princey face

I Didn’t Choose to be Anxiety (Prinxiety)

Writing is hard, especially when you’re sick. Anyways, have this angsty fic I wrote while avoiding writing another fic

Thomas had barely slept in days and he was basically running off of anxiety, caffeine, and 20 minute naps. Everyone has tried to get him to sleep for at least a few hours, but they all failed. They’ve also been trying to figure out the cause of all of this and now, about 3 days later when Patton finally managed to get Thomas to sleep, they finally did.

Roman knocked on Virgil’s door and waited a few seconds for a response.

No response came.

Keep reading

Come Find Me VIII

So, I hope you like this chapter.

Tag list: @planetahmane @wingedchickadee @netzoflix  @sister-sage
@iaminmultiplefandoms  @loonierlovegood  @aaliyahadams1738 @doggo-fiends-on-a-spaceship @snickerz171 @the-laarmy @orhaven02 @aperfectcontradiction @tickleesdream @1dcrazy14   @onemorebookidontneed @justphantasia @zoeyheys @liberalautisticnerd831 @alzac-saber @the-sanders-sides @fugitive-angel @starrykid @thebaagelboy @reallysaltypotato@justanotherpurplebutterfly@gottajett03@andy-the-anon​  @satisfied-sanders-sides​  @virgils-old-sweater@twettypuff@virgils-jacket@winds-and-stardust@greyzipupjacket@romananalogicality@captainswan618@cochroachkappa-blog@queer-ax@mevv618@thebrightsilverlining@i-prayed-to-you-cas-every-night

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

Roman wished he could say that he’d been able to sense that something had been wrong, and that was why he had chosen to go downstairs in the middle of the night. However, the truth was that he had simply been restless, unable to sleep after all the uneasy realizations of the day.

As such, he had decided to go and make himself some hot chocolate, hoping that the comforting treat would ease his troubled mind. However, after he’d placed his mug in the sink and had turned to go, he heard a noise.

It sounded like a whimper, or a choked off groan. Concerned, Roman paused, listening carefully. After a minute, there was another sound, a muffled smack, followed by a soft curse. Now, having figured out where it was coming from, Roman made his way to the downstairs toilet.

The door wasn’t locked, or even closed, so Roman was easily able to see the dark figure inside hunched over the toilet.

“Anxiety,” he called softly, but not without urgency. “Are you well? What has happened”

Anxiety groaned.

“Go ‘way, Princey, ‘m fine,” he mumbled, a statement that was rendered much less effective by the fact that he still had his forehead pressed against the rim of the toilet.

“If you seriously think I’m going to believe that, you’re as delusional as you always accuse me of being,” Roman informed him stepping closer. “Just tell me what happened.”

“Nothing, just leave me alone.”

Anxiety’s tone was plaintive, but Roman had no plans of heeding his request. Instead he crouched down next to the other side.

“Did you throw up?” he asked, voicing his suspicion. Anxiety didn’t reply, but his grimace as he turned away was more than answer enough.

“This can sometimes happen,” Roman was quick to reassure him. “And you hadn’t eaten in quite awhile. I do find myself somewhat surprised though, I hadn’t though any of the foods I’d prepared would have been heavy enough to upset your stomach.”

He then paused. Wait. He’d been too tired and worried to question it, but why Anxiety downstairs this late at night?

“Anxiety,” he began carefully, not wanting to sound to accusatory, lest Anxiety grow angry and refuse to answer. “Did you come down here for something to eat?”

“So what if I did,” Anxiety snapped, and well, so much for not making him angry. “It’s a not crime. Beside, I though eating would be a good, thing all things considering.”

“While I am happy that you seem to be recovering your appetite,” Roman replied, “the fact remains, that you are not out of the woods yet, and as such, maintaining a proper diet is more imperative than ever. Now, what it exactly was it that you ate?”

“Leave me alone,” Anxiety growled, or at least attempted to. He sounded a bit too miserable to really pull it off. Roman was unimpressed. Still he did want an answer.

Then a burst of inspiration struck.

“Tell me and I’ll help you back upstairs,” he offered with a sly grin. Judging by Anxiety’s current state, there was no way he could make it back up the stairs on his own, in fact, Roman was surprised he’d even made it down them. So, unless he wanted to be stuck here all night, he had to accept Roman’s offer.

Anxiety glared at him.

“I don’t need your help,” he hissed.

Roman rolled his eyes.

“You obviously do,” he pointed out. “I mean just look how badly you’re shaking. So unless you still want to be here when Morality comes down to make breakfast and have him ask all sorts of awkward questions, you should probably just take the deal.”

“I hate you,” Anxiety grumbled, but as Roman continued to stare at him, he finally gave in.

“Fine,” he muttered, before glaring even harder, “But if you ever tell anyone about this-“

“Death and torment till the end of my days,” Roman said idly, “I get the picture Doom and Gloom. Now wrap your arms around my neck.”

With that he easily scooped up Anxiety into a princess carry. And after a slight bit of finagling to turn out the light, he made his way upstairs and to Anxiety’s room.

As he set the other side down on the bed, Roman ran a quick eye over him. While Anxiety didn’t look quite as bad as when Roman had woken him up in the morning, he still looked awful, far too pale, tremors throughout his body, and and an overall pallor of exhaustion. Not to mention he looked slightly nauseous, likely from his stomach’s recent upset.

“So,” Roman said casually, “What food did you make the poor choice of partaking in?”

For a minute, he thought Anxiety was going to back on their deal as he bristled, but after a moment he deflated, turning his head to the side before mumbling.

“I got some pizza from the fridge and a can of Sprite.”

Roman’s brain stalled for a moment, trying to process the frankly ludicrous sentence he has just heard.

“Pizza and Sprite!” he spluttered. “Those are some of the worst choices you could have made! You need food that stays in your stomach, not heavy greasy foods like pizza. And soda! Why on earth would you think that was a good idea.”

“It was Sprite” Anxiety replied defensively, “Isn’t it supposed to settle your stomach?”

“That’s ginger ale,” Roman said with exasperation. “Although I suppose on hearing that little mix up, I can forgive you for that choice at least. The pizza, however, still shows exceptionally poor judgement. What were you thinking?”

“Well, I didn’t know I was going to throw up,” Anxiety said. “I’d already gotten food in my stomach so the worst of it was over. It’s not like I’ve ever had this much trouble before.”

Roman opened his mouth to continue his lecture, before the last bit of Anxiety’s sentence gave him pause.

“What do you mean before?” he asked suspiciously. “Have you done this more than once?”

“I mean, not this bad,” Anxiety muttered. ‘But you know, I miss meals ever so often. Shit happens. I’m just used to it.”

“But why?” Roman knew he sounded like he was begging, but at this point he didn’t care. Something was deeply wrong with Anxiety, had apparently been wrong for quite some time, and he didn’t understand how none of them had noticed. “I just don’t understand. Why hide yourself away? Why skip meals? Explain it to me.”

Anxiety scoffed.

“Like you fucking care,” he said, but before he could say more, Roman cut him off.

“Yes, I do,” he said insistently. “I really do. Because, Anxiety, this isn’t okay. You know that right? That this isn’t okay? Because this isn’t healthy.”

Anxiety was staring down at his clenched fists.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he finally replied.

“Then explain it to me!” Roman implored. “Maybe I can help.”

Anxiety gave a huff of disbelief.

“You can’t help,” he said, his words resounding like a cold statement of fact. “You know why? It’s because you’re too damned perfect. Always happy, always off on some adventure. You live off in lala land where your biggest problem is figuring out what new fun thing you’’re going to do that day. So what could you possibly know about me, or about how I feel? Let’s face it, Princey, you couldn’t understand if your life depended on it. So just go be someone else’s hero. At least you’ll be able to save them.”

Roman felt cold as Anxiety’s words washed over him. He sounded so sure of what he was saying, and so resigned to it. Roman knew if he walked away now, he would never be able to get though to Anxiety never again. This was his one shot.

Keeping that in mind, he mustered up his courage, took a deep breath, and looked Anxiety dead in the eye.

“That might not be as true you think it is.”


My extraself, photobombing the candids


Shoutout to the meme, the myth, the legend: Kelly (pictured)! She helped to take the photos. I also want to shoutout Bianca (not pictured) who followed us out in the New England cold for moral support. They both are the best!

Funny story about Kelly: she didn’t even really know what we were dressed as and was confused the entire time until Kai explained it to her when we went back inside.

Bianca thought that I looked like Prince Eric and insisted that I was the prince to her Ariel. (I was chill with it, though she said that I was a bad prince for stepping on her tail. XD)

Title: A night time conversation

Pairings: Thomas Sanders/Logan Sanders (platonic), Logicality (hinted), Moxiety (only mentioned) Prinxiety (hinted), Thomas/tumblr (explicit)

Fandom: Sanders Sides [Thomas Sanders]

A/N: this is my first contribution to the TSS fandom. This fic is not edited so please forgive the errors.

This is so self indulgent I’m sorry.


It’s a quiet and peaceful night. Thomas is settled in bed and scrolling through tumblr on his phone. The clock at the corner reads 12 midnight but sleep has yet to take over him.

He’s in the middle of reblogging something that made him crack a smile when he feels another presence in the room.

“Logic!” The phone is out of his hand in a second. “I was just about to go to sleep. I swear.”

The neck tie wearing aspect doesn’t respond. And it’s in that moment where Thomas notices the off look on the other’s face.

Keep reading

Prompt 2

Can someone make a fic where Thomas is like. Y'all. Yuri on Ice has inspired me to go ice skating.

Cut to the Sides and Thomas trying to ice skate

Virgil pretends he’s all bad at it and whatnot, as the others are genuinely bad at it, and when Roman is the first of them to learn how to skate properly without falling over every three seconds, he brags about it and it pisses Virgil off so Virgil’s like “I can do better” And Roman’s like “MHM PROVE IT” and Virgil just fuckin busts out a whole skating routine just to rub it in Roman’s face that Princey sucks compared to Anxiety

I’m sorry I just love the idea of Virgil being a graceful angel on the ice and n o o n e k n o w s until Roman makes him salty

//tagging @xxxamerican-psychoxxx

Fanfiction Lords please I need

Continued from

@side-chara-cter ;

He just looks up with a bout f confusion before realizing they were gesturing at him. “Wait, wha– Hey! I’m not an asshole. What makes you say I’m an asshole?”

And there goes the boy, getting really defensive with his pretty much only friend. Face it, Princey boy, you’re kind of an asshole.

 “Uh…”, they’re just going to lower their head, apologetically.

“You’re right. Sorry, ‘twas stupid. Y’ain’t an asshole.”

“Yer The Asshole.”

Quiet like the snow |Wastelands|
  • Midas:
  • I held on feeling sick as the ship tumbled and groaned before diving bombing down. I squeezed my eyes shut at the noises that followed and gripped the bar tighter.
  • It was no surprise Desiree would have zero respect for me. After all Ashely was not well received nowadays since Desmond has been lord. She has been trying to get back at us for her mother and I’m afraid I was playing into her hand quiet well.
  • I tried to unlock the cuffs they put on me but It was rather useless. Every time I was getting somewhere something happened. It was a living nightmare out here.
  • “What now!” I whined not expecting anyone to answer me.
  • (Cue): “We got shot down..”
  • Desire’s grandson , Cupid answered but I could not tell if it was a mock or a genuine response.
  • “By WHO!” I snap only to be shushed by quite a few upset faces as wings passed over the ship. It was already patched up from so many attacks I was not sure it would hold.
  • Hags?
  • Desiree seemed to relax at the sight.
  • (Desiree): “That’s just one of the wall crew , Daylore.. bitch went crazy and is wearing some poor bird’s wings. She stole from Laxtown a few times but we can handle her…don’t worry ‘Princey’..”
  • Cupid pressed his face to the window and snickered.
  • (Cue): “She’s picking something up in that big snow pile.. looks like a avalanche..”
  • I squint and see her collecting light swords from the monks bodies. She turns on the moon light a few times and mumbles something about where she wants to shove the sword at.
  • (Desiree): “We need to get rid of her before she comes and 'picks' here.. Cue take Midas to the lower level where its safer.. cant loose the bait. This is going to get ugly...we are NOT loose this ship too.."
  • I glare at her but follow Cue down unsure what to do till Dad finds me. Escaping outside did not seem wise.