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mayfriend-archive · 3 years

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Totally understand if you're not up for it and fully recognize the ronald mcdonald dom/sub anon vibes which is an AMAZING post btw but like...now i'm curious, what the hell did Lord of the Flies anon DO that got him blocked for the discourse? like...i just can't wrap my head around high school lit being...uh...that inflammatory i guess?

Okay so, I'll start by saying I've had a new anon from apparently the same anon saying they are NOT the person I blocked, just a rando making the same points, but I'll answer your question anyway just to set out why this person in particular got blocked, out of the several thousand who reblogged/commented on that very successful addition to the LoTF post I made.

First off, I added the 'real life Lord of the Flies' story because I thought it was a good story. I had read about it only a couple days beforehand in Humankind and, after reading out the entire chapter to my parents who weren't very interested, I was excited that there was not only a post where it would be relevant to post, but that I wouldn't be hijacking it, as it was already rejecting the widespread interpretation taught in many schools, that humanity is inherently savage.

When making the addition, I a) did not think it would get more than a couple reblogs, because the post was already at 50k notes and I figured anyone that might be interested would already have seen it, and b) I did not know the very specific context that prompted William Golding to write the book; all I knew was that he had been a teacher at a public school (basically, the poshest schools in the country - think Eton, Harrow, very 'old money' places that pump out Conservative politicians by the bucket-load 🤢) who hated his job and the boys he taught (which, valid), and new information I'd been given in Humankind - that Golding had said to his wife one day, "Wouldn't it be a good idea to write a story about some boys on an island, showing how they would really behave?" - which had no mention of The Coral Island by R. M. Ballantyne, which I have since learned was the text that Golding loathed enough to write an entire novel in refutation of - and included what I considered a very telling letter from Golding to his publisher, in which Golding wrote of his belief that 'even if we start with a clean slate, our nature compels us to make a muck of it.' Another Golding quote that I believe portrays his belief in humanity's 'innate savagery' is that "man produces evil as a bee produces honey."

Obviously, the author of a book putting forward the case for humanity's inherent goodness was going to oppose Golding's hypothesis; Bregman not only noted Golding's literary accomplishments and beliefs, but his personal life.

When I began delving into the author's life, I learned what an unhappy individual he'd been. An alcoholic. Prone to depression. A man who, as a teacher, once divided his pupils into gangs and encouraged them to attack each other. "I have always understood the Nazis," Golding confessed, "because I am of that sort by nature." (Humankind by Rutger Bregman, p. 24-25)

I have bolded the part about him as a teacher, because it is incredibly relevant to the original post that I commented on, which begins with a comic of a teacher locking her class in to see them 'recreate' Lord of the Flies, something which the follow up comments before mine staunchly reject as both misunderstanding the point of the book, and the fact that it took the kids in Lord of the Flies a significant amount of time without adult supervision to go 'savage'. This misreading of the text is widespread enough that when Golding won the Nobel Prize for Lord of the Flies, the Swedish Nobel committee wrote that his book 'illuminate[s] the human condition in the world of today'. Whether or not they misread it is beyond my expertise - they do at least mention the factors of the outside world neglected by many when analysing the book, but still seem to believe it says something about human nature as a whole rather than just, to quote thedarkbutbeige 'British kids being rat bastards' - but Golding quite happily took his Nobel prize on this basis. Which, in fairness, I would too. It's a fucking Nobel prize.

It was with this knowledge, and this knowledge alone, that I stated in my now very, very widely read comment that Golding 'wrote the book to be a dick', in response to the tags of the person I reblogged from. As I said, I now know that Golding did not write the book (solely) because he hated the kids he taught, but as a response to The Coral Island and the general idea that clearly the British were inherently civilsed, whilst the people they colonised and enslaved were inherently savage. So. That's the background.

The anon - or rather, the person I thought was anon - was the sole exception out of dozens of replies, who instead of telling me about The Coral Island politely decided it was time to go ALL CAPS and regurgitate points already made by thespaceshipoftheseus, and implied that the only reason that the real life Tongan castaways didn't go all Lord of the Flies was because they weren't British. Not because they weren't surrounded by violence like the boys in Lord of the Flies, or there wasn't a World War ongoing, or that they weren't the upper, upper, upper crust of a class-obsessed society like Britain - but because they weren't British. A complete inversion of the concept that Golding was trying to get across - now, instead of all of humanity being equally prone to savagery in the right conditions, it was solely nationality that determined it. As in, the British were inherently savage, but nobody else was.

I, trying for humour, made the terrible mistake of replying to them.

I won't lie, I was absolutely blown away that this was real life. What I think they were trying to do was be that Cool Tumblr Person who, after somebody's been shitty on a post, goes to their blog and sees something Damning in their about/description. In an ideal world, I imagine I'd have gone nuts or done something Unforgiveable. In what I can only call the rant that followed, they stated several times that I needed to go back to high school to get some 'proper literary analysis' skills and that the story of the Tongan castaways was completely unrelated to the point at hand which. I mean, I disagree, considering that I made the addition, but I couldn't get my head around how commenting on a post that was already rejecting the thesis that the 'point' of Lord of the Flies was that humanity was inherently savage and was, in fact, about how kids - British or otherwise - learn how to function from the adults around them, and that traumatised, terrified children aren't going to create a mini-Utopia, and put forward a real life example of how without the key additions of an ongoing world war, a colonial Empire and the subsequent mindset of thinking you are 'inherently civilised' and therefore can't do anything wrong, actually, people just want to take care of each other.

A friend has since asked me why I even have 'england' in my description. To be honest, it's a timezone thing - I talk to a lot of people online who don't share my timezone, and it generally makes me feel like if I don't reply immediately because it's 3am, they have the tools to see that I'm not in their timezone and not just ignoring them. I did consider changing it to 'british' or 'uk' after it was... 'used against me', I guess, simply because I didn't want to deal with it, but you know what. No. Not gonna do that. I am from England, and I have never hid that fact. I have a tag called 'uk politics', during Eurovision I refer to the UK's act as 'us' (even if I really, really don't want to. Because James Newman slaughtered that song and it was downright embarrassing), I regularly post stuff in my personal tag about where I live (and mostly complain about this piece of shit government). If people really think my nationality makes every point I make null and void, then they don't have to follow me or interact with my posts; tumblr is big, and I am one medium-small blog very easily passed over.

I did reply to them, trying to explain the above, but their next response really just doubled down. Because I used the word British instead of English - foolishly because the posts above mine focused on Britishness, and also because although Golding was English and taught English kids, the pro-Imperialism author of The Coral Island, R. M. Bannatyne was actually Scottish so, ding ding ding, falls into the 'British' category - they then decided that I was somehow trying to pretend I wasn't English and made all the same points, before ending with this doozy:

At this point, I knew there was nothing to be gained from replying, because if we're whipping out conditions like they're pokemon cards then there's no actual conversation anymore, and I'm not going to start mudslinging like an identity politician. They made up their mind, and I figured there could be no harm in letting them think that they 'won' by blocking them instead of replying.

Until the ask. INNATE ENGLISH SAVAGERY did, I'll admit, make me think it was them, back again. I even thought up a really good response approximately 12 hours after I replied, I was that sure. Until the second message came in, and said they were just someone who came from the post and made the same point by chance. So the saga draws to a close... for now.

It may have been them, it may not have been - the anon feature makes it impossible to be sure, but as the second message I got said, we're in a heatwave. It's too hot to argue. And I've just written a goddamn essay about a book I dislike anyway.

My pasty English ass is going to go melt. If there's Disk Horse, do not tell me. I am Done™

#emily speaks #asks #anon #lord of the flies #this is long. this is so long. why is this so long #i literally got out humankind so i could quote directly. how is this my life

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fluffy-marshmallow-heart · 5 years

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Drake's Diary ch.25 -A Spot of Tea

The Royal Romance canon from Drake's POV

Words: 1619

I know you guys have been waiting, but it seems this is a filler chapter on PB's part. But it can still be fun. I believe things start coming to a head starting next chapter though! I hope you enjoy this in the meantime!

Master List (Catch Up Here)

Drake was glowering at a table all by himself. Another tea party. I can’t believe I’m at another tea party. What is with nobles and tea parties? Why can’t they have a whiskey party or a hearty food party? It’s always gotta be tea…

His thoughts were interrupted as he saw Emma walking onto the grounds, and his breath hitched as he took in her slim figure in a scarlet red dress, with lots of little detailing. She looks gorgeous. Wow. Make way for the Lady in Red.

He waved her down. “Rose! Over here. I thought I’d be stuck drinking tea alone.”

She grinned at him as she approached the table, and his heart fluttered at the way her eyes shined brightly directly at him.

“Sadly for all of us, that’s not the case.” Olivia sits down beside Drake as the tea house’s staff begins carrying trays of tea cups and pots to each table. As Emma joins them, he looks around for Hana, but sees her with Xinghai and her two noble suiters, Neville and Rashad, close to the royal party’s table.

Alrighty then.

He slid his eyes over to Olivia. “Hmph. Did Madeleine send you to sit with us exiles?”

“Not as such, but there was only one other available table.” She nods at said table, where Penelope is eagerly chatting with Kiara. Her voice carries over the word “poodle” and Olivia shuddered.

“Your company seemed…marginally preferable.”

“Olivia, It’s okay. You can admit that we’re friends.” Emma broke in.

Once again, speak for yourself, Rose. She is not my friend.

Olivia’s mouth fell open, and Drake thought he saw the hint of a smile. “I…I just find you less insufferable than Penelope.”

Ha. Yup, definitely was a smile in disguise. “Coming from you, that’s like a confession of love.

“We’re basically besties.” Emma laughed, as Olivia rolled her eyes.

A server approaches with a kettle and tray. She carefully adds tea leaves to the pot and fills it with water. The server drains the first infusion into a pitcher, and after filling the tea pot again, pours the pitcher’s contents over its closed lid.

“Nooooo! Not my tea!” Maxwell races over to the table, looking stricken.

Emma rose an eyebrow. “Relax, Maxwell. It’s part of the service.”

“Oh, good. I thought my tea privileges were being revoked.”

“Not unless you’ve committed tea crimes you haven’t told us about.” She teased

“I wouldn’t hurt a leaf! Except by drinking it!” Maxwell chuckled at his own joke while everyone else just stared at him.

“Where on earth have you been?” Drake demanded. Leaving me here alone, leaving Emma to fend for herself, letting Olivia sit down, I could just go on. I deserve an explanation.

Maxwell looked at him like he had two heads. “Looking into Tariq’s whereabouts! We got a tip that he’s somewhere in Los Angeles. Hiding deep undercover.”

Drake scoffed. “That figures. He’s off living it up in Hollywood while you’re here cleaning up his mess.”

“I’ve started calling any menswear store whose price tags start at three figures, but since we’re on opposite sides of the Pacific…they’re all closed right now.”

“Oh. Thanks, time zones.” Emma frowned, and Drake took her hand under the table. She gives him a grateful smile.

“Don’t worry, I left them a bunch of voicemails. I told every store that if they don’t call me back as soon as they’re open, they’ll face the wrath of House Beaumont’s lawyers! I think Bertrand would be impressed.”

A look of surprised crossed Emma’s face. “We have lawyers now?”

“The stores that I called think we do!” Maxwell told her happily

Squeezing her hand lightly, Drake turned to face Emma. “How are you holding up, Rose? Now that we’re finally getting to the bottom of this whole mess?”

She scowled. “I am ready to throw a party when this is all over.”

“Just say the word and I’ll make it happen.” Maxwell jumped in excitedly

Oh boy, here we go. We definitely don’t need another Beaumont Bash…

“Whatever you’re picturing is probably too much party.” Drake informed.

Maxwell gasped. “There’s no such thing!”

The server finishes readying the second infusion of tea and pours each person a cup.

Maxwell takes a sip and his eyes widen. “Wow. I though top-shelf wine had layers, but this tea’s undertones have undertones.”

Drake sniffs his cup and takes a tentative sip. “Huh. Strong stuff.” This really isn’t so bad for tea. But still…coulda been a whiskey party…

“Is that a compliment?” Emma gasped.

He shrugged. “You’ve got to respect a drink that doesn’t pull its flavor punches.”

“I think it’s delightfully full-bodied.” Emma agreed.

“I’m surprised you like anything that didn’t come out of a little mesh bag.” Olivia smirked.

Emma chuckled. “Tea bags aren’t half bad. And they’re convenient.”

Olivia shook her head in disdain. “I’ll take a proper cup of tea like this any day.”

“Then it sounds like we’re going to need more.” Emma said, gesturing to the empty pitcher.

“Another!” Maxwell raises his tea cup over his head…

“If you break that, we’ll have to pay for it.” Emma acknowledged nervously.

Maxwell looks at her, then at his tea cup, and slowly sets it back on the table.

Holy shit. He actually listens to someone. I need to remember this for future reference. If anyone needs Maxwell to do something, just have Emma say it.

“Here. You can finish mine.” Drake handed him his cup.

“You’re a true friend, buddy.” Maxwell accepted.

Drake narrowed his eyes. “Don’t call me buddy.”

“You’re a true friend…friend?”

“My name is Drake.”

“Aww, look at you two. Getting along just like old times.” Emma teased them, obviously trying to get ahead of the situation and the dialogue Drake was sure he was about to start spewing.

Instead he sighed. “Yeah, yeah. No need to make a big thing out of it.”

“Are you sure? I’m feeling a group hug coming on…”

“There will be no hugging at this table.” Olivia’s voice cut through menacingly as she glared at the entire group.

“For once, I agree with Olivia.” I can’t believe I just said that. Can I take it back? No, damn, because then I would have to hug Maxwell…and Olivia…and Emma…okay, I’d love to hug Emma right now.

“…Maybe later.” Maxwell whispered loudly enough for all of them to hear.

Nope. I side with Olivia. 100% Team Olivia.

I’d better go check on Hana.” Emma announced abruptly, standing up and nodding towards where Hana is seated, as Neville and Rashad both stood and left their seats.

“I’ll keep them in line while you’re gone.” Olivia grinned.

Excuse me?? “Who died and left you in charge?”

Maxwell nodded in agreement frantically. “I didn’t vote for that!”

“I just expect everyone to be in one piece when I get back.” Emma makes her way between tables, not even glancing at them as she left.

I’m not even sure she heard us right now…

Olivia turns to Drake and Maxwell. “So, boys. Whatever should we do with ourselves? You can start by finding more tea. I do love more than one cup. Certainly one of you can handle this.”

“I uh…just remembered I have to go do that thing…” Maxwell started.

“Oh yeah, me too.” Drake chimed in.

“Oh, sorry, it’s really kind of private Drake. It’s the thing. In the place. That you…can’t go?” Maxwell darted away, and Drake’s jaw dropped as Olivia burst out laughing.

“I guess it’s you and me, commoner. And the tea. Go, shoo. Get the tea.”

“I’m not…getting…your tea.” Drake gritted out

Fucking Maxwell. I cannot believe he just did that!! Just leaving me here, again, alone, with fucking Olivia at my table. And he’s talking to Emma!! Damnit!!

Olivia begins speaking again, and Drake immediately tunes her out, watching Emma approach Hana and her father and wondering what they’re arguing about.

“I’m sure they’re not arguing about you, Drake. For some unknown reason, Emma has taken quite a liking to you. Hana’s got her own issues. She can’t handle them on her own, so she drags Emma along to help her speak.”

“Why would Rose be talking about me?” He questioned.

“I just she wasn’t. What, are you deaf too?”

Drake was about to return a snappy comeback when Emma plopped back down beside him.

“That could’ve gone better.”

He turned to her, full of worry. “What happened? We saw Hana leave.”

Emma sighed. “She and her dad got into a fight. She actually told him she wasn’t interested in Neville. I’m not sure if me being there made things better or worse...”

Drake’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, good for her. It’s about time she told her parents to lay off.”

Olivia tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Interesting. It seems she’s discovering a backbone.”

Maxwell sauntered back over as well, and guests start rising from their tables as the servers clear the tea trays away. They begin forming a line into the garden with King Liam waiting at the front.

Emma watched with curiosity. “Where’s everyone going? Are we line-dancing now?”

Olivia blinked. “This is a court, not a barn.”

Maxwell shook his head. “I think we’re just supposed to pay our respects to King Liam before we leave.”

Ugh, I just want to go. “Leave it to the court to turn saying goodbye into a ceremony.” He grumbled, getting up and leaving the table. Everyone else can say their goodbyes. Drake is heading back to the hotel to find himself a nice hard drink.

We’re leaving for New York tomorrow. Back where everything began. Back where we met. Back where…Back where Maxwell chose her for Liam…Yup. I’m hitting the bottle tonight.

@annekebbphotography @carabeth @gardeningourmet @eileendannie @dancetothestoriesinyoursoul @alesana45 @thequeenofcronuts @zigortega4life @drakewalkerfantasy

@hrhdes @drakewalkerisreal @akrenich @feartheendlesssummer @moonlightgem7 @i-miss-trr @noey718-blog @snyggflicka @rhymesmenagerie @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @crookedslimecreatorpasta @be-still-my-aching-heart

#drake's diary #drake x emma #drake walker fanfic #the royal romance fanfic #drake x mc #drake walker #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #playchoices #choices stories you play #trr drake #trr fanfic #choices trr #trr

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ilovemygaydad · 5 years

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Friends in Dark Places [ch 12]

pairing: moxiety, eventual logince, background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

WARNINGS: sensory overload, panic attacks, self hate, school dances, swearing, food mentions, kissing, embarrassment, rumors, eating, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: so i have to repost all of these in a different format! yay fucking me!!!! please consider reblogging these if you’re a fan of this series because it’s all fucked up now

first - previous - next - companions

consider buying me a coffee (please)

“So, Virgil. Are you going to prom?” Roman casually asked before popping a french fry in his mouth.

“Um, I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on it.” Virgil absently dipped a chicken nugget into the pool of ranch on his tray. He really hadn’t thought about prom that much. Plus, the thought of a whole bunch of his peers stuck in one room together, probably grinding with their respective dates, was not a pleasant one.

“Awww, kiddo! You should go! You could come with us; we’re going to grab dinner and everything,” Patton whined.

“I mean, I guess?” Virgil grimaced as he weighed the options. “But don’t I have to rent a tux? I don’t have money for that, especially not after what happened on Monday. I’d be surprised to find my credit card still working with all of that in mind.”

Logan jumped into the conversation. “You would have to rent a tux, yes, but the three of us would be more than happy to help cover your expenses. We value you as a member of our friend group, and we wouldn’t exclude you from something just because you couldn’t afford it.”

Virgil opened his mouth to argue, but Roman interjected, “Dude, seriously. Just let us do this for you. It’ll be fun!”

“Plus, Ro already bought you a ticket,” Logan added and held out a small slip of cardstock. Westview Junior Prom.

Well, Virgil Thomas was now going to prom.

---

“Hey, Pat? Can you help me with my tie?” Virgil called from his bathroom. He had been struggling for the past five minutes trying to figure out the witchcraft behind ties, and he still had zero clue as to what he was supposed to be doing.

“Be right there, kiddo!” It was only a few moments before soft footsteps could be heard approaching, and Patton walked into the bathroom. He’d already mostly finished getting ready sans the fact that his hair was a catastrophic mess. Virgil could guess that he’d been trying to fix it when he’d been called into the other room.

“Alright. Work your magic,” Virgil smirked. In a matter of seconds, Patton had looped and pulled the tie into place, gently tightening it around Virgil’s neck. It was deep purple, picked out specifically because of his dislike of most other colors, and it went very well with the blues and reds of the others’ ties. The tie also matched the freshly dyed purple hair that Roman had forced his three friends to do along with him earlier that afternoon. What an ass.

Virgil admired his reflection. “Dude, what the fuck? How did you do that?” He felt oddly confident in his skin. The same feeling had come about a few times since he’d met Patton, and he had to admit that it was nice. Pat’s happy-go-lucky attitude somehow perfectly meshed with Virgil’s own doom-and-gloom one, forming a hilariously compatible friendship.

Patton smiled and ruffled Virgil hair, much to the other’s dismay. “Now that I helped you, will you please fix my hair.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“I mean it, Virge! Look at this.” Pat ran his fingers through his hair and aggressively tugged when he reached a clump of knots.

“Okay, yeah, we’re fixing that right now.”

---

“Dinner? Really, Patton? You guys couldn’t have told me about this before?” Virgil whined as the four walked into the diner. Yes, a diner, which meant that they were ridiculously overdressed; every other patron was wearing some sort of flannel and jeans combo. It smelled great, sure, but it was so unexpected that he couldn’t help but feel on edge.

“It’s our favorite restaurant,” Logan explained. “We always come here before school events. Roman has coined it as some sort of weird ritual, but it’s mostly tradition.” He led Virgil to the booth that Patton and Roman had already rushed to sit in.

“Plus, we’re friends with the staff,” Ro started with a smile. “You’ll love them; they’re all super nice. Speaking of, here comes Emilia.”

A young lady with brown hair walked up to their table, pulling out her small notepad. “Well, who do we have here? Another addition to our little group of customers of the month for every month since 2014?”

“Hey, Emilia!” Patton said. “This is Virgil; he’s a new friend of ours. He’s been living with me for a few weeks while his dad is out of the country on business.”

“That’s sweet, Patton. Now, what can I get for you guys?”

The three regulars spouted off their orders, clearly versed in what they wanted to eat. Suddenly, all eyes turned to Virgil. He’d barely been able to look over the menu in the time the others had taken to order.

“Uh… I… Um…” He stuttered. Every drop of intelligence that he had in his body was gone in an instant, and he was left a bumbling mess.

“He’ll have a cheeseburger and fries, thanks,” Patton cut in, saving his friend from any further embarrassment.

“Alright! I’ll be back in a few with your food and a pitcher of water!” Emilia gave the boys another smile before she walked back behind the counter to tend to other customers. Almost immediately, Patton and Roman launched themselves into a fast paced discussion about the upcoming festivities. Virgil, unsurprisingly, not only felt anxious, but he also felt like a complete idiot. He was just ordering dinner--there was no reason for him to have been so freaked out.

Virgil felt a hand rest on his left shoulder, turning to see Logan with a worried expression etched on his face. “Are you okay? Do you need to step outside for a moment to regain composure? I’d be willing to go with you if you don’t want to be alone.”

“Uh, no. I’m okay. I’m just a little worried. I mean, this is my first proper school event in, like, ever, and it’s freaking intimidating. You guys go to these things multiple times a year?” Virgil ran his hands through his hair, distressed.

“I understand. When Roman and Patton first made me come with them to homecoming, I was so nervous that I nearly passed out on the way here. Thankfully, I wasn’t driving us everywhere back then otherwise that would’ve ended in a disaster.” Logan gave Virgil a small smile, adding to the tiny--yet slowly growing--list of his outward displays of emotion. Virgil knew Lo wasn’t an emotionless android, but Roman and Patton were so all over the place that someone needed to play the calm and collected one.

“They can be pretty intense,” Virgil commented with a smile at the enthusiastic conversation across the table from them. Both of the teens were grinning and flinging their hands around in wild gestures, barely avoiding impact.

“Yeah, they sure can.” Logan glanced at the other side of the table with a fond expression, but he quickly snapped out of his reverie. “Don’t worry about the dance. Oh, here!” He pulled a pair of earbuds out of his inside jacket pocket and held them out to Virgil. “It gets pretty loud at these dances. I’ve observed that you put on headphones when it gets too noisy, so I brought these just in case you didn’t have your own.”

Virgil pocketed them just as Emilia finally returned with their food. The other three immediately began to dig in while he hesitantly poked at his burger. He picked up a fry and lazily popped it into his mouth.

He picked at his fries for a few minutes, but he eventually worked his way up to taking a bite of his burger. “Holy shit! This stuff is great--wait, why haven’t you taken me here yet?”

“I was trying to ease you into our friend group, so I thought eating dinner at my house would save you some unnecessary interaction,” Pat explained. “Obviously, that was a crime against your taste buds.”

“Of course it was, Patton. Depriving anyone of this blessed food is practically a war crime!” Roman dramatically stated, throwing out his arms. Virgil snorted at the theatrics.

They continued to eat, and all but Virgil had finished their dinner when Emilia returned to their table for dessert orders. Logan ordered a slice of pecan pie for himself, a chocolate lava cake for Roman, a hot fudge sundae for Patton, and a caramel shake for Virgil. Patton, of course, began to spout off a review of all of the desserts they’d ordered, even though Virgil wouldn’t be eating most of them. They all listened politely, not really absorbing any of the information, until their orders arrived. Within a nanosecond, Pat’s face was stuffed full of vanilla ice cream and fudge sauce, easily and efficiently shutting him up.

They ate in near silence, save for the “light” discussion of whether cake or pie was better (Patton eventually had to cut in when Roman threatened Logan with a butterknife). Pat covered the whole bill once they’d finished, claiming “it’s my way of thanking you guys for putting up with my shenanigans.”

---

“Three, two, one!” Roman dramatically counted as he threw the doors to the venue open. Time seemed to freeze as the four friends stepped in; all eyes snapped to them. It had been days since they’d been the topic of gossip at school, but that didn’t mean the student body had lost their interest in the boys.

Roman was at the front of the group, confidently striding to the grand staircase and adjusting his red tie. Logan followed close behind, who looked absolutely stunning in the sharp suit and deep blue tie. Then was Patton, who was marveling at the cascading flower vines and glittering fairy lights. And last but certainly not least…

Virgil. He had a wary smile on his face, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks. The boy made absolutely sure that he didn’t get lost; he kept eyes on Patton the entire time they descended the stairs.

Logan had been right; it was fucking loud. People were screaming left and right, and the music was so loud that Virgil could feel every beat vibrate in his chest. He was lucky that he’d put the earbuds in before they’d arrived, or he never would have stepped inside the venue.

Patton turned around to check on Virgil, obviously sensing the tension building in his friend. He held out his hand for Virgil, who hesitated for just a moment before gently taking it. If people wanted to believe they were together, that wasn’t his problem. It was no skin off his back.

They talked and danced for what felt like hours, and Virgil even joined in on a few of the dances he knew. He was having fun. He smiled and laughed, and it was all genuine! In just a few short weeks, Patton had actually transformed him from a suicidal nightmare into someone who found joy in life. It was a stupid sentiment, and he knew it, but it still brought Virgil a bit of warmth in his chest.

The DJ announced a slow dance. Ugh, how awful. He had nobody to dance with; it was just—

Oh.

Patton tugged Virgil’s hand lightly, pulling their bodies closer together. “Wanna dance? We don’t have to, of course, but it would be a fun first experience for both of us!”

“I—Uh, sure,” Virgil mumbled, trying to hide his gently growing blush. Pat gently guided Virgil’s hands around his neck and placed his own on Virgil’s waist. For the first time, Virgil noticed that he was just an inch or so taller than his friend. Reveling in the warmth and closeness, the two swayed together to the gentle rhythm.

The song ended, and Virgil stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets. He was extremely grateful that the low light hid his pink cheeks. The screaming resumed as couples broke apart, and early 2000s rap boomed out of the speakers.

And then just like that, Virgil was attacked by anxiety. His hands started shaking, and he rushed away from the small group he was in, mumbling something about going to the bathroom. He calmed slightly when he had made it outside, where he simply collapsed to the ground, but then his panic picked up again when he realized how fucking alone he was always going to be.

Nobody would love the weird guy who rushes out on social gatherings for no fucking reason! Why should they? Virgil had nothing to offer; he was just a guy who had snark to rival Roman and barely two cents to his name.

Tears streamed down his face, running in dark gray streaks as they mixed with his black eye makeup. He could feel his chest heaving, but little air actually made it into his body. Everything was working overtime yet nothing actually happened. Virgil stayed sobbing on the ground. Nothing. Changed.

“Virge, honey? Do you need me to call my mom and have her pick us up?” Patton slowly lowered himself next to Virgil, talking softly so that he woudn’t stir up anything worse.

“N-No! I’ll… I’ll… Fuck!” Virgil cried as he ripped the earbuds out of his ears. He threw the cord a few feet away, instantly regretting it as the sound of shattering plastic reached his ears. He’d have to buy Logan new ones. He couldn’t afford to replace them.

“Goodness gracious, Virgil. It’s okay. I’m going to call Logan, and we’re going to get you out of here—“

“I-I-I don’t… want t-t-to… ruin… night…” Virgil sputtered. He was having trouble pushing the words out; all of them got stuck in his throat.

Patton carefully began to comb through Virgil’s hair with his fingers in an attempt to soothe the attack. “Don’t worry about that, kiddo. There isn’t much more fun to be had, anyway. We still love you—I still love you.”

That’s it. That’s what he felt. Love. He loved Patton.

All of the impulse control he had—though, truthfully, there was very little to begin with—left his body. He reached out and brought Pat’s face to his own, lightly kissing him. Patton stiffened for a fraction of a second before relaxing into the kiss. They were both going to regret this later, but what did that matter in the moment?

#sanders sides fic #moxiety #logince #m writes things #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders

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ilovemygaydad · 5 years

Text

Friends in Dark Places [remastered, ch 12]

pairing: moxiety, eventual logince, background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

WARNINGS: sensory overload, panic attacks, self hate, school dances, swearing, food mentions, kissing, embarrassment, rumors, eating, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: jsyk, it’s totally okay to ask for a modified chapter if you need it or if i need to add tags! i get it, and it’s no problem for me to quick edit a chapter or whatever :) also, feel free to send requests or questions that you have!

a/n 2: :)

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 -chapter 7 - chapter 8 - chapter 9 - chapter 10 - chapter 11 - chapter 13

companion fics: exes and ‘oh’s

consider buying me a coffee

“So, Virgil. Are you going to prom?” Roman casually asked before popping a french fry in his mouth.

“Awww, kiddo! You should go! You could come with us; we’re going to grab dinner and everything,” Patton whined.

Virgil opened his mouth to argue, but Roman interjected, “Dude, seriously. Just let us do this for you. It’ll be fun!”

“Plus, Ro already bought you a ticket,” Logan added and held out a small slip of cardstock. Westview Junior Prom.

Well, Virgil Thomas was now going to prom.

---

Patton smiled and ruffled Virgil hair, much to the other’s dismay. “Now that I helped you, will you please fix my hair.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“I mean it, Virge! Look at this.” Pat ran his fingers through his hair and aggressively tugged when he reached a clump of knots.

“Okay, yeah, we’re fixing that right now.”

---

“Plus, we’re friends with the staff,” Ro started with a smile. “You’ll love them; they’re all super nice. Speaking of, here comes Emilia.”

“Hey, Emilia!” Patton said. “This is Virgil; he’s a new friend of ours. He’s been living with me for a few weeks while his dad is out of the country on business.”

“That’s sweet, Patton. Now, what can I get for you guys?”

“Uh… I… Um…” He stuttered. Every drop of intelligence that he had in his body was gone in an instant, and he was left a bumbling mess.

“He’ll have a cheeseburger and fries, thanks,” Patton cut in, saving his friend from any further embarrassment.

He picked at his fries for a few minutes, but he eventually worked his way up to taking a bite of his burger. “Holy shit! This stuff is great--wait, why haven’t you taken me here yet?”

“Of course it was, Patton. Depriving anyone of this blessed food is practically a war crime!” Roman dramatically stated, throwing out his arms. Virgil snorted at the theatrics.

---

The DJ announced a slow dance. Ugh, how awful. He had nobody to dance with; it was just—

Oh.

Patton tugged Virgil’s hand lightly, pulling their bodies closer together. “Wanna dance? We don’t have to, of course, but it would be a fun first experience for both of us!”

“Virge, honey? Do you need me to call my mom and have her pick us up?” Patton slowly lowered himself next to Virgil, talking softly so that he woudn’t stir up anything worse.

“Goodness gracious, Virgil. It’s okay. I’m going to call Logan, and we’re going to get you out of here—“

“I-I-I don’t… want t-t-to… ruin… night…” Virgil sputtered. He was having trouble pushing the words out; all of them got stuck in his throat.

That’s it. That’s what he felt. Love. He loved Patton.

chapter 13

#sanders sides fic #moxiety #logince #m writes things #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders

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