whooooo having an anxiety attack about covid. again 👍

The sound of music

(aka i’m so sorry for naming it after a musical it has nothing to do with dkjsdjksdjk names are hard)

My gift for @anianthe for @sanderssidesgiftxchange

Rating- Teen cause i’m incapable of not writing wayyy more swears then are necessary-

WC- 2947

Ship- Just Virgil interacting w the other sides,, feel free to interpret romantically if you want!

Warnings- not really any! Remus shows up briefly so.. beware of that. and ig Virgil is also kinda mean bUT he does it affectionately.

AO3

-

“We’re having a movie night!”

Virgil blinked. Took off his his headphones which, unfortunately, hadn’t been playing anything- he wore them out of habit, sometimes- meaning he heard everything his stupid best friend just said.

“No, we aren’t.”

Roman flopped down on his bed without waiting for any indication it was okay, something Virgil was all too used to. “We are now.”

Virgil sighed heavily and pushed Roman with his foot, trying to roll him off the bed. He didn’t budge. “And if I don’t want to?”

“Pleaseeee?” Roman employed the puppy dog eyes and Virgil knew already this was a losing battle. Ugh.

“I get to pick the movie.”

Roman perked up immediately, coming to sit next to him. “Yes! Okay! Just- Disney?”

Virgil rolled his eyes, wondering if Roman was capable of consuming content made by anyone else. He was beginning to doubt it. “Nightmare Before Christmas, then.”

“Predictable.” Roman murmured smugly, and he elbowed him.

“You want this movie night or not?”

“Okay, okay! I yield!” Roman cried, clutching his ribs. Virgil was pretty sure he was more upset at the prospect of a cancelled movie night then the ‘pain’ he was overplaying right now.

“Okay.” Virgil agreed, smugly, and set the movie on.

He’d seen it a million times already, which for most people would only make it boring by now- but Virgil found comfort in familiar things. Plus, that animation! He could happily watch it a million more times- and, honestly, probably would.

That meant he had it memorised, though, and soon enough he was singing along to the introduction under his breath. He listened along contently, until an unfamiliar third voice joined the chorus, and he startled, looking to the side. “Roman?”

Roman stared back, raising an eyebrow at him. “... Hi.”

“Were you singing along?”

Romans eyes flicked between Virgil and the screen, where the movie was still playing, in confusion. “Yes, Dr Gloom? Look, I know what a downer you love to be, but these pipes can’t stay closed all the time! They need exercise- and, the world deserves- neigh, needs to hear them!”

Virgil huffed at the dramatics, although it was fond. “I never said it was a problem, Sir Sing-a-lot, I’m just surprised.”

“One, that’s not an insult and I’m absolutely using that,” Roman retorted, “And two… It’s Disney! One of their best! Do you really expect me to not know the words?”

Virgil snorted, but he had to admit, he couldn’t disagree with that. “Whatever, nerd.”

Roman gasped, somehow seeming more upset than when Virgil had elbowed him. Of course that’d be what got to him. “I am not! I’m a prince- a very princely prince! Not-”

“Whatever you say, prince of the nerds.” Virgil hummed out, smirking to himself. Maybe Roman bursting in out of nowhere wasn’t so bad… This time. He still hated surprises and would not be convinced to do this again. He said that every time

-

Being Romans best friend, unfortunately, had its side effects. One was unplanned, unannounced Disney marathons he had no choice but to roll with. Another was actually listening to his musicals so often he learned to like them, too.

For all he said about Hamilton being overrated (and Romans reaction was priceless every time), he had to admit it was good. A little fast for him to keep with, but he rarely sang along to his songs anyway, preferring to hum quietly unless he was really in the mood.

He liked keeping his music to himself, too- he didn’t want to annoy anyone, so he always wore headphones- but sometimes he just wanted to drown the world out, and they went to full volume. Worked a treat to drown everyone out, but plenty audible to everyone else in the room. Sometimes, though, they’d just have to live with it.

Today was one of those days, where Virgil didn’t want to speak to anybody and had the volume to show it. He was playing one of Princeys musicals, too, humming along to ‘my shot’ no matter how different it was to his normal taste. He nodded in acknowledgement as he passed Logan on his beeline for the fridge, planning on grabbing the easiest and least healthy snack possible.

Retreating with his bag of marshmallows in hand- he was pretty sure they weren’t meant to be in the fridge, but they were imaginary, so maybe nothing needed to go in the fridge. Holy shit.

He pulled the headphones back, opening his mouth to ask Logan's opinion, when he heard a sound that made him freeze in his tracks.

Logan was rapping along to himself. And well. Jesus, how had he forgotten about that? He stared, still in disbelief, and Logan awkwardly trailed off when he noticed his gaze. “Ah, you could hear me.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to ask… Doesn’t matter. Holy shit, Lo, you’re amazing.”

Logan flushed slightly, looking down at the table. “I simply have an appreciation of the genre, and Hamilton has some particular, uhm- how would you say? ‘Bangers’.”

Virgil laughed, slipping into the seat opposite him and taking the headphones off completely. “Dude, I’ve spent enough time with Roman to know having an ‘appreciation’ doesn’t mean you can pull something off.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly fighting back a smile. “I am not sure he’d appreciate you saying that.”

“Eh, I’ve said it to his face before- and will again.” Virgil dismissed, feeling his lips turn up as well. “Why don’t you do it more?”

Logan shrugged, adjusting his glasses awkwardly. “It is hardly a logical skill for me to have, so it simply… Hasn’t come up.”

“Ro doesn’t need an excuse for songs to ‘come up’ before he starts singing them.” Virgil pointed out, and Logan chuffed.

“No, he certainly doesn’t. But we are different people.”

Virgil laughed, nodding. “You could say that again.”

“Oh. Alright, we are differen-”

“It’s an expression, dude. Come on.” Virgil interrupted, sounding nothing but fond as Logan widened his eyes in realisation.

“A highly illogical one, but alright. I can add it to my flashcards to avoid further confusion.” He decided, pulling out his deck there and then to add to. He paused when he heard the crackling of a plastic bag pulled open, looking up as Virgil helped himself to a marshmallow. “Please do not tell me you intend on consuming that entire bag.”

“Maybe.” Virgil held it out, grinning now. “Want one?”

“A key ingredient is gelatin, created by boiling down a pig or cows bones, skin, ligaments or tendons.” Logan deadpanned, and Virgil almost threw the whole bag away in disgust before he remembered,

“But they’re imaginary!”

Logan titled his head. “I suppose so.”

“Actually, I was thinking…” Virgil began, curious about how the fridge actually worked. Soon enough Logan was in a full-fledged rant about mindscape food, and half of it went over his head, but he didn’t mind listening. It was interesting, after all.

-

Whatever concerns Virgil had about not bothering anyone with his music, the other sides didn’t share them. Roman didn’t hesitate to sing whatever came to mind as it came to mind, offering full renditions of his favourite musical tracks daily, Logan could be heard humming to himself as he worked, Remus had no restraint about… Anything, really, and this was no different, Janus wasn’t exactly considerate, and Patton- Patton was the worst at all.

He wandered the mindscape belting out whatever was in his head at the moment which, as a father figure, was always old, tacky, and bad. They’d learned to ignore it for the most part, but some of the songs he played… Some of them were just unforgivable. And, sitting on the couch as Patton tidied up a little, Virgil had left himself completely at their mercy.

“JOLENE-”

Virgil pulled his hoodie over his ears, wishing he’d brought his headphones. Or just not left his room. “Please, no.”

“Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeeeeeene, I’m begging of you please don’t take my man-”

“Pain, Padre. This is causing me physical pain.” Virgil groaned, slamming his head back in an attempt to make it all stop. Unfortunately, the sofa was soft, and he just bounced back. Eurgh.

“Awh, cmon kiddo! I’m just singing. You could always join me.” Patton chirped, rearranging the same jar for the fourth time in three minutes.

“I might die.” Virgil deadpanned, staring Patton dead in the eyes, and he giggled.

“Don’t be silly… Come on, my music isn’t that bad!”

Virgil couldn’t quite believe his ears. Maybe they were still bleeding from being subjected to Dolly Parton. “You listen to dad music.”

“Well, yeah, but what else did you expect from your pops-”

Virgil groaned louder, shaking his head. “I- whatever. When’d you even start listening to country music?”

“Nico likes it!” Patton replied, brightly, and Virgil bristled.

“That’s it, Thomas has to break it off.”

It took Patton a second to recognize Virgil was joking, and he started laughing. “Don’t be so judgy! I listen to your music- in fact, I quite like being cautious in the disco.”

“Oh my god.” Virgil pulled his hood down further over his eyes, the secondhand embarrassment hitting him full force. “You’re so old.”

“Now, I know I’m no spring chicken, but that’s hardly a nice thing to say-”

“We are all the same age.” Logan interjected as he walked through the room, gone before Virgil could try and drag the only other sane one around him to his aid.

“Look, Patt- I love you, but Dolly is too far.” Jesus, Virgil was spending too much time with Roman. Dramatic ultimatums weren’t his style at all.

“... How about Country Roads?”

“Jesus Christ.” Virgil sunk further back into the sofa, hoping it’d just swallow him and his smile.

-

“I wanna play a song.”

“Get your own headphones.”

“But yours are so loud, they’re basically speakers! You ever turn them up to full volume while they’re on? How loud are they? Oooh, reckon they could rupture your eardrums so blood would bubble out your ears and trail down your face-”

“Stop.” Virgil interrupted with a grimace, before Remus’ imagination could go anywhere gorier. They’d been at this for ten minutes and his answer hadn’t wavered once. “It’s a no, alright? Just… Go away.”

Remus huffed loudly and dropped onto the sofa next to Virgil. Great. “What do you want?”

“Hmmm… Oh, I can do a list!” Remus declared, and before Virgil could tell him please, god, don’t, he was off. “A pony- to disembowel so I can use its guts for ritual purposes, that one dick in a Russian erotica museum they claim is Rasputins and has magical fertility powers, for Barry Bee Benson to be real so I can fu-”

“Alright!” Virgil shuddered and disconnected his headphones. He didn’t know what Remus wanted to do with a literal bee, and he liked it that way. “There.”

Remus grinned a grin with far too many teeth, just a little too sharp, and Virgil rolled his eyes, waiting for whatever monstrosity he was about to hear.

 There’s some whores in this house, there’s some-

“You did not just play WAP!” Virgil punched Remus in the arm, pulling his headphones off “You- I swear to God, don’t do the dance.”

Remus was already halfway stood up and Virgil quickly pulled him back down. He’d never wanted Remus to stay sat next to him more in his life. (To be fair, it wasn’t something he felt often.)

“But I already know it!”

“Of course you do.” Virgil grumbled, glancing over at Remus. “Why do you have to play… This, up here?”

“Jannie’s kicked me out, you know how he is.”

Virgil blinked at him, regretting what he was about to say before the words even left his mouth. “If I get him to back off, will you keep your music to the dark side?”

“That’s not fun, though! Ooh, wait, Logan likes rap, doesn’t he? Reckon he’d like to see the dance?”

Virgil stared at Remus blankly. “Please, say that was a joke.”

“It wasn’t! If you wanna hear one, though… Ooh, ok. Two kids walk into a hospice- ”

“No.” Virgil interrupted again, although even he had to snort a little at how ridiculous it was. Even if it was also deeply, deeply twisted. “I- look, I’m gonna do it.”

Remus tilted his head further then looked natural. Virgil was pretty sure he heard a crack. “Thought you hated me and Double Dee.”

“I- I’m just doing this for my sanity, alright? And Logans.” Virgil snapped back, avoiding meeting his eyes.

Avoiding things didn’t work with Remus, though, and soon enough he was uncomfortably close, peering right at Virgil with that unsettling grin. “Awww, Purps is being nice to us.”

“Shut up.” Virgil hissed, sinking out before Remus could pry any further. Creativity was so pushy, Jesus.

-

Virgil shuddered. He hadn’t been in the dark side of the mindscape in years and, after so long of the bright upstairs, the dark walls felt a little claustrophobic. He just needed to make this quick.

He strode down the hallway, trying to squash the growing nervousness in his stomach. What was the worst that could happen?

… Literally the worst thing he could’ve asked himself, he realised, speeding up subconsciously. So much could go wrong, while he was down here, and he didn’t even know where Deceit was, what if he tripped and fell and broke something and nobody would-

Piano, faint, made him stop in his tracks.

He wasn’t really an expert in classical music, but this had to be one of the more famous pieces, because he’d definitely heard it before. It was good, though, Mozart or something. Pretty difficult, too.

Exactly the kind of pretentious shit Deceit would play, and kick Remus out to enjoy. (Although Virgil couldn’t really blame him for that second part). Emboldened now he knew he wasn’t alone, and could make some jokes about what a snob he was, Virgil entered the room the sound was coming from.

He paled, because in front of him sat Deceit. At a piano. Playing the song.

“Since when do you play.”

Deceit only glanced up at Virgil, the melody smooth even with the interruption. He hated to admit it, but it was impressive. “Things have been quiet. I had time.”

“Quiet? With Remus?”

“I made things quiet.” Deceit amended, shrugging nonchalantly. Knowing him, it had probably been meant to sound as murder-y as it did. Didn’t stop Virgil from shuddering, anyway, serving as the perfect reminder of just how desperately he wanted to leave.

“Alright, look- whatever plan or plot this is, or is covering up, I don’t care.”

Deceit sighed, looking up at Virgil without faltering the music once. Jesus, he actually was good. “You’re right, I’m incapable of having any interests whatsoever without there being some deep, sinister plot behind it. You’ve spotted my evil plan.”

“I- alright, sarcasm’s meant to be for something obviously not true! That could be true!” Virgil protested, already feeling like he was losing this.

Deceit just raised an eyebrow at him in response, and Virgil instinctively hissed back, feeling more and more like he was backed into a corner.

Deceit had the nerve to laugh at him. “It’s been a while since you’ve done that.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had to talk to anyone so- so-” Virgil groaned, glaring at Deceit. “Stop playing that stupid thing, would you?”

“Alright.” Deceit agreed, and Virgil waited. He kept waiting. The piano continued and after an excruciating minute of listening for an end, he cursed. Why had Virgil assumed he’d be honest?

“Dick.”

“That is my legal name.” Deceit agreed dryly, and Virgil rolled his eyes. He was impossible to talk to.

“Look, just let Remus back down. He’s probably scarring Logan as we speak.”

Deceit smiled at the thought, looking back down at the keys as he played them. “I never said he couldn’t be down here. Oh, and I’m sure there’s /nothing/ about ‘scarring’ Logan that could’ve appealed to him.”

“What, so Remus lied?” Virgil crossed his arms. Remus was plenty of things, but one of them was painfully, brutally, upfront and honest. “That’s your thing.”

“Not lied.” Deceit tutted, like scolding a child for not knowing something they should have. Virgil clenched his fists. “Just… Was dramatic.”

Virgil tried to figure out what he meant before realising it meant literally nothing, and he glared at Deceit. “Stop being so cryptic for five seconds and tell me, Jesus.”

“I wasn’t aware you cared about him so much.” Deceit smirked, and Virgil threw his arms up in exasperation.

“I’m trying to get rid of him!”

Deceit snickered but finally, mercifully, seemed to have already had his fun. “I didn’t tell him to get out if he couldn’t just be quiet and not…” His smile faltered… “Dance on the piano.”

Yeah, that expression was priceless. Virgil laughed as Janus furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“Just… Nevermind.” Virgil was pretty sure imagining that scene playing out was enough entertainment to last him weeks. And a reminder that honestly… Remus didn’t cause as much chaos as he gave him credit for. He was all bark… And plenty of bite, too, but nothing too permanent. “Keep playing, or whatever.”

“You aren’t going to demand I fetch the Duke?”

“He’s not a dog.” Virgil dismissed, resisting a smile at Deceit’s murmured ‘ehhhhh’. “He’ll come back when he wants to. And Logan can look after himself.”

“Amazing.” Deceit sighed heavily. “You wasted my time for nothing, then.”

Virgil could be proud of that, at the very least. He grinned in way of response, sending Deceit a nod before he sunk out.

Upon the Clear Distinction Between Fandom and the Baker Street Irregulars

BY LYNDSAY FAYE

November 30, 2012

In light of the ever-expanding popularity of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries in conjunction with recent adaptations including the Warner Brothers films, the BBC series, and the CBS reimagining, it falls to me to discuss certain disturbing tendencies on the part of new devotees to refer to that venerable institution, the Baker Street Irregulars, as a “fandom” when it is actually a literary society. The youth of the Sherlockian world will be excused for making this dare I say elementary error, since the case for the distinction has not been hitherto laid out. Following the summation of this article, however, fans and traditional Sherlockians alike will have reached a much clearer understanding, and the unfortunate misnomer of referring to the present Irregulars as a “fandom” will doubtless cease and be swiftly forgotten.

(Note: for the purposes of this intellectual exercise, the possibility that the BSI may potentially be a storied and erudite literary society and a happily thriving fandom simultaneously will be ignored. This decision was made in light of the fact that a noun cannot be two things concurrently, the way the Empire State Building is not both a functioning office tower and a tourist destination, and the way Bill Clinton is not both a former president and a saxophone player. Arguments that the BSI is peopled by both cultured readers and by eager fans would only muddy the issue, and therefore will not be entertained here.)

According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the word fandom dates from 1903 and is defined simply as “the realm of avid enthusiasts.” Although undoubtedly a positive, even a flattering definition, already we can see that this is an inaccurate way of describing the Baker Street Irregulars, founded in January of 1934 by Doubleday editor Christopher Morley and later permanently established as the premier Sherlockian society by Edgar W. Smith. While the BSI was conceived as a group of congenial, clubbable men who admittedly shared an avid enthusiasm for the Great Detective, no mention whatsoever is made in the definition of fandom of a taste for adult beverages, and the drinking of toasts to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s characters, which is of such import to the group as to be codified in the BSI’s by-laws. As a matter of fact, the words “Sherlock Holmes” appear nowhere in this document, while the words “drunk,” “drink,” “round,” and “toast” occur six times in the brief record. Describing the BSI as a fandom is thus clearly a counterfactual practice, and should be treated as such.

Of note, because the dates could potentially lead to confusion, is the fact that the Irregulars were founded in 1934 in New York City, at very close to the identical time period when the science fiction fandom was forming convivial societies of “avid enthusiasts” in order to discuss space travel, interplanetary colonization, their whip-smart literary contributions, and large-chested alien females. The Futurians, according to Frederik Pohl’s autobiography, were founded in 1934 in New York City; the Scienceers were founded in 1929 in New York City; the Los Angeles Fantasy Society was founded in 1934 in Los Angeles; and the National Fantasy Fan Federation was founded in 1941 in Boston. These societies in no way resembled the BSI, however, for their purpose was to discuss speculative, fictional adventures, while the BSI’s purpose (apart from toasting) was to discuss Sherlock Holmes. The Grand Game, as it’s called, a form of meta-scholarship, bears but scant resemblance to the doings of folk who pen Middle-Earth chronologies and dictionaries of the Klingon language. Those who suggest the BSI is a fandom will also note that, as a literary society, the BSI has always been peopled with thinkers and literary luminaries such as Isaac Asimov, while the Futurians boasted as one of their members Isaac Asimov, who was undoubtedly a different Isaac Asimov to the deservedly admired creative philosopher invested in the Irregulars.

One of the most self-evident differences between the Irregulars and those involved in fandom is the latter’s tendency to memorize an enormous amount of trivia regarding their specific preoccupations, be those preoccupations Battlestar Galactica or fiction featuring anthropomorphized dragons. A member of the Star Trek fandom, for instance, could readily inform an outsider that when Captain Picard was captured by the Cardassians, he insisted despite being cruelly tortured that the number of lights shown to him numbered four; such remarkable displays of knowledge are all too common among fandom enthusiasts. Invested members of the BSI could undoubtedly inform non-Sherlockians that Sherlock Holmes’s ancestors were country squires, that John Watson was an invalided member of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, and that Holmes is on record as having possessed three dressing gowns (blue, purple, and mouse), but as these are matters of historical fact, knowledge of them is much more akin to familiarity with the Gettysburg Address. I say again: do not succumb to lazy terminology and misidentify the BSI as a fandom. The one is concerned with an exceedingly popular series of crime stories, and the other is concerned with pop culture.

The activities of fans vs. traditional Sherlockians are hugely divergent. While fans come together to discuss their favorite sci-fi stories, television shows, and films, Sherlockians confine their conversation (and toasts) exclusively to the sixty stories, referred to as the “canon.” No mention is made of adaptations of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries; indeed, it is safe to say that the BSI as a whole is unaware of such bastardizations of the original writings, if indeed such things as movies and television shows based on the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle exist, which is doubtful. In addition, fandom engages in a pastime termed “cosplay,” defined by Wikipedia as “a type of performance art in which participants don costumes and accessories to represent a specific character or idea.” Such behavior would be anathema to a Baker Street Irregular, some of whom have been photographed dressing in Victorian garb and deerstalker hats.

Denizens of the fandom community fail to confine their “avid enthusiasm” to mere discussion of hobbits and tribbles; they also, as a group, have a marked tendency to collect memorabilia relevant to their favorite characters, spending precious funds in pursuit of items such as action figures and animation cells. A comic book collector would think absolutely nothing of paying triple digits for a prized mint-condition issue of Spider-Man, for example, while my copy of the 1892 issue of the Strand Magazine…no, strike that, I beg your pardon, the comparison is similar but ultimately misleading. Irregulars of my acquaintance have amassed collections of Sherlock Holmes art, Sherlock Holmes books, Sherlock Holmes knickknacks, Sherlock Holmes pins, Sherlock Holmes translations, Sherlock Holmes reference volumes, and Sherlock Holmes talismans such as magnifying glasses or pipes, but as these are clearly objets d’art, they find no equivalency within the realm of fandom.

It is of particular importance to note that fandom participants often write what is termed fanfiction, fictional works featuring their beloved characters in various situations of the fan’s own imagining, defined as “stories about characters or settings written by fans of the original work, rather than by the original creator.” Whenever a writer pens a story about a character created by another author, that tale falls under the umbrella of fanfiction, a practice that the Baker Street Irregulars would find both mystifying and vaguely distasteful. In fact, the mere concept of writing new stories starring characters not belonging to the author would strike dismay into the hearts of the BSI, who very often write and read pastiches featuring Sherlock Holmes and John Watson (a pastiche is defined as “a work of art, literature, film, music, or architecture that openly imitates the work of a previous artist”). As you have already recognized, no doubt, pastiche is entirely different from fanfiction, as fanfiction is specified as being penned by fans, and as I have argued previously, the Baker Street Irregulars are not fans but rather a literary society, and thus are categorically incapable of writing fanfiction. The notion that they could be both we have already dismissed as specious.

One must bear in mind as well the ironclad argument that the BSI was founded in the tradition of the great metropolitan men’s clubs of the 1930s, and thus bears no resemblance whatsoever to fandoms, which are largely concerned with grown men and women wearing tights. I find this line of reasoning particularly compelling, since it is common knowledge that once a group forms around a certain idea, it remains always the identical entity, indistinguishable in its modern incarnation from its origins, free from growth, change, or adaptation. Admittedly the BSI is no longer exclusively for men, but that is an admirable mark of progress and should be considered accordingly. Just as the company Apple Inc. sells small personal circuit boards hand-crafted by the artist Steve Wozniak (keyboard and screen not included), the BSI is emphatically not a fandom. And please stop referring to them by such blatantly fallacious terminology.

Lastly, a word upon the subject of respect for the gentleman who made our literary society possible, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. There are some who take mild offense to those who speak of the BSI as a fandom, but I am not of their number, though it is worth mentioning out of deference that Doyle would certainly be outraged by the term. So beloved a character was Sherlock Holmes to Doyle that he spoke of him always with the soft light of adoration in his eyes and a flush upon his cupid’s cheeks, joy suffusing his features whensoever the subject of his masterful sleuth was raised. Were Doyle to be reanimated and exposed to the neophytes who ignore all discrepancies and insist upon wrongly identifying the BSI as a fandom, his mighty love for his hero would so overwhelm him, and his fury at the misidentification swell into so vast a storm cloud of righteous rage, that he would probably decide to remain alive simply for the pure, unadulterated pleasure he derived from writing the Sherlock Holmes mysteries, and would deliver unto us sixty more cases. And lo, global warming would be reversed, and he would find a cure for herpes.

I trust that this article clears up any remaining confusion regarding the word fandom, and its woeful inexactitude when characterizing the Baker Street Irregulars. I likewise hope I have assured the reader the BSI cannot be both a respected literary society and a fandom, any more than Australia can be both a continent and an island. One earnestly hopes that this will settle the matter for good and all, and we can move on to other, better topics. In the meanwhile, I am going to don my deerstalker and write a story in which Sherlock Holmes fights the Cardassians, that being the sort of activity relevant to my interests. Thank you.

1. Am I wrong or is this a bit rude?

2. Why don’t we hear more stories about how Doyle actually loved Holmes? It’s as though people want the character to be remembered as hated.

Lyndsay Faye is the author of Dust and Shadow and The Gods of Gotham from Amy Einhorn Books/Putnam. She tweets @LyndsayFaye.

@elwinglyre @sarahthecoat @sussexbound @fellshish @artfulkindoforder @johnlockedness @ebaeschnbliah @tjlcisthenewsexy @madzither

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Ma’at and the meaning of ‘truth’

In my reflections on Ma'at, I've sorta hit something I want to like… talk out. One of the meanings of Ma’at is ‘truth’, which is often taken to mean ‘honesty’ when discussions of how to live in accordance with Ma’at come up. To speak the truth is to be honest, yes? But pure, undiluted honesty is a slippery virtue to live by. Lying is hard-wired into our biology. One of the signs of cognitive development in babies is their ability to lie- parents have reported their infant crying in a way that indicates they’re hungry or hurt, only to stop immediately after receiving attention. In fact, the ability to hold two conflicting concepts in our minds is a cornerstone of faith itself. If one cannot hold that the sun is a flaming ball of gas 152.01 million km away (or 92.96 million miles, for Americans) while also recognizing it as a manifestation of He Who Comes into Being of Himself, then you cannot practice faith in a way that allows you to interact with the physical world. This is not to say that we are incapable of honesty- quite the opposite, but one must recognize an amount of dishonesty is required for the world to run smoothly. For examples of this in action, think no further than the level of professional dishonesty required to work in a company, the dishonesty of emotion that the falsely-chipper cashier is required to display, in spite of however they may actually be feeling. Beyond these, as well, the issue with treating the virtue of ‘truth’ as ‘honesty’ is that it can lead to situations that get exacerbated or otherwise compromised by being ‘honest’. If I’m having a bad day, and I come home to find my partner has done something that I dislike, then me yelling at my partner is technically being ‘honest’. But, in that moment, I’m not being truthful. If I care about my partner, then my words ought to reflect that. Honesty is subjective, driven by emotion, and frequently only necessary when wrongdoing has occurred. It is technically honest to come clean about having an affair with someone, but in order to be honest about the wrongdoing, you must first commit the wrongdoing.

What I think is the issue, here, is… a mistranslation. I believe that ‘truth’ as a virtue of Ma’at is closer to ‘speaking to the truth’ as opposed to ‘speaking truth’ itself. If the Ancient Egyptians were solely dedicated to speaking the truth, we’d have no stories of theirs. Every storyteller is a liar. You make up events that never really happened- even the most shamefully honest drunken pub story requires some amount of omission, some level of lubrication in order to make it flow- it’s why the advice given to writers is ‘never let the truth get in the way of a good story’. However, it is possible for a story to speak to the truth of a situation. To lean briefly on my idea of Heka as a legal system, if I am beseeching Sekhmet for aid after being injured by someone, then I will naturally omit any previous slight or unkindness that I did to the other person. The truth of the matter, in this example, is that I have been injured, and require restitution for this act. In fact, in historic writings about Ma’at, honesty is not pushed as strongly as the idea of keeping one’s mouth shut, and speaking well when you are called to. The instructions of Vizier Ptahhotep (all proceeding paraphrases are taken from this translation) instruct a wise man to ‘not take up your heart against a passionate man, for he will not be swayed for you. You can belittle bad speaking by not clashing with him in his moment; it will mean he is called a fool, when your self-restraint has subdued his excess’. In a different passage, he advises when sat at the table of someone above your station, ‘do not speak to him until he has requested: you never know what may displease’, and again, instructs the reader to ‘not recall’ the past failures of someone, in the hopes that this person will be silent on your own failures when all things are equal. None of these are examples of honesty as we’d recognize it. They are, however, examples of restraint, which brings me to my next point. What Vizier Ptahhotep demands of the reader is the practice of ‘good speech’. From the above examples, this does not mean honest speech, nor does it mean frequent speech- it doesn’t even necessarily mean educated speech. Vizier Ptahhotep explains that ‘fine words are more sought after than greenstone, but can be found with the women at the grindstone’. The supposedly lowly are capable of good speech, and Ptahhotep expresses in that same passage that pride of knowledge does not lead to good speech, that one should discuss with the ignorant in the same way as the wise. So, what is good speech, and how does one achieve it?

Good speech is speech that is easily understood- the old adage of ‘if you can’t explain a concept to a 5-year-old, you don’t understand it’ comes into play here. If we are to speak to the ignorant in the same way as the wise, then we can’t give ourselves in to pretentiousness, we have to make sure that our words are concise, and easy for anyone to understand. If someone listening to our words can’t understand, we must be patient and explain ourselves, without giving into ego or lording our supposed intelligence over them. We also must be restrained in our emotion- which isn’t to say we have to be cold, we just can’t let our emotions overtake us when we speak. You can speak with anger, but you can’t let your anger speak for you. Clear communication requires and encourages the expression of boundaries, as well, which is integral to the formation of strong individual relationships, and strong communities. If you can clearly and calmly explain to someone why something is a problem for you, then asking them to respect those boundaries becomes easier, and irrational anger or hostility over setting those boundaries is much easier to identify and deal with as needed. Lastly, an amount of kindness and compassion is required in our speech. While the ancient Egyptians put a heavy emphasis on rank and status that we do not necessarily follow today, the passages of Ptahhotep speak frequently of being kind and not belittling those you’re above, not bragging or being cruel to those who have greater misfortunes than you. This can, and should, be extended to all people. 

Sometimes being kind means showing restraint and keeping your mouth shut, sometimes being kind is not the same as being ‘nice’ and requires an amount of honesty- but this doesn’t mean that you are brutally honest, it means you should explain what the person needs to hear as directed above- in a way that is clear and easy to understand, in a way that is not overwhelmed by emotion, and in a way that shows compassion for them, without being cruel. 

Obviously Ma’at has many more meanings and virtues to follow than just truth, but I felt the need to work through what the philosophy of Ma’at entails with regards to it.

senketsu raped ryuko in their first scene together. shipping them is gross.

It’s fair if you feel it’s a bad pairing.

However, what does sending this rude ask essentially calling me a disgusting person for shipping them accomplish? I’ve written a plethora of essays about how much I hate Senketsu’s first scene, how I don’t fault anyone for disliking the relationship Senketsu and Ryuko share as a result, and how I wish his introduction had been handled differently. 

Please don’t act like I don’t recognize and acknowledge the problematic aspects of what I enjoy. I do. If you had attempted to look for this subject on my blog at all, you would see that.

If you’re really interested in a discussion on this, I can link you:

Senketsu’s First Scene*Further Analysis*Even More* Final Thoughts* 

What Changes Would You Make to Senketsu’s First Scene?

8 Reasons Folks Can’t Get Down with Pairing a Girl and Her Sailor Uniform Together: Masterpost of Rebuttals to Common Criticisms Against Ryuketsu* (point 5)

Do People Actually Ship Ryuko and Senketsu?

Ryuko’s Choice to Wear Senketsu

Or, to address your main point, I can quote what I’ve already written. From the “Even More” post:

The question of whether or not Senketsu “technically raped” Ryuko is likely something that it is utterly dependent on what you define as “rape.” From what I understand, laws vary everywhere about the issue. Here’s just one article discussing the confusion, for a small, small example of the problem. With a million different definitions about what counts as what and what counts as what where, the terms are blurry. Add in shaky and dangerous ideas about consent, and it’s no wonder so many have to ask, “Wait, was I raped?”

I can only really offer you how I personally view this matter. My definition of “rape” lines up with a generic, dictionary.com definition: “unlawful sexual intercourse or any other sexual penetration of the vagina, anus, or mouth of another person, with or without force, by a sex organ, other body part, or foreign object, without the consent of the victim.” Applying this to Kill la Kill, then, I don’t think it’s fair to say Senketsu raped Ryuko. They did not have sex. He is not penetrating her. In my personal opinion, I think it’s almost offensive to define this as “rape.”

Is it a rape joke that’s completely and totally disgusting? Absolutely. Is it what I would consider sexual assault? Yes. Senketsu removes Ryuko’s clothing, gropes her breasts, and forces her to wear him when she doesn’t want to. But I wouldn’t categorize it as rape. It’s like forcing someone into a bikini or a leotard when they don’t want to wear it. Awful, yes, harassment, yes, but it irks me to call that “rape,” which is something very serious in my mind that shouldn’t be made light of.

But, really, I’m just getting into semantics. The real question is: Do you think Senketsu’s actions are forgivable, given the situation? This is fantasy. Senketsu’s created from parasitic Life Fibers that want to hurt humans—just take a look at Junketsu and what happens to Kinue. His actions in his introductory scene follow this line and are completely against his characterization for the entire rest of the show. He’s clearly not in his right mind nor himself when this occurs.

From the “Senketsu’s First Scene” post:

… that first scene? That’s something Senketsu is so incredibly afraid of being. It’s probably his greatest fear of all, a fear that’s even reflected in the battle theme “Before My Body is Dry” with the line, “So help me to stay focused so I don’t fall apart.” He really, truly doesn’t want to be that forceful monster he is then. It’s horrifying to him, and that’s the way I think the scene should have been played—as horrifying.

And it’s not like Trigger is incapable of this. The scene where Satsuki first puts on Junketsu is a scary, powerful scene that really shows the monstrous nature of Life Fibers. The scene where Ryuko is forced into Junketsu is also much the same—scary and frightening.

The only reason I can think of Senketsu’s scene being played in the way it is is to show that Senketsu’s not really evil, since the whole thing’s treated as a joke. But… it’s just so jarring. What he’s doing is just the same as what Junketsu’s doing. It’s not funny in the slightest. Add in the not-so-subtle rape joke and it’s plain offensive.

But it’s not like this is an issue just with Senketsu’s first scene. This is my biggest beef with Kill la Kill in general—it, like a lot of anime and media these days, has a nasty habit of playing off sexual harassment and abuse as something hilarious. Personally, I don’t know why Senketsu’s first scene is always used as the worst example of this, since it’s shown to be pretty OOC for him early on and he never acts remotely like it ever again.

Meanwhile, characters like Mako and Aikuro do similar things to Ryuko when they are in their right minds. Mako gropes Ryuko’s breasts in her Hallelujah in episode 3, takes off her bra in the one in episode 5, and constantly invades Ryuko’s personal space and grabs onto her when it clearly makes Ryuko uncomfortable (see the motorcycle scenes in episodes 8 and 17). Yet, this is seen as funny, cute, and romantic. Then there’s Aikuro, who completely disrobes Ryuko in episode 2, immobilizes her with needles while she’s naked, and flirts with her when he’s her teacher and when doing such is completely inappropriate and brings Ryuko a lot of discomfort. And this, again, is seen as funny.

That’s not to say that I want to bash on these characters or pairings. I just ask why it is that these scenes and behaviors are excused as funny and cute when they’re very clearly not, while Senketsu’s first scene is—as it should be!—almost universally agreed to be disgusting and uncomfortable. Ryuko and Senketsu are one of my most favored relationships in all of fiction, but I would never dream of saying that their first meeting is anything adorable or hilarious. I honestly find it frightening that a lot of similar behavior—unwanted touching and removing of clothing—is brushed aside and laughed at because the perpetrator is a sexy teacher or a cute girl.

Of course, Senketsu’s first scene is a lot more intense, and I’m not stupid. I know exactly what they were referencing with it. It deserves to be controversial, and deserves to be spoken up against. But I think the hate against Senketsu for it is pretty… misguided, to say the least. Again, it’s not that it happens that makes it so bad in my eyes. It’s that we’re supposed to find one of Senketsu’s greatest fears hilarious. We’re supposed to think it’s funny that he’s hurting Ryuko, when his character is so utterly devoted to her and so terrified at the thought of bringing her any harm. This is something that I see as really sad, and it’s so disappointing that we don’t get to see Senketsu grapple with it or apologize for it.

Now, “not being in control!” or “not being in his right mind!” aren’t excuses for what Senketsu does, and it will always be awful and unacceptable. Even if he did apologize for it, it doesn’t erase what he did, and I think it’s a fair argument to say that you should stay away from people who have harmed you in the past. Personally, though, I don’t necessarily believe in that. I think people change all the time. Who I am now is different than who I was five years ago, for better or for worse. It’s the now that matters most to me, so in Senketsu’s case, he’s pretty much a darling sweetheart for the majority of the series, which I place a lot more importance on than his actions in a terrible, OOC-introduction scene where he’s overpowered by primal urges and not himself.

There’s definitely something to the idea that some actions are unforgivable, but when it comes to Senketsu, I lean against that. Still, I’m not going to argue with anyone who does feel that way—that’s just as valid as my feelings.

This got quite a bit longer than I intended. Basically, I hate the scene, but mostly because it’s framed as a joke. As someone who has been subjected to sexual harassment, I can firmly say that there’s absolutely nothing “funny” or “cute” about it, and I think it’s really disappointing and gross that the show plays Senketsu’s nasty behavior towards Ryuko in that way. Not only that, but it’s just so against his character, and is thus something incredibly tragic to me. Had it been played as the nightmare that it is to Senketsu, I don’t think the scene would be so widely hated, but instead seen for exactly what it is: a horrifying moment that must cause Senketsu great pain and fear.

From the “Final Thoughts” post:

I just personally am uncomfortable with categorizing Senketsu’s actions in his first scene as rape. Others may very well have their own valid reasons for defining it in that way.

But if the issue is indeed sexual assault, this is a huge problem in Kill la Kill in more ways than simply Senketsu’s introduction, since the show, unfortunately, falls into this common trend of playing off that kind of behavior for laughs … 

And believe me, I understand and think it’s totally fair if Senketsu’s behavior in episode 1 makes his relationship with Ryuko uncomfortable or unacceptable to some. But I also think that this conversation needs to be extended more often. Senketsu and Ryuko’s friendship—and Senketsu himself—get so absolutely vilified in amounts that I don’t see concerning Aikuro and especially Mako, which, personally, strikes me as unfair and a double standard. These characters also disrespect and assault Ryuko throughout the series—and when they’re in their right minds, too.

Of course, I don’t mean to accuse you of anything, Anon! I just feel that this issue is so, so much bigger than Senketsu and deserves to be talked about more. It really irks me that I retread this argument so many times whilst similar behavior coming from other characters is hardly called out, instead getting hailed as “cute” and “romantic.” In my opinion, if you’re comfortable pairing Ryuko with Aikuro or Mako and believe her relationships with them can grow and be healthy even after past instances of disrespect and harassment coloring their interactions (as I do!), then I don’t see any reason to think differently concerning Ryuko and Senketsu’s relationship.

And, finally, from the “8 Reasons” post:

In my mind, there are bigger issues with the series’ handling of assault than Senketsu’s first scene, but beyond that, Senketsu is honestly probably the most respectful character towards Ryuko in the entire show. He never forces her to wear him when she doesn’t want to—and the fact that Ryuko does take him off multiple times across the series when she doesn’t want to emphasizes that her wearing of him isn’t her being a poor prisoner, but her choosing to be with him—and Senketsu values Ryuko’s thoughts and opinions, openly communicates with her, and constantly considers her wellbeing.

As I once put it, “[Senketsu] is nothing like that first scene in all actuality, and Ryuko and Senketsu’s relationship is built not on nonconsensual behaviors and violence, but on respect and understanding.”

tl;dr, please stop acting like I don’t acknowledge the problems in Ryuko and Senketsu’s relationship. I can like something and understand that it’s not perfect. I can like something and understand that others might hate it and think (fairly) that it’s offensive. 

I don’t want to make assumptions, but considering I’ve only been getting these mean-spirited asks since I wrote out my thoughts on Ragyo and got attacked for it, I figure there’s a connection. Please stop acting like my criticisms of Ragyo were somehow unique to her. I probably have more criticisms about Ryuko and Senketsu’s relationship than even the biggest haters of the pairing, and I love them to pieces.

You can like something and also understand that not everyone will and might even find it problematic. Please stop sending me nasty, personally insulting messages about what I like when I have never, ever shamed you (or anons who think like you) for liking Ragyo.

8 Facts - Death Knight Edition

Or- A Sampling of Orli’s Head-Canons

I did this prompt a while ago for @romariquev and liked it so I thought why not temper it for my precious baby DK.  While @larsaramintore is my oldest WoW OC (and certainly has a very clear space in my heart), Orli is easily my favorite for a lot of reasons.  Originally I was hesitant to RP him as a DK because the practicalities of it can seem somewhat daunting, but now it’s very clearly what makes him the most complicated and unique of my characters.  Here is a little bit of his own personal lore and an interpretation of how I play him and his unique state of being.  There is a lot of discussion and discrepancy out there on how to properly RP a death knight, so understand this is just my take.  I am always open to civil and constructive discussion on the subject though, so if you have questions or comments, please feel free to share them.

1.  The Physical

Though the process of becoming lichborne does change the body (and mind) significantly, most death knights retain an appearance fairly close to what they had when living.  Orli is somewhat frozen in visage of a younger version of himself.  The enchantment is different to that of a forsaken and halts any forms of decay, so to the casual glance he may still look fairly normal.  Death knights do have a distinct aura about them though, so if come within a closer range, you will become keenly aware that he is different.  Most describe the feeling to be much like the sensation of chills that you get when a spirit has entered the room, or the feeling that someone has “just walked over your grave.”

Physically his body isn’t cold like a master of frost might be, but he is devoid of any internal warmth as he lacks a functioning circulatory system, though he would feel cooler to the touch than a normal body of about 98 degrees.  Levyn likens laying against him to feeling “like the cool side of the pillow.”  His breath is cool and his skin is paler than that of an elf who’s spent much time in the sun, though not quite ghostly white.  

Orli exists in somewhat of a numbed state, where much of what he experiences is muted or hushed.  As an engineered weapon of destruction, the senses that he relies on for attack and defense (sight, sound) are heightened, leaving his remaining senses (Including touch) dulled.  Since he doesn’t experience normal reactions to stimulation such as touch and pain, he quite often engages in thrill seeking behaviors to counteract the effect.  This is the specific reason that fighting and fucking are his two favorite activities and he’ll often engage in both even when the consequences might be severe for him.  

2. The Emotional

There is a considerable amount of variance in how most death knights are played, particularly in relation to how their mental state is effected postmortem.  My opinion on the subject is that it can and should vary as greatly in range as the human response to PTSD is.  Some will remain very cold and hardened, some will have varying degrees of residual anger and hostility, and some will even begin to heal emotionally over time. Orli has been through a range of reactions that began with a period of blind rage and withdrawal from society and has now evolved to the point where he is mostly functional as a normal elf.  When he was first turned and subsequently released, his surviving brothers and good friend Lars took to the task of attempting to return him to some semblance of his former self.  The process actually took a few years, but eventually (and after several long stints of disappearing into a black out rage to quell the blood lust) he began to find a bit of balance. Although he struggles still with the paradox of being a former paladin who is now obliged to cause damage and destruction as a matter of course, he is at least now a rational controlled personality capable of a full range of emotions.  He carries with him an emotional shroud similar to chronic depression, but despite of that fact he does find joy and love in the world.  There are always those that argue that death knights are incapable of these lighter emotions, but as they possess free will and the intelligence of their former lives, it seems a very limited interpretation to think that they won’t continue to be complex emotionally. 

3.  The Practical

Orli no longer needs to perform sustaining activities such as eating, drinking, and sleeping.  Undeath is an enchantment and his body will continue to function without the aid of such earthly means of sustenance.  Typically he will only sleep when he is with Levyn, and as such he is prone to going several days at a time without if the two are not together.  

While he CAN eat, he typically does not, mostly because he no longer derives any real pleasure from the act as it is useless to him.  He actually lacks a sense of smell (and the accompanying sense of taste) but this is from traumatic brain injury sustained during one (or several) of his many encounters in the brawling arena and not necessarily a symptom of undeath.  He does still drink alcohol though (and frequently to excess) because he can still feel the effects from most intoxicants even though they might be somewhat lessened.

Orli is a blood DK, which means that he specifically has refined powers of regeneration.  If and when he does get injured, he has the ability to heal himself over time. Most normal methods of healing will either be ineffective or actually harmful to a death knight, though some will say that shadow healing can be of some benefit.  If he is grievously injured, he will need to inflict pain or draw energy from another living soul in order to do it, which is something he does try to avoid at all costs.  

4.  What Remains of the Living

Similar to the variance of thoughts on emotional state are the ideas on whether or not a death knight retains much or anything of their former selves.  Several DKs will claim full or partial amnesia of the events that filled their lives before they were turned.  Originally Orli did suffer with fairly severe amnesia to the point that it was several months before he could fully recognize his two older brothers without prompting.  Eventually though, most of his memory recovered and he now has very few issues.  His short term memory is still fairly poor, though that can also be attributed to the numerous knocks in the head that he’s endured over the recent years.

When confronted about the circumstances surrounding his turning, including the actually physical process, Orli will claim full amnesia of the event.  It’s a topic he fights to avoid at all costs and usually will simply dismiss it quickly as having no recollection of what occurred.  This statement however is actually a lie, and one he’s only ever admitted to his current husband, Levyn.  He does recall his captivity, death, and subsequent rebirth quite vividly and still frequently has nightmares about it, which is another reason that he often avoids sleeping.

5.  His Love Affair with the Light

Like many of his kind (and the rest of the men in his family), Orlando was originally a paladin.  Though he wasn’t the particularly devoutly religious kind, he was a dutiful follower of the Light and a passionate soldier.  If it hadn’t been for his brothers’ vigilance and persistence with him after his death, he may have joined the ranks of former-paladins-turned-death-knights who sought out their own ends rather than continue on as such a grievous perversion.

Continuing on with his existence after the fact has come with its share of challenges, and reconciling the constant need to inflict suffering while essentially still being lawfully aligned is one of the hardest for him.  Orli is still very much drawn to the Light even though it has the potential to be fatally damaging to him, so much so that he has actually been married to 2 priests.  His current husband is acutely aware of the conflict that their relationship presents simply by existing, and although the love is very strong between them, it is constant struggle to find balance.

Holy Light is also one of the few things that can cause Orli significant damage that is difficult for him to self-heal.  It has a burn-like effect and will sear the undead flesh and eventually anything beneath it.  As a regenerative death knight, it is one of the few things that will cause lasting scars on his body, and he has a few that are easily visible.  One is scarring on his jaw and neck from an incident in which his brother had to subdue him with Light and the other is a brand and hand-print that was intentionally given to him by his husband.

6.  The Generational Divide

Orli is a Third Generation DK, so he was risen by Arthas during his reign as the Lich King.  Although they are certainly more powerful in the presence of their rune weapons, 3rd Gen Dks are not necessarily bound to them.  Orli does have a halberd that serves as his runic weapon, and he is frequently (if not always) near it, though he can and will fight without it.  Typically he will only carry the stave if he is in full armor and expecting to be in battle, though it’s bond to him is constantly palpable to him.  Most of the fighting he does at present is actually bare-knuckle boxing, and although he is weaker without the runes, he is still very strong.

7.  Bloodlust

As a Third Generation DK, Orli is bound by the need to inflict suffering onto others in order to satisfy the dark calling (something Orli and his familiars refer to as blood lust) .  If he ignores the pull, he will suffer from symptoms that are much like mana or drug addiction, though they can potentially increase to much greater effect than either.  In order to sate the lust, he has to inflict pain on others, and the degree of pain that he inflicts will correlate to the degree that his lust is sated.  For Orli, the symptoms of the addiction are frequently more mental than physical, although there is a degree of physical pain that grows in association with the increasing lust.

Typically Orli will turn to fist fighting first in attempt to satisfy the calling, though depending on how long he’s waited and allowed it to grow, the action may not be sufficient.  In addition to his sensory deprivation, the constant guilt also weighs heavily into his masochistic tendencies and he will often actually seek to lose a fight just to endure the personal damage from it.  If the fighting doesn’t satisfy his lust, he will eventually be forced to take a life completely, and the longer he waits, the less control he will have over the physical action of it.  

Before his engagement to Levyn, Orli remained reluctant to fully address his dark calling and had a particularly bad habit of waiting until the blood lust grew so strong that it would overtake his mind and essentially send him into blackout rage in which he would indiscriminately kill.  It was during one of these episodes that he returned home to his then wife, viciously beat and eventually murdered her, a fact that he is currently aware of although he his memory of the event is hazy.  

8.  His Mysterious Companions

When Orli finally realized that he could no longer ignore the control that his blood lust has over him, he left to sequester himself in isolation for a rather lengthy period of time in order to gain some kind of control over it.  What he managed to do was fracture it outside of his unconscious brain and create a method of visually keeping tabs on what he now refers to as his Val’kyr, a creation that is very palpable, always in his presence, but appears only to him.

When Orli is fully sated, the visage will appear as a small, albino mouse which usually finds her way into his pocket or will ride on his shoulder.  If he ever seems to be looking specifically at nothing, especially in the immediately surrounding area, he is usually communicating with her.  As the calling grows, so does his companion, and she will take the form of several different creatures throughout the process.  A white raven and albino python are also frequent visitors and they begin to signal a more urgent need to slake his lust.  

Eventually the form of a full Val’kyr will appear to him, but usually only in the final moments of a kill when she has the greatest power over him.  If he manages to ignore the others to the point of summoning her, she will begin to whisper insidious doubts and painful realizations into his ear until he is eventually driven mad by her presence.  Fortunately though, it has been Levyn’s presence in his life that forced a recognition of the severity of his condition and has caused him to pay much closer attention to the warnings before he can no longer heed them.

tbh burr walking into work rockin heels for a dare he DOES NOT stumble he just works it. everyone's staring, the girls are actually so confused why he can walk so well, the Rev squad has taken over 100 pics each. Washington can't deny he is hella rocking the heels  -anon via @badromantics

Here’s a 2.6k fic because what else am I doing with my life. The rest is under the readmore.

“It's impossible,” Lafayette huffed under his breath. Aaron spared a look from over his book- everyone in his friends group were strict enforcers of the “no work while visiting” rule.

“What's impossible?” Aaron asked- probably not a great question to ask, but he was bored.

Lafayette frowned and pulled up something red and strappy. Stiletto-heeled, ankle strap shoes dangled from his fingers. “It looks amazing on me, I know it! But I can not walk on them for the life of me! It is utterly impossible.”

Aaron gave the shoes a contemplative stare. “It's not impossible. But if you've never worn heels, they could be difficult; I'll give you that. Start with kitten heels, perhaps, or go for wedges and platforms. They have a wider base, so they're easier to balance on.”

Lafayette stared back, a confused squint on his face. “Little Burr, how do you know so much about heels?”

Aaron didn't bother taking the bait. He wasn't ashamed of what he knew, but he did deserve some secrets. “I just do. If you want to jump straight to stilettos, you can, it's just going to take a little effort.”

“A little?” Lafayette threw a hand to his chest. “I have been trying, and I have been failing! I bet you couldn't take a single step!”

This drew an unconscious smirk from Aaron's lips. If only they knew. “You're right. I couldn't in those, they're far too big for me.” Even if Aaron couldn't tell just from looking, if they fit Lafayette, they most certainly did not fit Aaron.

Lafayette crossed his arms. Aaron recognized a glint of challenge in his eyes. He knew where this was going. “Alright. I bet you could not spend an entire day in similar heels in your size without falling once, or taking them off.”

It wasn't great for one's feet to wear stilettos all day, but Aaron could do it if he wanted to. The question was whether he wanted to. “I don't do bets just for the sake of betting.” Aaron's intent lay in the air, silent but clear. What was Lafayette willing to put on the line?

“Alright. You're bluffing.” Lafayette frowned, his forehead creasing in concentration. Then, with a sudden grin, Lafayette spoke. “The loser of the bet has to do the others' bidding for a week!”

Aaron wasn't bluffing, of course, but there was no point in telling Lafayette that. Plus, the stakes were... interesting. “Is that a work week, or the full 7 days?”

“7 days. Next Sunday, to the following Sunday. Are you in?”

Aaron pretended to give the question a long, careful consideration. His mind was already made up, but there was little sense now in tipping Lafayette off about his miscalculation.

“Alright. I'm in.” Aaron kept his face blank. He shook Lafayette's proffered hand, sealing the deal.

Lafayette's grin turned to a predatory smirk. “The bet starts tomorrow morning and does not end until midnight. I hope you like bowing and fetching drinks.”

Aaron resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “We'll see where we land, won't we?”

Lafayette wouldn't know what hit him.

-

Lafayette was waiting at Aaron's door come morning, phone out and ready in one hand and two coffees with a paper tray in the other.

“I feel like waiting by my door might be a little much,” Aaron raised an eyebrow. “And is that recording? Do I need to invest in a restraining order?”

Lafayette shrugged, incapable of his usual dismissive hand wave, hands full as they were. “A week of servitude is on the line, little Burr. I'm going to check you aren't cheating.”

Aaron did roll his eyes at this. “Well,” he gestured down at himself. “Does this look like cheating to you?” Aaron barely avoided striking a pose, however slight. He had to admit he was proud of his choice. Four inch, needle-thin closed toe stilettos, in a shiny black the exact shade of his usual work dress-pants. They were a classic in the formal work place, made interesting with a rich red underside.

“Little Burr, you have yet to take your first step.” Lafayette shifted his phone, aiming it more squarely in Aaron's direction.

Well, he wasn't wrong. Aaron straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and walked. Lafayette gaped as Aaron smoothly strode towards and then past him. “I assume one of those are mine?” He paused to gesture at the drinks. “A bit rude to stalk me with a camera, otherwise.”

Lafayette jumped, finally moving. He swung to Aaron, actually needing to catch up with a short jog. “Wha- how did you-!?”

Aaron grinned. It wasn't often that Lafayette looked so completely flabbergasted. On his fine features, the expression was almost adorable. “You shouldn't make bets without full knowledge of what you're betting about.” He taunted, just to rub it in.

“Hey,” Lafayette drew out the note, accusatory. “What are your secrets, little Burr?”

“They wouldn't be secrets if I told you,” Aaron countered. “Now pass me one of those coffees.”

-

Aaron thought Lafayette's reaction was dramatic, but it was nothing compared to coming to work. He should have, perhaps, seen it coming. Dramatics were an every day occurrence at Washington and Associates; today was no different.

Alexander was the first to greet them, outside the office. He had clearly been told about the bet, not that the forewarning stopped him from gaping like his jaw had been dislocated. It was a little amusing, but by now Aaron was more concerned about getting to work.

He took a long sip of coffee and strode past Alexander in his best, slightly swaggering walk. “You'll catch flies like that, Alexander.” Aaron's hand was on the door by the time Alexander managed to speak.

“Wh- you can wear heels? What the fuck, Aaron?”

Aaron turned back, brows raised. “Does that bother you? Because if it does, you can fuck off...” Aaron trailed off. Alexander was blushing, cherry red from nose to cheeks to ears. “Uh,” Aaron faltered, taken aback. He had just been having fun- and now he felt a little bad. Aaron didn't think he could have that kind of effect outside the stage, without even trying. Maybe good heels had a bigger effect on one's look than he thought.

“Buh,” Alexander stuttered; and then snapped from his stupour at Lafayette's giggle. “Shut up! I'm just not used- you're taller than me now, okay?!” If anything, his blush deepened- but the spell was broken, leaving Alexander huffy and embarrassed. Not an unusual state, for him. Aaron pushed through the door.

Walking into the office was also an adventure, somehow. Jefferson trailed off, mid conversation with Madison, both of their eyes bugging out impressively. Lee choked on a mouthful of coffee, hacking until he turned purple. Eliza somehow gained sparkles in her eyes, face overtaken by an ecstatic smile.

“Those shoes look amazing on you!” She skipped over. “I didn't know you liked heels, Aaron! You have great style, why don't you wear them more often?”

Aaron didn't bother hiding a pleased smile. Eliza was a joy to talk to, no matter the subject. “It's part of a bet, actually. I don't like drawing attention, you know.”

“Well, you've certainly done that today.” Eliza shot the surrounding room of silenced people an appreciative look. “So I guess you have a point. That's a shame, you look fantastic in them.”

“Ah, thanks-” Aaron was cut off by a firm, deep cough.

Washington was out of his office. “I came to see what the silence was about,” He explained himself. Washington scanned the room, quickly landing on Aaron. He sighed, “I don't even want to know.”

With a sharp turn, Washington strode back to his office. Aaron could barely hear the quiet whisper: “I don't deserve this”, before the door slammed shut. Aaron could sympathize.

The presence of the boss, however brief, was enough to push people back to their own business. Actually having to work did wonders on settling things down. Aaron felt lingering stares, and of course Jefferson tried to make a comment- but Madison pulled him away. Aaron made sure to pass Madison a thankful nod.

Of course, come lunch time, things got weird again.

“Let's go out to lunch, little Burr. It's not much of a bet if you sit in your desk all day!” Lafayette jutted a hip out, leaning against Aaron's desk like he belonged there. Aaron carefully watched the stack of files scant millimeters from Lafayette's side, just waiting for the slightest movement to send them scattering to the floor.

“Sounds like something you should have thought of before you set the terms.” A smirk found its way onto Aaron's lips.

Lafayette mirrored the smirk, somehow making it twice as flirty and three times as mischievous. “Little Burr, are you afraid of a challenge?”

The argument was basic and very, very weak. Regardless, Aaron wouldn't mind a nice lunch. “Only if you pay.”

“Deal!” Lafayette chirped, holding out a hand. Aaron took it, expecting a shake. He was hauled to his feet instead, nearly losing his balance. “Oh, should you perhaps be a bit less confident? That stumble was nearly a fall.” Lafayette's smile turned shit-eating.

“You pulled me, doesn't count.” Aaron shot back. Lafayette hummed, tone light and non-committing. Aaron ignored it.

Lafayette sauntered out with Aaron beside him, apparently well over the shock from earlier. He still peeked over at Aaron several times though, seemingly disappointed at Aaron's easy gait, keeping up with him.

Alexander was at the door, because of course he was. He took a quick glance at Aaron's legs, then up at his face- and wow, he did have to crane slightly, Aaron really was taller than him- then fervently away, an embarrassed look on his face. It was an interesting form of power. Aaron tried not to think about it.

It was entirely unsurprising when Laurens and Hercules were found already waiting for them at the diner. Expecting it by now, Aaron let them have their moment. Laurens whistled, loud and impressed; Hercules made a strange squealing sound. They both whipped their phones out.

“It's like you've never seen a man in heels.” Aaron threw a hand against his hip, unimpressed by the day's spectacle. “We better sit down and order soon, lunch break only lasts so long.”

“Oh no,” Alexander, at some point, had found his words. “Washington gave the 'i don't want to know' complaint. As far as he's concerned, today is a write off as long as the work actually gets done. But let's go in anyways, I'm starving.” Alexander threw the doors open.

“You know,” Laurens shot Aaron an up-down, appreciative look. “It's not that none of us have seen men in heels. You just make them look real good.” Aaron faltered at the compliment. He felt surprisingly warm.

“Yeah! You've really got the figure for it, and the posture, of course. How is your posture so good, man?” Hercules grinned, slapping Aaron on the back. He felt himself grow warmer.

“Uh, practice,” Aaron admitted, on the slight side of flustered. Everyone froze, even Hamilton, still holding the door open. “Never mind,” Aaron followed quickly, knowing it was too late.

“Practice, little Burr? Practice where, doing what? I'd like to see whatever it is you practice that requires high heels!” Lafayette shot Aaron a fluttery wink.

“Alright, enough, let's go get lunch or I'm heading back to the office.” Aaron stalked to the door, almost shoving Alexander.

Somehow, they were seated. “Hey Burr, you secretly a stripper?” Laurens stage whispered from the other side of the booth.

Aaron considered the question, and then considered what technically true statements he could make. He was a lawyer, after all. “I'm not,” He said.

“Damn.” Laurens crossed his arms.

“Runway model?” Hercules ventured. “Because if you are, I'd model you any day! Hell, even if you aren't, I'd model you. You look so much more... sophisticated, like this. Not that your normal stance is bad, but you just hold yourself differently.”

Aaron felt a creeping little smile. It was a cute compliment. “No I'm not, and no thank you.”

“I'll discover your secrets yet, little Burr,” Lafayette warned, leaning conspiratorially towards Aaron. The only response Aaron could dignify that with was a short eye roll.

Lunch was surprisingly quick. “It's not worth the effort of demanding those pictures don't get posted everywhere  online, is it?” Aaron tried to peer over at Lafayette's phone. They all had them out, and were damn lucky Aaron didn't mind all that much.

“You know us too well,” Laurens responded with a grin. Alexander and Hercules shrugged. Lafayette shook his head, drawing his phone towards his chest and away from Aaron's sight.

They walked back to the office. “Are you sure you aren't even a little strained?” Lafayette's voice was almost a whine.

“I'm sure,” Aaron chuckled. “Why, nervous yet?”

“Of course not,” Lafayette scoffed. To his credit, he did seem confident. Aaron had no idea how he still was, given Aaron's obvious comfort in the stilettos from the get go. “You'll slip up sometime, all I have to do is be there to see it.”

“There's only half a day of work left, and I've certainly not had any trouble yet” Aaron reminded.

“So there is.” Lafayette did not seem worried in the least.

The reason why was revealed as soon as Aaron shouldered his jacket, lost in thought over what to do, now that work was out and the weekend officially started. Lafayette was waiting by his desk again. Aaron sighed. “Please don't tell me you intend to follow me home and watch me until midnight?”

“That would be a lie,” Lafayette admitted. His lips turned up, clearly pleased with himself.

And thus, the day went. Lafayette tried to challenge Aaron several times. A set of jumping jacks. A set of one-foot hops. Warm-up stretching poses. Aaron humoured him, balance far too good to be threatened by something so juvenile.

There was one thing Aaron's balance wasn't too good for, though. Lafayette challenged him to do a series of squats. Aaron had no problem with that. What he did have a problem with, however, was the firm push Lafayette threw into Aaron's shoulder in the middle of said squat. Completely unexpected and with more than a little force, Aaron toppled onto his back.

“Well, well, well, looks like I won the bet after all.” Lafayette's grin stretched ear to ear.

“That doesn't count, I didn't lose my balance from the shoes, you just pushed me!” Aaron snapped. Honestly, the things these guys tried to pull.

“Ah, but those weren't the terms, were they?” Lafayette made a mocking 'tsk' sound, and Aaron paused. He knew where this was going, shit. “The bet was, you can not take the heels off until midnight, and you can not fall.  All forms of you falling must be valid, as we did not specify what causes of you falling did or did not count.”

“Yeah, but you and I both know what you meant. You're just twisting.”

Lafayette crossed his arms smugly. “Perhaps, perhaps not. Which argument do you think would stand, if taken to court?” God, Aaron hated having lawyer friends. Even though he was one, too.

“It wouldn't ever go to court,” Aaron's protest was token at this point. As annoying as it was, Lafayette did out-smart him. He couldn't help but be impressed.

“Maybe not, but it will go to be judged by our good friends Alexander, Laurens, and Hercules. Who do you think they will side with, in this?”

Aaron sighed. They both knew the answer. “You are a dirty, ridiculous cheater.”

“Yes, but a dirty, ridiculous cheater who won. Remember, the week starts on Sunday.” Lafayette pretended to consider his next words. “Addressing me solely as Monsieur, or sir, will do fine. I'll make sure to have the maid dress sent to you before then.”

Aaron froze, disbelieving. “Maid dress?”

“Of course! And now that I know you can handle them, I know just the perfect shoes to match.” Lafayette sighed, a dream-like, pleased sound. Aaron had the distinct feeling that the next week would not be very fun for him.

This was why Aaron didn't do bets.

Oldham Personality Styles/Traits Test Results

(Clicky Clicky)

For comparision, here’s my results from other typology systems: INTP (LII-Ne), 5w4 sp/sx (548), RULAI, Chaotic Neutral, Lunar, Melancholic, Ravenclaw, Horned Serpent

Idiosyncratic types are tuned in to and sustained by their own feelings and belief systems, whether or not others accept or understand their particular worldview or approach to life. They are self-directed and independent, requiring few close relationships. Though they are inner-directed and follow their own hearts and minds, Idiosyncratic men and women are keen observers of others and particularly sensitive to how other people react to them. They tend to question common beliefs and expectations. They are highly spiritual and do not close their minds to any possibility, always asking what if?' They tend to have a deep inner life, act eccentrically, and live in their own world. They may be interested in the occult or the supernatural and are drawn to abstract and speculative thinking. Fitting into everyday, conventional life can be difficult for Idiosyncratic people. Others may view them as strange, which can be a problem in jobs and relationships. They must live life their own way and sometimes regret they cannot do things in the orthodox fashion. The pressure to conform presents intolerable stress for them. Two key factors affect the quality of Idiosyncratic lives: whether they can find an accepting environment and how well they adapt to others' expectations. Few work settings tolerate eccentricities of behavior, unless the individual has a great deal to offer by way of intelligence or talent. Some Idiosyncratics do well with one ear tuned in to their own personal worlds and one outward to what the boss expects of them. Others, however, have a hard time understanding or accepting authority. Idiosyncratic people do not need other people to give their lives direction or meaning. If they can't find partners who accept their unconventionality, they usually do well on their own. Some are content to experience several relationships in their lives without necessarily finding their one and only.

Everything except the superstitions bit (I’m actually an atheist), though I did have an esoteric phase in my teens and enjoy mythology and random speculation (as just that, stories)

Solitary types have little need of companionship and are most comfortable alone. They do not need interaction with others to enjoy life. Self-possessed and self-controlled, these individuals are alone because they want to be alone, not because they feel left out. Free of the passionate need for others, they can be quite content standing back and watching others. Indeed, they are often gifted observers of nature and of other people. Emotionally, highly Solitary people are even-tempered, calm, dispassionate, unsentimental, and unflappable. They display an apparent indifference to pain and pleasure and are not driven by sexual needs. They are not greatly influenced by either praise or criticism. They function well at work. They get down to work quickly and don't spend much time fraternizing at the water cooler. While they usually do not do well within the political framework of larger companies, when left alone to do their work, they can put their mind to it with unusual concentration. Solitary individuals can be content within relationships as long as their partner accepts their need for solitude. However, even moderately Solitary people may not intuitively comprehend others' feelings or respond to their emotional cues. 'You don't love me!' is a common lament of partners of Solitary people. The more the partner pushes for emotional reactions and a depth of intimate feeling, the greater the stress on the Solitary person. To cope, he or she will retreat. The partner would be better off recognizing signs of caring that are different from the usual I-want-you, I-need-you, l-love-you's.

Ugh that last paragraph, that exact same relationship problem. I don’t often hear the concept of “So introverted even your loved ones sometimes stress you out” in a way that doesn’t conflate it with misanthropy. Like I don’t want to make anyone feel bad or ignored (thats a horrible thing to do) but im not good at this. 

I wouldn’t describe myself as self-controlled or good-at-work (probably due to other traits in the mix) though I can concentrate when the time & subject are right. (otherwise im more on the distractable side tho. or it depends on what it is.) I distinctly remember taking some test/assesment and getting a high score specifically for concentration, i think it was the highest overall (the lowest was motor function. 11 year old me could not catch a ball to save her life.)

As a child or teen I would often start reading at noon and be so concentrated on the book I’d fail to notice the passage of time until my mom came in to get me for supper and asked why I hadn’t turned the light on. 

I don’t think I’m unflappable at all but again it depends on what and the situation and i dont really know what others see, like, I obviously know I have feels but its my own head. 

Serious types are solemn and not given to emotional expression. They are realistically aware of their own capabilities but they are also aware of their limitations. They are not tempted by vanity or self-importance. They hold themselves responsible for their actions. They=re thinkers, analyzers, evaluators, ruminators and will always play things over in their minds before they acting. Serious individuals anticipate problems and when the worst happens, they=re prepared to deal with it. Serious individuals are realists. They see the hard, harsh nature of life clearly. They have no illusions and are incapable of imagining a silver lining. They are no-nonsense people particularly suited to hard times, when their ability to push on can help everyone to survive. They always work hard and provide for others without any sense of heroism or pride in their efforts. Even though they can seem joyless, Serious types are not necessarily unhappy. They take great satisfaction in their view of the universe. They are interested in serious subjects, which they find reassuring, and they find no need to escape into pleasure. Serious people are intensely hard workers, dependable, and trustworthy. They persevere whether or not they are enthusiastic or well rewarded. This can make it all too easy for employers to take advantage of them. They do not expect encouragement or to be treated well by others. Although they are not socially outgoing, once they do connect with others they form very stable, long-term attachments. They tolerate the rough spots in relationships well. They are as critical of others as they are of themselves, but their fault-finding gives them no pleasure. They deeply regret causing any pain . Others who continually insist that they change into optimistic outgoing, happy-go-lucky people cause them great stress but their characteristic cynicism helps them to cope.

ARGH  that “I’d rather see the world as it is than sugercoat it for feelgoodsyness” thing can be so hard to explain to people. I try to be realistic about my abilities & place in the world and aspire toward realism. (and when I’m already stressed out optimism will only serve to make me feel pissed or misunderstood. Unfortunately my mom is the exact opposite, leading to a few regrettable outbursts and isunderstandings, though not major ones. )

The work ethics part doesn’t really apply tho.

Conclusion: Ugh I am such an INTP 5.

I also scored somewhat high for ‘Leisurely’ (Fuck authority sweetheart ~ ) and ‘Vigilant’ (Yay self-sufficiency, though it’s more a horizon to strive for than something I’ve fully realized yet)

That was the 14 trait model tho, the 16 trait one also has this:

Artistic

·                   Mood swings. Shifts from a moderately upbeat, outgoing, creative character to a withdrawn and sullen depressive one. When in a high state, they can be highly productive, original, humorous, and engaging. During a low state they become self-absorbed, pessimistic, apathetic, and may resort to substance abuse. The mood swings happen regularly in cycles, are similar to bipolar (manic-depression) disorder, but not as extreme in the polarity, and also the mood changes in the Artistic personality are usually more so the result of within the person and not triggered by external circumstances.

·                   Artistic inclinations. People of this style often involve themselves in some sort of creative output. They may go into a state of inspiration where artistic production is strong then fall into an apathetic daze, where it becomes difficult, almost unbearable to create art. Since they have a grasp on many corners of the human personality, they have an advantage at expressing the nuances of a particular viewpoint. Many of the world's great artists have had this character style.

·                   Unpredictability. They may take up new plans, jobs, residences, etc. out of impulse. They despise routine and love improvising, stimulation, and new experiences.

·                   Feeling-oriented. Their impulses and feelings control their lives and dictate their appearance and decisions. They rarely make decisions through a systematic, logical follow-through approach but instead base it on their current mood.

·                   Relationship difficulties. Relationships can be trying for these people. They may become promiscuous, unfaithful, or difficult to handle.

·                   Low self-control. They have a difficulty saying "no" to themselves with their appetite. They may go on shopping sprees, binge on food or drink, give into sexual compulsions, etc. Afterwards, they may feel guilty about it and restrict themselves from pleasure.

·                   Shaky self-confidence. Can swing from delusions of grandeur and superiority, and feeling very confident in oneself, to a loss of self-esteem and hopeless despair.

Aaah now here’s a place for my inner emo child and inner gushy nerd fangirl to find a home. I’d wedge it in lower than ‘Idiosyncratic’ but higher than serious. It actually coexists with the above stuff surprisingly well (It’s called “TiNe” or “5w4″)

On the positive, this personality test is the first (except maybe Divergent, but the tests do give me Erudite nearly as often as Candor depending on how absolute the questions are worded. ) to refrain from outright calling me a NEEERD.

So, thanks oldham? 

Also, now I know the precise kind mad I might end up as if I happened across severe trauma, brain chemistry goof-ups or lovecraftian abominations (Please let it be the latter). That is one interesting tidbit of information.  

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DEPRAVITY IS THE PRIMARY DOCTRINE OF GRACE

TOTAL DEPRAVITY IS THE PRIMARY DOCTRINE OF GRACE: Every time I speak, whatever subject I preach on, it is and always will have an association with grace because grace is the basic, fundamental, underlying principle of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The grace of God is the foundation upon which everything exists and indeed, rests. Total Depravity is one of the graces and major tenants of God’s grace. Total depravity simply means that men are fallen sinners Rom. 5: 12. “Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned.” By one man! Who was that man? It was the first man, Adam. By this one man sin entered into the world, and death is the result of sin, so death passed upon all men for that all have sinned. What is meant by Total Depravity? First, then, we consider the question of what is meant by total depravity. Certainly, if you’re acquainted with the Scriptures, you know that man is in a fallen state, you know that he’s a sinner. You may know that from your own experience, as well. But more importantly, do you know that you are a fallen sinner in the sight of God? When we speak of total depravity, we speak of the Biblical doctrine that the whole human race is under the curse of sin and that we are all guilty before a perfect and holy God. Romans 3:10 says, “As it is written, There is none righteous, no, not one...” That declaration is obviously offensive to people today, who often consider that there is a spark of divinity in every human being and that it just needs to be fanned into a flame of righteousness. That while man may, at times, make some mistakes, that he basically is good. If you put him in the right environment, give him enough encouragement, he’ll turn out exceedingly well. But the Bible says, “There is none righteous.” That’s all-inclusive, is it not? In fact, he adds the comment, “no, not one.” There are none who are righteous in the sight of God. Now, he says, “As it is written,” which means, of course, that this was written before. We find the principle in the Old Testament. We find it explicitly written. Let’s look at Psalm 14: “The Lord looked down from heaven upon the children of men, to see if there were any that did understand, and seek God. They are all gone aside, they are all together become filthy: there is none that doeth good, no, not one.” v2-3. You sometimes hear people say that before the foundation of the world God looked down through time, saw those that would have tender hearts, saw those who would be receptive to the gospel, and made a choice based on what He saw. But the Scripture declares that when God looked down from heaven upon the children of men He saw that they are all gone aside. This is the declaration of God’s Word. So, secondly, we not only mean that the whole race is under the curse of sin but that man, then, is alienated from God. Rom. 3: 11, “There is none that understandeth, there is none that seeketh after God.” Now, somebody might want to argue with that point and say, “Well, I believe that there are religious people all over the world.” Indeed, there are. But it’s one thing to seek religious exercise; it’s another thing to seek God. Man does not love God by nature. Man does not seek God by nature. He may want the advantages. He may want the benefits. He may want what he feels like God can give him, but he doesn’t want God because God is holy and man is sinful. A third thing that we would say, by definition, as to what is meant by total depravity, is that man is completely incapacitated in the spiritual realm. Eph. 2: 1 says “...you hath he quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins...” Dead in trespasses and in sins! That obviously does not mean that man is physically dead. He’s still alive physically. He still commits sin. He still lives a life that is displeasing to God. He does have a will. By his will he determines to do what is sinful; that’s what he wants to do. He’s not coerced to sin, he sins because he wants to sin. He sins because it is his nature to sin. Then we look at the Gospel of John 6: 44. These are the words of Jesus, “No man can come to me, except the Father which hath sent me draw him: and I will raise him up at the last day.” Here is a clear declaration of man’s incapacity. He’s not interested in coming because he doesn’t fear God, he doesn’t seek God, and he doesn’t love God. He basically hates all that God stands for. That’s what’s in the natural heart. What does Total Depravity not mean? Now, when we say “total depravity,” what does it not mean? It does not mean that all men are equally bad. All men are sinners. All men are corrupt. All men are dead in sin, but not all are equally bad. Man is as bad off as he can be, but he’s not as bad as he can be. You obviously know of some people that are worse than others. There are people around you who are courteous, pleasant people. They may not be children of God, they may not have a work of grace, but they are basically nice people. Let’s turn to 2 Tim. 3: 13, “But evil men and seducers shall wax worse and worse, deceiving, and being deceived.” If every member of the human family was already as bad as they can be, then they couldn’t get any worse. But this text says that evil men and seducers are going to get worse. Secondly, when we say that man is totally depraved, we are not saying that he has no conscience. If God had not created man with a conscience, that is, if nobody had any sense of right and wrong, it would be impossible for civilization to survive. Do you think that there are enough policemen in the United States to keep everything under control if all of a sudden everybody that lives in this country was void of any conscience, had no sense of the difference between rights and wrong, just gave way to do their own feelings? It would be impossible. The policemen themselves wouldn’t have any sense of what was appropriate, and so there would be total chaos. Now, let’s look at Rom. 1: 18, “For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who hold the truth in unrighteousness...” The word which is here translated “hold” means “to suppress.” These are individuals who attempt to suppress the truth about God, “Because that which may be known of God is manifest in them; for God hath shewed it unto them.” “For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse” Rom. 1:19-20. Man has no excuse. God says He has revealed His power, His greatness, even in creation so that a man looking on the natural creation would have to know that it did not happen by chance, it was by a Designer. After describing man in his fallen state, pursuing a terrible course of sin and wickedness, Paul continues in verse 32, “Who knowing the judgment of God, that they which commit such things are worthy of death, not only do the same but have pleasure in them that do them.” You see, man is not left out there, even in his sinful, fallen state, with no sense of right and wrong. He’s not totally void of a conscience. He’s not totally blind to the fact that there is a Creator. God says all of this is clearly manifest. Third, when we say that man is totally depraved, it does not mean that he is incapable of human good. A term that’s often been used is “civic virtue.” In other words, you may know an individual who is a good citizen, a law-abiding citizen. They pay their taxes they’ve never caused anybody any particular trouble. They’ve never been arrested. They contribute to their community. They’re kind to little children. They’re considerate of animals. Do you think that because somebody does all of these outwardly good acts that that means, beyond any question, they are a child of God? That’s not what Scripture teaches. Let’s go to the Book of Luke 18: 11 relates, “The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican.” Now, remember that the sect of the Pharisees was a very strict order. Their moral standard was exceedingly high. The man was, no doubt, telling the truth. He was not a cheater he was not like many other people were as far as their moral walk and conduct. He was not an adulterer. He obeyed the law and gave tithes of all that he possessed. Now the publican smote on his breast and said, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” And verse 14 says, “I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other.” The Pharisee was not justified! Matt. 7:21, “Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven. Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? And in thy name have cast out devils? And in thy name done many wonderful works? And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity.” 21-23. Here are people that had spoken in God’s name, they had prophesied, they had supposedly cast out devils, they had done what they perceived to be many wonderful works. What does God say about them? “I never knew you.” He didn’t know them in the covenant. He didn’t know them in election. He didn’t know them in redemption. He didn’t know them in calling. “I never knew you: depart from me...” You see, we are to love God supremely. Let’s look at Matt. 22: 37, “Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment,” 37-38. A person might make tremendous sacrifices because they want to be recognized. They want their name on some building dedicated to their memory. The entire motivation may not be selfish, but it’s certainly with no thought that, “I want to glorify God.” Do you think that any service that’s rendered with an inferior motive, that “I want to make a name for myself, I want to do this so I will feel good about myself,” is something that’s honoring to God? No! He says the first and greatest of the commandment is that you love the Lord your God with all your mind, heart, soul and strength. Furthermore, when we say that man is totally depraved we are not saying that he is no longer accountable. Obviously, Adam was accountable to God in the garden. Man is still accountable. Back to Romans, chapter one, He has manifest in them the truth that there is a God, “God hath shewed it unto them” v19. He says that even His eternal power and Godhead are manifest “so that they are without excuse” v20). Chapter nine, verse 18 says, “Therefore hath he mercy on whom he will have mercy, and whom he will he hardeneth.” The Spirit of God was inspiring Paul to write, and, obviously, the Spirit of God knew what man’s reaction would be, and the question is answered in advance: “Thou wilt say then unto me, Why doth he yet find fault?” How can he be accountable? Paul gives God’s answer to that question: “For who hath resisted his will? Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, why hast thou made me thus? Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honor, and another unto dishonor?” v19-21. A Further Description of Our Depraved State: Now, seeing something of what we mean by the term and what we do not mean, what further descriptions do we have in the Scriptures concerning this fallen, depraved state? We learn first that man is depraved from birth: “I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me” Psalm 51:5. Also, Psalm 58, verse three says, “The wicked are estranged from the womb: they go astray as soon as they are born, speaking lies.” You have never had to sit down and teach your child to make some mistakes, do some wrong things, to exaggerate, lie a little bit, rebel and disobey. We are all born with that fallen, sinful nature. The will of man is depraved. We read earlier that Jesus said we cannot come to Him unless the Father draws us; and one reason you cannot come is that you will not come, according to John 5: 40, “ye will not come to me, that ye might have life.” You cannot come because you’re spiritually dead. You will not come because you don’t want to. You don’t want to come to Him. In Rom. 6:20 we read “when ye were the servants of sin, ye were free from righteousness.” Mankind can willingly do what he’s inclined to do, but what he’s inclined to do is sin. If you stand and look at the mighty waters rushing over Niagara Falls, you might say, “Those waters are free. Look at how rapidly they move! Look at the force and power!” Those waters are free to go down because water goes downhill. But you can’t say that Niagara Falls is absolutely free, because those falls are not going to reverse their course. This describes the condition of the sinner. He’s free but free from righteousness. Every part of man is affected by the fall. He’s depraved in his mind, his heart, and his affection. Rom. 8 “Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be. So then, they that are in the flesh cannot please God” v7-8. You see, the man might be a good next-door neighbor, might be a wonderful citizen in the community, but he cannot please God if he’s in the flesh. The carnal mind is enmity against God. Jeremiah 17: 9 says, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?” The heart is not just tainted by sin, the heart is desperately wicked. The heart is the seat of affection it’s there that man has his rebellion against God. And, what makes it worse, the heart is deceitful. Man consoles himself with the idea that he’s not quite as bad as the next fellow. His sinful nature is expressed, then, in his every action. “As it is written, there is none righteous, no, not one: There is none that understandeth, there is none that seeketh after God. They are all gone out of the way...” Rom. 3: 10-12. Does that say some of them have gone out of the way? No, we are all naked in our unrighteousness before a holy God. The entire world has become guilty before God. What Conclusions Must Be Drawn? Seeing that the Scripture teaches we are all totally depraved by nature, what conclusions must be drawn? First of all, there is nothing whereby man can recommend himself to God. You have no righteousness, no merit, nothing that you can offer. Isaiah 64:6 even describes our acts of righteousness as “filthy rags” before God’s perfections. Seeing, then, that you have nothing whereby you can recommend yourself to God, salvation cannot possibly be by free will. In spite of the fact that multitudes of people declare that this is the ultimate basis of salvation, it cannot possibly be by man’s choice, by his free will. As Romans 9:16 says, “So then it is not of him that willeth, nor of him, that runneth but of God that sheweth mercy.” There is, therefore, no hope apart from sovereign grace. But the positive side to that is there is hope in the grace of God through the Lord Jesus Christ. If this sounds bleak and dark, here comes the good part. What is the turning point? What makes the difference? “But after that, the kindness and love of God our Saviour toward man appeared, not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost” Titus 3: 4-5. What made the change? It wasn’t the sinner. It was God. If you’re saved, you are saved God’s way and God does the saving no other way is acceptable. Oh, how wonderful when you come to see the fallen state of man, his ruined, hopeless condition, yet to understand that by the grace of God sinners are saved! “For if when we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son much more being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life” Rom. 5:10. The good news is that God does save sinners, not on the basis of their worth and merit, but according to His eternal design and purpose to the glory of His name, through the redemptive work of His Son Jesus Christ. The substitutionary death of Christ was absolutely essential. God became a man in the person of Jesus Christ. He came from heaven at the appointed time, went to the cross at the exact moment, on the exact day, to do the exact work, to save. He laid down His life for them. He redeemed them, and that’s the basis of our salvation. Do you see yourself as a sinner? Do you acknowledge the justice of God in your own condemnation?” The hymn writer said, “If thou my soul should send to hell, Thy righteous law approves it well.” Do you hate sin? An indication that God’s work of grace has been wrought in you is that you come to the point that you hate sin. Yes, you still have a battle. You still are made to say with the apostle, “O wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?” Rom. 7:24. But when you sin, you don’t try to defend it, you don’t try to excuse it, you don’t say, “God’s not fair for forbidding me to do this.” Paul preached to those at Thessalonica, “Knowing, brethren beloved, your election of God” 1Thess. 1:4. How, did he know that, because they had turned from idols to serve the true and living God? Do you cast yourself alone on His mercy? Have you been brought to say, “I believe Jesus Christ is the only hope for fallen sinners? I delight to hear that He came, not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” If so, then that is evidence that God’s grace has touched you, changed you, and brought you to repentance and faith in Jesus Christ. Oh, how sweet is the Gospel! The Gospel is good news to sinners. It is not good news for everybody. To some it’s foolishness. To some, it’s a stumbling block. To some, it’s an offense. But if it’s good news to you, it’s an indication you’ve been blessed by the sovereign grace of God. Man is totally depraved. Salvation is of the Lord.

Hyperallergic: Peter Saul Knows What to Do with the President and a Hamburger

Peter Saul, “Global Warming, the Last Beer” (2017), acrylic on canvas, 78 x 120 inches (all images © Peter Saul and courtesy Mary Boone gallery, New York)

Madcap Peter Saul is our William Hogarth, Honoré Daumier, Hieronymus Bosch, and Basil Wolverton rolled into one glorious, outrageous, nutty, rambunctious painter. Some artists get the honor of having their work displayed in the White House, but chances are Saul will never be one of them, no matter who the occupant is. You know he deserves the Presidential Medal of Freedom, but will never get it.

In the 1960s, Saul titled two of his paintings, “Mickey Mouse vs. The Japs” (1962) and “I Torture Commie Virgins” (1967). The 1970s brought “Crucifixion of Angela Davis” (1973). In 1990, he did a painting titled “Legal Abortion,” and in 1993, he did one of  Jeffrey Dahmer strapped into an electric chair, celebrating his birthday with a cake  made from a butchered male pelvis.

Peter Saul, “Nightwatch II” (2016), acrylic on canvas, 78 x 92 inches

Saul’s recurring subject is pain and abuse of all kinds — what we inflict on others and do to ourselves. It seems that the only way he can embrace these often monstrous subjects, and whatever they stir up in him, is with scandalous humor. This is why such distinctions as tasteful and tasteless seem beside the point when looking at and thinking about Saul’s garish work, which is just one reason why he is such an important artist. He also happens to be an amazing colorist and terrific caricaturist. More than socially conscious, he is a formally inventive artist with a deep love for toppling sacred cows and pushing everyone’s buttons. In his hands, painting and paint become a platform for preposterous visual proposals.

This is the America that Saul has never shied away from, never failed to poke, probe, or give the finger to — a self-righteous country that has been in a race war ever since intolerant religious freedom seekers landed on the Eastern seaboard and began slaughtering Native Americans in the name of God. I love the fact that he keeps hammering away at everything a well-behaved citizen, whether of a liberal or conservative political persuasion, would have an informed opinion about — Abstract Expressionism, Frank Stella, Andy Warhol, fast food, sweaty businessmen, big-breasted women, or capital punishment. Saul has a quarrel with the world and he isn’t above using puerile humor, ghastly bad taste, or in-your-face grotesquerie to nettle it.

Peter Saul, “Return to the Alamo” (2017), acrylic on canvas, 78 x 120 inches

Just when you thought it was safe to walk into a gallery and pretend to be shocked or titillated, you turn the corner and see his ludicrous portrait of art world arbiter Clement Greenberg as “Clemunteena Gweenburg” (1971), an androgynous figure simultaneously pleasuring and sodomizing him/her self with paint brushes. Lots of artists try to be confrontational or shocking, but very few have ever publicly shot themselves in the foot while laughing loudly, clearly, and heartily.

So when I heard that Peter Saul: Fake News was opening at Mary Boone (September 9 – October 28, 2017), I headed over there before the opening,  eager to see what he had cooked up since America had elected a disgustingly narcissistic, racist bully as President. There were two paintings in which the President’s unmistakable head appears more than once, “Quack-Quack, Trump” (2017) and “Donald Trump in Florida” (2017).

Peter Saul, “Quack-Quack, Trump” (2017), acrylic on canvas, 78 x 120 inches

In “Quack-Quack, Trump,” there  are three of him. In the lower left corner he is firing pistols at ducks popping out of his coiffed yellow hair; Directly above his combover, a huge, boxing-gloved, airborne hamburger lands a punch on his face. In the lower right corner he appears as a head flying through the air, chasing money. Meanwhile, a duck popping out of the hamburger bun is accompanied by a comic strip speech balloon filled with the words “quack, quack,” apparently in greeting toward an approaching one eyed, misshapen head flying a plane whose fuselage is a finger (this pilot gives a flying fuck). His speech balloon, in response, contains only a question mark.

Hmmm. We see a man, appearing three times, being walloped by a hamburger, flying fruitlessly after money, and trying to shoot the ducks hiding in his hair. The painting is funny in a horrible way and horrible in a funny way. If Philip Guston saw Richard Nixon as a tragic figure, Saul recognizes that there is nothing redeeming about the 45th President.

Peter Saul, “Donald Trump in Florida” (2017), acrylic on canvas, 78 x 120 inches

In “Donald Trump in Florida,” Saul  presents the viewer with two Trump heads, both of them on the far right side of painting, close to the edge. The lower head is growing out of the neck of a lizard that is perched on a wayward palm tree, which is poking in from the lower right corner. His smug face is a sickly olive green. At the top of the painting there is an alligator — his hair is clearly Trump’s  — stretched out, gobbling money. Below the alligator, a fighter jet piloted by a grinning crocodile fires projectiles at the Trump head hovering just above the lizard man. Another crocodile is chomping on an anonymous man’s legs.

Saul sees the President as a predatory crocodile — a cold-hearted creature incapable of empathy. There are six paintings in the exhibition, all of them irreverent. They riff on self-importance, make fun of Rembrandt, laugh at climate change because it is all too real. Saul’s impertinence is a frontal, no-holds-barred attack. I want him to keep it up. I want to see how far he can go. I want him to know that I am cheering him every step of the way. I don’t think Saul can be too tasteless when it comes to this disgusting regime.

Peter Saul: Fake News continues at Mary Boone (541 West 24th Street, Chelsea, Manhattan) through October 28, 2017),

The post Peter Saul Knows What to Do with the President and a Hamburger appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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Convince Me

@raythrill  @hubris-but-no-writing  @holdthesewords remember this post?

Here’s half of a fic because why not 

It started off as a simple thought.

Burr frequently allowed himself to be dragged to their various gatherings. For a long time, Lafayette wondered why Burr bothered to come, or why Alexander kept inviting him. Hercules was with Lafayette in their confusion, but didn't care either way, personally. Laurens was actually on Alexander's side, and not just because he liked backing Alexander up.

“Hey, shut up!” Laurens hissed once, when Lafayette voiced their objections, forgetting Burr was still there- and what? He was as quiet as a mouse! “Don't be an asshole when you don't even know him, man. Aaron's actually a cool guy.”

With Laurens apparently glowing endorsement, Lafayette knew they had to investigate. They started by trying to draw Burr into a conversation.

“Ah, Aaron Burr! You look lonely!” The teasing was uninspired and almost automatic, so it wasn't entirely surprising when Burr looked in their direction with a raised brow, but failed to react to the taunt. “Tell me, are you a cat or dog person? We need a tiebreaker.” Technically, they did, since Laurens and Alexander were arguing dogs, and Hercules with Lafayette were arguing cats. In reality, Lafayette liked both about the same amount, but making the tie was a good excuse to pull Burr in.

Burr took a long moment to reply, as if something important depended on his answer. “I like both equally,” he said smoothly. Lafayette's nose practically wrinkled at the bland, nothing answer. Why couldn't Burr say what he really thought?

“Man, people weren't kidding when they said you had no opinions.” Hercules laughed.

Lafayette could have sworn a tiny frown flashed across Burr's face, but maybe they'd been looking too closely. “That really depends on what 'people' have been talking about me.”

“You are the worst, Burr.” Lafayette drawled at the plain answer. Something curious wiggled in them, though. Lafayette wondered what Burr's actual opinions were.

When Lafayette was curious about a person, they flirted. It was their thing. First, it was an easy way to out transphobes, but second, it was plain fun. Lafayette liked getting under people's skin and enjoyed the ego boost of causing someone to flush or stutter.

Which was why, when Lafayette decided to try flirting with Burr, they were surprised and a little bit bothered to find failure.

“Hey, Burr, how has your day been?” Lafayette winked and flashed a flirtatious smile. With most people, it would be the lamest trick in the book, but Lafayette was confident and charming and had a winning smile, they knew it worked coming from them.

Burr blinked and returned a customer-service smile, boring and fake. “It's been alright. Yours?” Lafayette rolled with it, because not everyone reacted the same, and really, Burr was probably also wondering why they just started talking to him.

But after a few weeks of light probing, there was still nothing. Fluttering their eyelashes in a certain way usually caught anyone's attention for at least a moment, but Burr's expression never wavered. Just polite, clean small talk all around.

It became something of a challenge. Lafayette didn't mind, challenges were fun.

“Laf, why are you going after Aaron?” Alexander accused one night, when it was just them alone. One couldn't expect five people to always have matching schedules, after all- especially when Laurens and Hercules were in school.

“I'm curious, are you not? He is always hanging around, but never sharing anything of himself.”

Alexander huffed, a surprised, amused sound. “So you just want to know what he stands for? I guess I can't complain, it used to really bother me when we first met.”

“Yes, it constantly confuses me why you continue to like Burr,” Lafayette shot Alexander a teasing look. “Unless you just enjoy having someone nearby who will never contradict your arguments? You do like winning unopposed.”

Instead of snapping back or even scowling, Alexander broke into laughter. “Are you kidding me? Aaron doesn't let me get away with shit. He's almost as good a debater as I am, even if he plays full defense far too often.”

“You're lying.” Lafayette blurted, surprised. At Alexander's raised brows, they were forced to consider the point. “This is Burr you're talking about? Mr. Aaron Never-shares-his-opinion Burr? Little Burr who would rather talk charming circles around a point than ever actually get to it?”

Alexander snorted. “You think he's charming?” He held up a hand before Lafayette could object, “And yes. That Burr. He actually has plenty of opinions, when you get to know him. John likes him too, and even Hercules is warming up to him.”

“Hercules warms up to everybody,” Lafayette pointed out. “Liking everyone is his thing. And Laurens likes Burr because you do.”

Alexander shook his head. “Dude. How about you actually just talk to him, instead of whatever you're trying to accomplish. Aaron's not awful, I promise.”

'Not awful' was far from high praise. But it did come from Alexander, the man frequently incapable of polite social interaction. Lafayette vowed to give it a try.

The problem was, 'actually just talking' to Burr posed a dilemma. On the one hand, it gave Lafayette more chances to put his flirt on and make a real effort, while simultaneously actually listening to Burr instead of looking for reactions.

On the other hand, Burr was an interesting person, under all the blandness. He was also completely immune to Lafayette's efforts.

“You should come over,” Lafayette encouraged, when Burr once again refused the Sunday dinner they hosted. “It's not even just Alexander, Herc, and Laurens. The Schuylers and Thomas and James come, also.” Lafayette knew Burr was friendly with those last two by now, not that he ever mentioned them. “It would mean a lot to me if you came,” Lafayette leaned into Burr's personal space. Nothing.

“Do you really want to know why I don't like going to dinners?” Burr shared a soft quirk of a smile, just a tad self deprecating. It was a sign Lafayette was beginning to recognize as Burr preparing to be honest. Maybe it wasn't nothing. Lafayette nodded quickly for him to continue.

Burr shifted, looking around like someone could be listening in. Alexander was occupied by Laurens, deep into some animated conversation, and Hercules was off on some clothing-related subject with Peggy. Peggy didn't usually have the time to hang out with the group, and was actually as into fashion design as Hercules, so Lafayette couldn't exactly blame him.

“I have misophonia.” Burr said in a hushed, but not quite whispering voice. It was not what Lafayette expected. At their blank look, Burr pushed forward. “It's okay if you haven't heard of it. Basically I get a strong reaction when I hear certain sounds, like eating noises. It makes dinners with people hell, unless I can distract myself well enough.”

“I know what misophonia is,” Lafayette answers, too surprised to even make a joke. “Alexander never said anything.”  Alexander was terrible at keeping such things quiet.

Burr nodded, understanding the statement for what it was. “I never told him. Or anyone, really.”

This gave Lafayette pause. Burr was clearly in a deeper friendship with Alexander than he was with them. “Why are you telling me this?” It made no sense. Something small and warm brushed their heart, touched at being confided in. Lafayette wasn't usually the friend people vented to- that was Hercules if one wanted comfort, Alexander if one wanted someone to be angry with. Lafayette was the fun friend, the friend one went to when they wanted to forget things, not confide about them.

“Well, you said it would mean a lot to you,” Burr shrugged, but there was something warm in his eyes. Lafayette felt butterflies. “Contrary to popular belief, I don't actually want everyone to think I'm heartless.” A few weeks ago, Lafayette would have, and probably did, make jokes about just that. But here and now, they were drowning in the definitive proof that Burr was anything but heartless.

There was a beat, Burr's expression turning confused, before Lafayette realized they needed to respond. “You should come anyways,” Lafayette said impulsively, when they couldn't think of anything else to respond with. “I promise to be plenty distracting,” they hastily tacked on, with a confident smirk that belied the sudden fluttering in their chest.

Burr's eyes widened a bit, before his lips tipped into a genuinely amused smile and then, wonder of wonders, a tiny but real chuckle. “It doesn't work that way. You said you knew how it worked.” Burr wasn't even trying to be playful; Lafayette had seen his 'charm' before. This right here was all natural, and maybe that's why Lafayette felt like they were floating.

“It was worth a shot,” If Lafayette's laugh was a bit too quick or a bit too high, Burr didn't notice. “But really, everyone talks the whole way through, loudly too. If that's not enough, I could play some music.” Most of Lafayette's initial motivation in inviting Burr had been to pick his brain. They weren't sure when it became more about actually wanting to spend time with Burr.

This earned a happy little grin, the expression reaching Burr's eyes with a friendly glint. “You don't need to go out of your way for me. Your dinners sound like enough trouble as it is.”

“It's not trouble!” Lafayette almost rushed to respond. “How about, if you come, you're allowed to throw a shoe at anyone who tries chewing with their mouth open?”

Burr chuckled again. The sound was very nice. Lafayette wished to hear more of it. “Only if that privilege extends indefinitely. Alexander loves to talk while he eats, I literally can not be in the same room as him like that.” Burr leaned forward with that statement, actually entering Lafayette's space in an attempt to be conspiratorial.

“It's a deal.” Lafayette was gone.

Burr did show up at the dinner, and Lafayette did make sure music was on, even though everyone kept asking them why. When Alexander tried launching into a story with a mouth full of food, Lafayette called him out. Everyone gave them a bewildered look, except for Burr, who gifted them a soft smile. Already, that made it worthwhile.

Flirting still didn't work, even now that it was as much about actually getting closer to Burr as it was about the challenge of it all. Eventually, Lafayette had to call for backup.

“He's not straight, is he?” Lafayette whined to Laurens, busy studying for his med school classes. The sight reminded them of how nice it was to not be in school anymore.

Laurens only raised an eyebrow, flipping a few pages of his textbook. “He's bi. You can't tell?”

Lafayette loosed a long, breathy groan. “I don't know anymore, he hardly responds at all, and I know he's single. Straight people are the only single people I can't even pull a bit.” Even that wasn't exactly true, they were occasionally approached by straight women thanks to their slightly more masculine gender expression, but a mention of pronouns usually sent them packing.  

Laurens made a long, considering hum. “And this actually bothers you? I thought you were just flirting to get under his skin. Also, you're succeeding more than you think you are.”

“At first, but I don't know, Burr's actually...” Lafayette stopped. “Wait, what do you mean, I'm succeeding?”

Laurens actually closed his textbook, smirking at Lafayette like he knew something. “Why do you want to know?”

Lafayette huffed, crossing their arms. “Don't try to be coy, Laurens. It doesn't suit you.”

“Fine. Aaron thinks you're cute.”

Laurens already had Lafayette's focus, but with that, they were riveted. “He does?” Then, realizing the sentence, “Hey, I'm not cute, I'm elegant.”

Laurens snorted, and then snickered, and then full out laughed. “Laf, you've got a crush!”

“Crush sounds so juvenile.” Lafayette sniffed. It wasn't worth denying. “How do you know, anyways?”

“He doesn't complain at your little nicknames. 'Our Burr', 'little Burr', and all that. He nearly kicked Alex in the face, the last time he tried to call him 'little'.”

Maybe crush was the right word, because it was also very juvenile how that statement made Lafayette's heart float. “Well, in that case,” Lafayette said, their words soft and airy like the feeling in their head. “I'm definitely getting at least one date.”

That caused another snort. “A little ambitious, there.”

“What?” Lafayette's forehead creased. “You just said-”

“I said he thinks your cute. He still doesn't know you're flirting with him. I'm pretty sure half of the time, Aaron's convinced you're trying to make fun of him.”

Lafayette's mood dropped. “I'll tell him, then.”

Laurens shrugged. “If you can. When's the last time you actually, genuinely asked someone out? You always just ramp the flirt up until they ask.”

Damn. Laurens was right. “It can't be that hard.” Lafayette wasn't a shy person, after all.

“Oh, you have much to learn.” Laurens gave Lafayette a condescending pat on the head, somewhat ruined by the fact that he had to stretch to reach.

“Okay, you know what,” Lafayette, frustrated and a little bit egged on by the obvious challenge, made a mistake. “I bet you 50$ I can get a date with Burr by the end of the week.”

It was an easy bet- It was early in the week, Lafayette was good at dating, good at charming despite the recent difficulties, and now they knew for sure Burr was interested. “You're on,” Laurens took it anyways.

The next day, Hercules and Alexander and even Peggy immediately added their stakes to the bet. Peggy was on their side, bless her, and everyone else against.

The stakes only made Lafayette more determined, but they should have realized it was a terrible idea.

--

--

Aaron Burr was in a conundrum. He often was, but this one was considerably worse than the usual fare.

Lafayette happily existed in an entirely different world from Aaron, despite them often being in the same social space. It was clear that Lafayette was both mystified and vaguely disapproving of Aaron's presence, they never tried to hide it. Aaron was fine with that. Despite what everyone said, Aaron knew he couldn't please everyone, and was perfectly content to stay distantly polite as long as Lafayette wasn't actively mean about it- which they never were.

But then, Lafayette started talking to Aaron. First, with a few words, a half assed invitation to debate. Then it became more, and more, until Lafayette started seeking Aaron out first, before their friends.

It shouldn't have been a problem at all, never mind a conundrum. Except for the fact that Lafayette was very beautiful, and actually very interesting to talk to. Once one got past their constant teasing and dramatic flair, they were every facet of Aaron's stereotypical romantic fantasy. Tall, dashing, with great hair and sparkling, smiling eyes. Whip-smart, but not academics obsessed. Outgoing enough to pull Aaron into conversations a bit outside his usual comfort zone, but attentive enough to back off when Aaron needed. They were also funny, very positive, and wasn't put off even by Aaron's driest remarks.

“But there's no way they'd be interested,” Aaron sighed over the face-to-face messenger. Maria laughed from the other end. “Can you stop enjoying my pain?”

“Not until you stop being terrible at everything.” Aaron rolled his eyes fondly at the comment. Aaron's frequent social mishaps were a common thread between them. “Why do you think they aren't interested? You said they talk to you a lot?”

Aaron considered the question. “They're one of those popular, confident types. I'm pretty sure Lafayette has never once been hesitant about the people they're into. I figure if they were interested, they'd have done something by now.”

Maria hummed. “And what if they have done something, but you're too dense to figure it out?”

“Don't be ridiculous, I'm not an idiot.”

The resulting laugh came out somewhat static-y from Maria's low quality mic, but the light derision was still obvious. “Do you not remember when we were kids and I thought I was straight?”

The memory was very old, but still somehow very clear. “Shut up!” Aaron huffed. “You promised never to talk about that.” Given that it was Maria who had been trying to express her mistaken crush, and gotten considerably more desperate, she should have been the embarrassed one, not Aaron. Unfortunately, Maria was one of those few people completely capable of reviewing past embarrassing memories with no shame. “Also, I was a lot younger then, so that's not even applicable.”

“Aaron, honey, you haven't changed that much.”

“Oh, shut up.” Aaron shot back again. “You're no help.”

That was a lie, Maria was always a lot of help, even if it never seemed that way at the time. Judging by her smug smile, Maria knew this as well. “Look, I'll put it simply, for you. Would you want to smooch them?”

“What?”

“Answer the question!”

“Okay, maybe. Yes.” Aaron averted his eyes. “You're being childish.”

“Shut up,” Maria returned Aaron's words. “ I'm not even going to tell you to ask them out, since I know you'll never work up the guts,” Aaron didn't respond- she was right on that. “How about this, if they ask you out, would you say yes?”

“What is this, highschool?” Aaron sniped, and then relented under Maria's glare. “I don't think it will happen, and if it did happen it would probably be as a joke, but if they seriously asked, then yes.”

“Well then, there you go. You've decided what you're going to do, crisis averted.”

The crisis didn't feel averted at all, but Aaron let it go. There were other, less confusing subjects to talk about.

--

The talk with Maria did actually help. Aaron was able to relax a bit, enjoying his conversations with Lafayette, and occasionally even instigating himself. Even when he did occasionally say something awkward, something that slipped through his usually perfect mental filter, it felt okay. He was getting comfortable around Lafayette.

Until, Lafayette started acting weird. More weird than usual. They greeted Aaron, but jumped when he responded. They started talking about unusual topics, like favourite restaurants, fun places nearby, or activities they both enjoyed. And while Lafayette would share their own thoughts, they kept pressing back to Aaron's opinions, and what he liked. It sounded almost like they were scoping out date ideas, but there was no way. If that was what Lafayette wanted to do, surely they would have a more graceful way to do it.

“Are you okay?” Aaron finally snapped, when Lafayette refused to meet Aaron's eyes after asking him some strange question about food preference.

Lafayette was visibly taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Aaron bit back a dry response that wouldn't help the situation. “You're acting strange, this past week.”

Lafayette opened their mouth, denial on their lips clear as day, but then froze, and wilted. “So even you've noticed now. I'm a mess.”

It was Aaron's turn to be taken aback. “You've never been anything less than fully put together from the day I met you,” Aaron admitted. “But if you're going to tell me what's up, I'm not complaining.”

“You think I'm put together?” Their recovery was quick enough to cause whiplash. “Why Burr, I had no idea you thought so highly of me.” Their smirk was wide and mischievous. And Aaron knew it was full of shit.

“Let me rephrase. If you don't tell me what's up, I am complaining.”  Aaron put his hands on his hips. Lafayette pouted. Burr held steady, even if the sight was cuter than it had any right to be, coming from a grown person who was a full head taller than him

They stared at each other, until Lafayette crumbled, glancing away. Aaron allowed a tiny smile of victory. He could blankly out-stare anyone. Lafayette shifted their weight, clearly weighing their options.

“I have a question, but I don't think you want to hear it.” Lafayette finally admitted.

Aaron raised a brow. It was a strange thing to occupy someone, especially Lafayette. “Let me be the judge of that, then.”

“Okay,” Lafayette took a breath, crossing their arms over their chest defensively. “Do you want to go out sometime? Like to a dinner with ambiance, or a movie, or something?”

“What?” Aaron was baffled. “Who's all coming, and why would that bother me?”

Lafayette let out a long, frustrated sigh, scrunching their hair with one hand. “No one would be coming. I'm asking you out, Burr.”

“Oh.” Oh. Aaron considered the idea that Maria was right, about everything, all the time. “Like for real?”

“What do you mean, for real?” Lafayette's brows furrowed.

“Like, if you're joking right now, I will kick you in the shins.” Aaron said blankly, still in shock from the revelation.  

It took Lafayette a moment, but then they almost jumped forward. “No, oh my god, it's not a joke! I wouldn't do that!” Lafayette looked honest, and for a moment Aaron's heart skipped.

“Are... you sure?” Aaron finally asked, when it was clear he should be responding.

Lafayette huffed, sharp and loud and almost a laugh but not quite. “Stop torturing me Burr, please. I would like to take you out. Yes or no?”

“Um,” Aaron stalled, trying to process past his surprise. “Okay.”

It wasn't particularly smooth, for either of them. But it didn't need to be.

The actual date wasn't anything fancy, but Aaron was glad for it. Lafayette greeted him at the coffee shop with a chaste peck on each cheek, that they dramatically stooped down for. “It's custom in France, you know,” they said in way of explanation, eyes dancing in laughter.

“Um,” Aaron said, overwhelmed. Lafayette chuckled and laced a hand in his, gently towing him to the counter.

Aaron and Lafayette chatted, drank the whip cream from their fancy coffees, went for a scenic walk, and chatted some more. Aaron found himself smiling more than he had in a long time, since moving across the city for work. Lafayette even laughed in turn at Aaron's sarcastic comments. Real laughter too, not the light forced chuckles of a person trying to impress, something which Aaron had plenty of experience with. Most people tended to misunderstand Aaron's tone. It was nice.

Aaron kept Lafayette's warm grip in one hand, the half finished coffee in the other. The coffee of course was a lost cause when Aaron lurched over an uneven patch of sidewalk. The coffee went arcing through the air, Aaron not far behind- until Lafayette's hold wrenched him back, their other arm reaching up quickly to settle him.

“Are you alright, little Burr?” Aaron almost flushed between his clumsiness and the pet name. Then, he noticed his nice burgundy jacket was soaked in coffee, and Aaron did flush.

“I'm the worst,” Aaron groaned, vainly trying to wipe off what he could.

Lafayette giggled, light and pure and unguarded, opposite from the mocking notes Aaron half expected. “You are the worst, Burr,” They teased, easing their own jacket off and offering it to Aaron with a flourish. “But only because you tempt me into making the cheesiest of gestures.”

The jacket was going to be stupidly huge on him. And it was, in fact, an incredibly cheesy gesture, but the chill of wind against wet clothing was already starting to make him shiver. “You don't need my help for that, you're cheesy all on your own,” Aaron joked to distract from the red likely staining his cheeks. He shrugged Lafayette's very warm, very large jacket on, folding his own over one arm. As expected, the jacket nearly reached Aaron's knees.

Lafayette plucked Aaron's free hand again, leaning down towards him with a silly grin and crinkled eyes. “You look adorable. May I kiss you?”

“Only if you never call me adorable again,” Despite the words, Aaron leaned closer, caught up in the moment, cozy warm from both the coat and his own fast-beating heart.

“I make no such promise.” Lafayette leaned closer still. This close to their face, Aaron could see that he wasn't the only one affected. Aaron wondered how Lafayette ever managed to look smooth- they were actually a dork. A very charming dork.

Aaron took a rare moment of initiative, and leaned up. With Lafayette already in his space, he didn't need to reach very far to meet their lips. It was light, it was sweet, and it was short. But Aaron saw stars anyways.

The date came to a close, after that. Even if they pretended otherwise, Lafayette quickly became cold, New York winters being nothing to joke about. Still, they insisted Aaron wear their jacket for the trip home.

“You're being ridiculous,” Aaron complained.

“Ah, but am I?” Lafayette swung their joined hands. “If you have my jacket, then you must meet me to return it again. It is the perfect opening to request another date.” Lafayette stopped then, dropping his tone into something uncharacteristically nervous. “If you'd like?”

“What?” Aaron realized he spent far too much time being either confused or surprised. “You want another date? I just proved I'm a walking disaster.”

Lafayette gripped Aaron's hand tighter. “You're perfect!” They blurted, then considered their words. “I mean, if you really are a walking disaster, at least I get to rescue you.” Sheepishly, they scratched their neck.

Aaron's head spun. Obviously, he wasn't perfect. But to hear it come out so impulsively in his defense felt... nice. But Aaron knew he didn't want to make that decision, as high on giddy, puppy-love feelings as he was now.

“I'll get back to you?” To Lafayette's credit, they only drooped a bit at Aaron's uncertain words.

“Well, you do have to return my jacket.” Lafayette repeated. “Which you still look adorable in.”

“Don't call me adorable,” Aaron grinned through his own admonishment. It was a good night.

--

Aaron woke up happy. He bought himself fast-food breakfast and got to work on time, instead of his usual earliness. Everyone started giving him strange looks. Aaron wasn't surprised- he was on cloud nine, and though he wasn't the most expressive of people, it probably showed.

“Are you constipated?” Thomas rudely snapped when Aaron went to ask him for a document. Aaron hummed, ignoring him.

After work, he dropped by Laurens' place to help him colour code and organize his study notes, as previously promised- Aaron was a long time study expert, even if he had no clue about the subjects Laurens was taking.

“You seem happy.” Laurens commented, always blunt.

“Yeah,” Aaron sighed, pulling out the pink high-lighter. Laurens rolled his eyes with an exasperated puff, but let it be.

After a quick trip home and a nervous meal, Aaron knew it was time to return the jacket. Feeling silly, Aaron put it on once more. The cut was flattering on Lafayette, but made Aaron look almost childlike. It smelled like vanilla spice. Aaron laughed at his own absurdity and bundled the fabric up in a bag, shrugging his own, freshly cleaned jacket on.

Aaron considered texting first, but it was Monday evening, which meant Lafayette would be at Alexander's, likely also with Laurens and Hercules unless either of them had assignments due. It would be easier just to head over.

Aaron tried not to think about the likely teasing he would get, returning the jacket in front of their mutual friends. Alexander certainly wouldn't let it go without at least one lewd comment. The others would probably snicker or cajole and act like children in general.

The door was unlocked, and Aaron didn't bother knocking. That was his first mistake. The second mistake was being quiet enough in doing so that the loud conversation inside was not interrupted as he approached the kitchen.

“No one made you wager money, Alexander,” Lafayette's voice was smug and teasing. “Or any of you. I want to see those bills.”

“Oh come on, I don't just have 50$ in cash lying around!” Alexander complained. Aaron wondered what stupid bet Alexander lost this time. They all seemed to like the occasional wager, but Aaron always turned them down because betting was stupid. It wasn't surprising or even disappointing that no one invited him to get in on whatever it was.

Of course, Aaron's benign mood towards the bet went out the window when the subject revealed itself. “How was I supposed to know you'd actually convince Aaron to go on a date with you? You, of all people!”

“Yes, me of all peop-” Lafayette's voice cut off when Aaron dropped his bundle with a soft but audible thump against the ground. Everyone's face whipped immediately to the source of the noise. “Aaron..” Lafayette's voice was surprised, uncertain. They were holding an incriminating fistful of bills.

Aaron felt numb, and slightly dizzy. The high he was riding through the entire day crashed, compressing into a strange hollowness in his chest. “Enjoy your winnings,” He said, not sure if it was a whisper, a shout, or even his normal tone.

“Aaron, wait!” Lafayette scrambled to their feet, long limbs working against them. Aaron was already at the apartment door, nearly slamming it behind him. He took to the stairs at a firm speed-walk. Halfway down, the stairwell door banged open again, multiple voices now shouting for Aaron to stop, to wait, to listen. He walked faster, clearing the building and crossing the street before any of them could see where he was going.

Aaron wasn't interested in explanations. The truth stood out for itself well enough.