks and dig in.
Virgil has to admit it’s not half bad. He wouldn’t want it every day- the flavor and taste being much too overwhelming for everyday consumption. But the treat seems to fit in perfectly with today, and Virgil can appreciate that. Some foods are just made for certain occasions. Like latkes during Hanukkah.
They finish the treat, throwing away the trash before settling on a bench all together to make a decision on their next move.
“Pumpkins?” Patton asks.
There’s no objections, and as such, they all start moving towards the field of orange.
Heyyy. For your oneshot thing, could you give us some Logan angst please??? Love you babey ~@justgr8
Summary:
Tradition has always been vitally important to Logan. Routine keeps him balanced and feeling safe. But tradition can change. When treated carefully, and with communication, change to tradition can be navigated. It’s too bad that Logan’s family isn’t willing to put in that effort.
-
Or: Logan’s autistic. His family likes to ignore this fact.
It was Logan’s freshman year of high school when he realized that this was going to be the last time his family did advent box. It hit him hard, a striking dull pain in the middle of his stomach.
When he thought of Christmas, Logan didn’t just think of Christmas. No, Logan thought of each of the little traditions that followed the season. They had always been of importance to Logan. His family did them every year. It was tradition, it was routine, and Logan couldn’t break that. Or he couldn’t break it without having a meltdown, usually more than one.
But as he and his sister had gotten older, most of the traditions had faded or bled away without much care and no one has seemed bothered by it. Accept Logan.
Advent box is one of the few things they had kept.
Every day, in the evening, they opened the box. It contained a chocolate or a small toy or something of equal value. It was silly and somewhat pointless and Logan didn’t quite get why he cared. But he did. He cared so much.
Which is why this year had to be perfect.
Veera was going off to college next year. Logan and her have always traded off days opening the box. Maybe they could continue when she was gone, with just Logan opening until she got back from break and then they could open them together?
Logan had thought about solutions and work-arounds and how to continue forward, but he doubted his parents would see it the same. So he tested his theory.
Off hand he mentioned something about advent box next year and then he watched for the signs.
His mom wouldn’t look at him. Odd, because she was always trying to get him to meet her eyes. She chuckled and gave him a non answer. Also odd because it was a simple remark that Logan had made. His father had patted him on the shoulder (which Logan didn’t like but was normal behavior from him) and then he had said “we’ll see,” which also didn’t make sense considering Logan hadn’t actually asked a question, just made a comment. It didn’t line up and Logan knew they were lying.
Or not lying exactly, but he gathered that it was very likely they would not be doing advent box next year. Hence the stabbing feeling in his stomach and also why this year had to be perfect.
Not all the boxes were opened on the right days. Logan thought that this would have bothered him if it wasn’t also routine for his family to forget or get busy on some nights. But three days leading up to Christmas (the last day on the box) and they had six days to make up for. Which was a lot.
They decided to do it now, right now, as Logan was preparing himself breakfast in the morning. They usually did it in the evening and if he thought about that too much his hands start itching. Logan’s parents- who were also in the kitchen- insisted that he called down Veera. Logan gulped but nodded. It needed to be perfect and sure it was morning which wasn’t Right, but it was also Logan’s first weekday off from school and routine was already thrown to hell so what was one more thing?
Plus if they didn’t do it now they’d probably forget and they wouldn't do it tonight and then they’d fall more behind and wouldn’t get it done by Christmas. And true, why they had fallen behind before they had never actually failed to complete it. The burning sense of that Wrongness beat out the Wrongness of doing it in the morning, so Logan rushed over to the foot of the stairs.
“Veera!” he called up towards her, “Veera! Advent box!”
She didn’t respond. He frowned and tried again. Still no response.
He turned back to face the kitchen.
“Is Veera here?” he asked his parents.
“Yeah, and Caleb too,” his dad replied.
Logan frowned and called again. They’re was once more no response, though he could see the cracked door so if they were there they should be able to hear him. He looked over at the front door and checked the shoes. Caleb’s converse were there. (He had bigger feet than Logan and Veera and Logan’s parents didn’t wear converse so they were easy to distinguish).
He was about to shout once more when Caleb exited the room.
“Hey Logan,” he greeted, making eye-contact with Logan.
Logan looked down immediately and nodded.
“Hey,” Logan replied, “Veera coming?”
“Yeah, she’s trying to do this thing with her hair.”
“Okay,” Logan left the foot of the stairs and returned to the kitchen, leaving his sister’s boyfriend. Once he had entered the kitchen, he made his way to the advent box. It was an odd number day. That meant it was his turn today.
He was vaguely aware of Caleb and his parents moving to join him around the box as he counted out everyday and tried to remember what had been in each box previous.
When he finished he turned to face them. Still no Veera.
“It’s your day Logan,” his mother said, “Why don’t you open it?”
“I know it’s my day, it’s an odd day,” Logan said, “And I’m waiting for Veera, we can’t start without her.”
Everyone had to be there for advent box. It was a rule.
“Logan why don’t you just-”
Logan’s mother was cut off by his sister appearing in the kitchen and sliding over to join them.
“I’m opening it,” he announced, to make sure he had everyone’s attention. He opened it to reveal a paper. The paper had a brand name on it, which meant that it was a toy, but had been too big to fit in the box. He held up the paper expectantly towards his mom, but didn’t turn to face her.
“There’s a paper.”
He saw her nod out of peripheral vision and she turned to get whatever the toy was. She handed the bag over to Logan first. That was also tradition. Logan was the one who had opened the door so he got first pick. Whoever opened the door got to choose first. It was a rule.
Logan peered inside to see sticky hands. He wondered briefly how they had not fit, considering they were quite small. They should have been able to fit in the box. He picked at one and realized it was due to the packaging. It was unnecessarily large, and his mom probably hadn’t wanted to unpack them for fear of losing their stickiness.
“What is it Logan?” his sister asked, and Logan recognized the impatience at her voice.
Still considering the packaging dilemma, Logan held one up to show her.
“Oh cool,” she said.
Logan thought that was funny. Usually she’d make fun of childish stuff like this. But advent box always had this sort of stuff and it was also tradition to not care how silly it was. It was sort of backwards but it also meant that his family wouldn’t be mean to him about liking childish things, so Logan was okay with it.
He laughed a bit though, because it was funny.
His sister scowled at him and snatched the bag from him. He let her. It didn’t matter anymore. He had his sticky hand. She passed the bag around as he slowly unwrapped his own. It plopped into his hand and it felt horrible. Logan immediately dropped it.
“Logan, don’t let it fall on the floor, it’ll get dirt on it,” his mother chided.
Logan struggled to process her words for a minute. His hands still felt gross. He wanted to move them, to get the feeling off. He wasn’t supposed to flap them though. But maybe just once? It wasn’t like he was flapping them for a bad reason, he just wanted to get the sticky feeling off of it.
He flapped the hand that it had touched and then slid the hand against his pants, hoping his parents wouldn’t notice. He thought his mom was maybe watching him, so he put his hand in his pocket. With his other he was forced to pick up the sticky hand again. His mom had told him to, and she wouldn’t take nicely to Logan ignoring or refusing her.
So he picked it up, holding it as lightly as he could with the least amount of his skin touching it. He tried not to wince. His mom turned away and unwrapped her own sticky hand.
In response, Veera shot her sticky hand towards her mom. Mom threw hers at Veera in return and then chaos broke loose. The four other members in the house started darting around the kitchen trying to hit each other with the sticky hands. Logan watched them and rocked forward on his feet.
Even Caleb- who was still hesitant to join in a lot of the family interactions- was participating. A moment later they died down a bit and came back over to the advent box, still flinging their hands gently at one another.
Then Veera flung hers at Logan.
It hit his clothes thankfully. Logan didn’t know what he’d do if it hit his skin. Probably scream, and he didn’t think his family would like that very much. He grinned a bit, because Veera seemed to be playful and it wasn’t all that common that she was nice to him. In fact, usually she was quite mean, snapping at him and making rude comments. His parents said that it was college stress and Logan was over exaggerating. Sometimes they even said it was Logan’s fault.
But she seemed happy now. Logan, not wanting to miss out on the rare opportunity, flung his sticky hand back.
It hit Veera’s hair.
She immediately screeched and wrenched away.
“Logan!” she said, “You’re going to mess up my hair! Don’t do that!”
Logan shrugged and turned to hit Caleb instead. Caleb was looking at him and didn’t react to the sticky hand. Logan frowned and looked back over to his sister. She was glaring at him and desperately messing with her hair.
“Oh, I’m really sorry Veera,” he said, “I didn’t mean to mess up your hair. I won’t do it again.”
She continued to glare and Logan realized his parents were too. He couldn’t help but feel he did something very wrong. He set the hand down. He didn’t think his mom would complain if he chose not to participate andymore.
Caleb kissed Veera’s cheek and whispered in her ear. She sighed and continued to scowl, but stopped messing with her hair. She seemed okay now. Logan thought so at least.
“It’s your turn to open advent box,” he said.
“Logan you can’t just hit people in the face.”
Logan knew that. Of course he knew that. It’s not like he had been trying to. Plus he had hit her hair anyway. He got that that wasn’t okay, but he hadn’t meant to.
“Everyone was throwing the hands around,” Logan said in an attempt to explain. Everyone was throwing them around. They weren’t very accurate. One was bound to hit someone in the face eventually. It just happened to Veera by Logan’s hand. It wasn’t on purpose and Logan knew it wasn’t okay. He had apologized. “It’s your turn to open up advent box.”
Veera scowled and pushed forward, opening the box. It was chocolate in it. Logan quietly took one from her when she offered them forward. He unwrapped it and ate it and watched the others around him do so as well.
Logan still hadn’t eaten breakfast. He was in the middle of making his when they started. His skin itched.
It was Logan’s turn. He opened it. It was also chocolates. He pocketed his this time and passed the rest out. As he was doing so, another mini fight with the sticky hands broke out.
“It’s your turn Veera,” he mentioned.
She sighed, stopped her fighting, and pushed forward. She opened the box and then moved back without glancing inside. Caleb whacked her with his sticky hand. She laughed and tried to whack him back but hit dad instead. Seconds later and they were racing around the kitchen once more, having fun.
Logan smiled at them and didn’t join in. They seemed to be having fun. He’d probably ruin it.
He looked in the open box and pulled out a couple of pull back race cars. They were tiny and cheap and they were in advent box every year. Logan sat them down.
Since it was Veera’s turn, she got to choose first. But she was playing and having fun and his whole family seemed to be enjoying themselves, so Logan let her be. She could choose the one she wanted in a minute, that was fine. Logan could wait.
“Hey Lo,” Veera called, “Go ahead and open the next box!”
Logan froze.
He couldn’t do that. Veera hadn’t chosen which car she wanted yet. She had to choose first before moving on to the next box.
“You need to pick which car you want first,” Logan called back.
“I will in a minute, just open the new box,” Veera said.
“I don’t want to be rude,” Logn replied. Because he didn’t. That’s why the rule was in place. It let the person who opened it choose first, which was polite. Logan sometimes struggled to know what was polite and what wasn’t, and his family often got upset with him about that. But this was an established rule that Logan knew was polite. He could at least follow that.
Being rude was mean and Logan didn’t want to be mean. So he’d wait for Veera.
“Just open the stupid box,” Veera said, coming back over to the advent box.
“Choose a car first.”
“Just take one Logan,” she huffed.
“You’re supposed to choose first,” Logan said, because that was a rule.
“Gosh,” she huffed, “See this is why I hate doing things with you. This is why nobody likes you Logan. You’re making this into such a big thing it doesn’t even matter.”
“I’m j-”
“Here, whatever, I’’l take the blue one you can have the green. Let’s move on now, come on. Open the new box, god Logan.”
Everything was going to fast. Logan stood, blinking for a moment as he tried to process her words.
Logan’s parents stepped forward, recognizing the increasing tension in the room.
“What’s going on here?” his dad asked.
“Logan’s making a big deal out of nothing,” Veera said, rolling her eyes. She stepped towards Dad, “Logan wouldn’t open the new one until I had chosen which car I wanted. Which is just-” she huffed, “So I chose one but he’s still not opening the box.”
His parent frowned.
His mother spoke, “Logan why don’t-”
“I wasn’t trying to not open the box!” Logan protested, finally finding his words. Veera was making him the enemy again and maybe if he could just explain… Because he wasn’t being bad, he wasn’t! But they were frowning at him like he had been but really he was just trying to be polite like they wanted him to be.
“Logan-”
“Veera opened the box with the cars. And if you open the box you pick first. That’s the rule. It’s polite. We do it so we’re not mean. And I’ll open the box now in just a minute- I just wanted to clarify what I was doing. I wasn’t trying to make it a big deal, I-”
“God Logan,” Veera huffed.
“Logan why don’t you just open the box. You’re making this more difficult for everyone involved.”
How was this Logan’s fault? Everything was moving too fast. He didn’t know how to keep up.
Logan’s eyes felt strange and his whole body itched and he could still feel the sticky residue on his hand. He wanted to flap his hands and get it off. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream.
His parents wouldn’t be happy if he did those things.
He looked at the advent box. He wanted this to be perfect. It was the last year.
(That felt so Wrong).
Logan felt worse. He frowned, looked down at his feet, and with the little energy he had left, he exited the room.
(Better to leave now with his family just a little upset than to have a meltdown in front of them, causing them to be extremely angry with him).
He could vaguely hear Veera’s complaints behind him.
When he got to his room he threw the stupid pullback car that was still in his hand at the wall. Once he had done that- and kicked his desk for good measure- he immediately got into his bed and cuddled the blankets around him. They were the thickest ones he had. Then, he opened his mouth and shoved a pillow in it.
He began to scream as loudly as he dared, muffled by the pillow. He cried too. He cried a lot.
His brain waged war with him, outlining everything that was Wrong and it all felt off and Logan was falling to pieces and nothing felt right and Logan didn’t know how to fix it.
He wondered if this was his fault.
He had probably done something wrong again, broken another rule.
But he was too tired to think about that and his brain didn’t like him right now so he screamed and cried and bashed his hands against the wall.
(He made sure to stay quiet enough that the rest of his family wouldn’t hear him, even though that made his body itch unpleasantly).
Eventually, he tired himself out and stopped crying. He was exhausted. His brain had trouble thinking and connecting and his eyes grew heavy even as he kept crying, pitiful whimpers interrupting the tears every so often. He felt himself starting to nod off.
The last thing Logan heard before he fell asleep was his family laughing the other room, presumably playing with the sticky hands once more. Enjoying themselves. Without Logan.
That was also a tradition, his family only enjoying Family Time without him. And he hated how that felt Right.
I recently lost someone I knew to an overdose. I will be taking a bit of space from tumblr. I’m actually planning on posting a fic tmrw, but I probably won’t be super present in social media for a bit.
I’m doing okay, but it’s hard. Greiving and processing.
