Hey, @inalandofmythandtimeofmagic do you remember that post you made about Patton and Roman glowing when Thomas has a crush? The one @ts-sideblog added some really cool gifs to? Yeah, here you go. A thing based off of that.
Tip Jar
Warnings: None I can think of. 785 words.
Abstract: Anxiety and Logic are about to be annoyed beyond words.
Anxiety paused. He listened. Oh dear God in heaven. No.
He teleported. The sound was still there. It was everywhere.
He knocked on the door of the office, desperate.
“Who is it?” Said the voice from inside. “I am not permitting entrance!”
“Its me, Logan! They’re at it again and I can’t do anything about it! Let me in!”
The door swung open and Logic pulled Anxiety in quickly before slamming the office door shut again.
Anxiety retreated to the window.
“No. Do not touch me.” He said semi-cowering.
“My apologies. In my distress I forgot you do not like physical contact.” Logan said, adjusting his tie.
“He thought we were weird but I’m not allowed to say anything.” Anxiety grumbled, sitting on the clear space on Logan’s desk.
“Oh no.” Logic said, removing his glasses and rubbing his face.
The noise came again. Both non romantic traits froze.
“Anxiety, was I the only one that heard that?” Logic asked as his mouth went dry.
“The squealing? No. I heard it too.”
There was dead silence.
For one beat. Then two.
Anxiety tried to focus on reality. Logan did the same. The smell of books. The little American rainbow pride flag on the desk. The poster of the dog in the corner. Anything but the inevitable storm that was coming.
But it came.
The door jiggled. Logan took a step closer to Anxiety. Anxiety took a step closer to Logan and pulled his hood down over his eyes. There was no escape. They were cornered.
The door burst open in a flash of blinding pink and white. Anxiety and Logic looked in horror at the other two sides that were standing there.
Roman was glowing bright white. Patton was glowing pink.
Morality squealed and ran in.
“No Patton! Not the touch- AH!” Anxiety yelled right before he was grabbed into a death grip.
“Can you believe it!?” Roman yelled. “He was so charming I can’t contain myself!”
The over enthusiastic prince pulled the teacher into a death grip hug of his own. If Logic were ever to be on the verge of tears, well, Anxiety guessed that this is what it looked like.
“He’s so cute! I think he likes Thomas!” Patton yelled, jumping up and down with Anxiety smushed in his arms.
“Mralty, ‘e isn’t..” Anxiety started through a mouthful of polo shirt.
“You cannot say anything right now!” Roman yelled. “This is our happily ever after!”
“Oh, mercy.” Logic said desperately.
The light was beginning to become unbearable.
“‘Ats guin an? I Cann’t see.” Anxiety said, still pressed forcefully into Patton’s chest and awkwardly leaning over.
“It is too bright to tell.” Logan said, wishing with every fiber of their being that this would end soon.
A frantic conversation was going above their heads. Morality and Prince jumped and squealed, knocking around the two unromantic traits in the process.
Anxiety’s face got free with the latest fanboy jump and Morality dropped him. All Anxiety could see was pink. It hurt so bad.
“Logic, did he drop you too?”
“Yes, but I can barely hear you over all the screeching. Fair warning. I am going to attempt to find you by touch.”
They crawled around on the floor and Anxiety found a familiar hand.
“Logan?”
“Correct.”
“Which way is the desk?”
“Come this way. We’re right next to it.”
Logan led anxiety under his desk and towards the door. The light became slightly less intense and they began to regain their eyesight, but that didn’t last long.
Logic felt himself being wrapped into another embrace. This time the arms were uncovered and the light was hot pink. The air smelled of cotton candy. This was Patton. Patton was even more impossible to escape than Roman.
Logic tried to say something but then noticed he couldn’t. Oh, so the two of them really were in charge right now. He and Anxiety had gone mute. Great.
Logan looked around. He saw a faint outline of one man holding another while the other held his fist to his face in a type of body language Logic was pretty sure conveyed boredom or annoyance.
“And his eyes!” Yelled Roman for the umpteenth time, making Morality squeal yet again.
“Ohmygoshhe’ssocuteIcan’teven” Morality said all at once, pulling Logic in tighter and physically hurting him.
“Ah!” Roman exclaimed in response, crashing into Morality and Logan.
Anxiety sighed as he felt Logic’s glasses press into his face. Logic sighed in turn as they were both forced to jump with the others in delight and the lights only grew brighter.
Sorry for the spelling/grammar errors, this was written quite late at night.
First fic, I hope you enjoy!
There were times when all of Virgil’s fears and worries got to him and when these times would come, he would normally make sure to stay in his room to prevent the others feeling pity or disgust for him.
However, hiding away in his room didn’t seem like it was going to be an option; Patton had begun to check on Virgil every so often and had told Virgil that if he wanted to talk he’d be there. Virgil had ignored this, but Patton’s frequent checks were becoming annoying, so Virgil was going to have to do something about it.
Patton’s door was a pale blue and was covered in stickers, mainly butterflies and hearts. Virgil had planned on knocking, but that didn’t seem possible without touching a sticker, which could result in them falling off and being ruined and then Patton would be mad and nobody would ever speak to him ever again and Virgil would die sad and alone.
Just as Virgil was about to return to his room the door opened and Patton had a look of surprise that was quickly replaced with a smile. Patton was only being polite, Virgil reminded himself, he wasn’t really happy to see him, he just felt obligated to be kind to everyone, even people like Virgil.
“Hey, kiddo! What did you come to visit me for?” Patton’s speech was more rushed that it usually was, normally Virgil would write it off as Patton just not wanting to talk to him for very long but the reddened eyes suggested otherwise.
After muttering something about wanting to talk Virgil was led into the washed-out looking room, something was definitely wrong with Patton.
“So what did you want to talk about?” Patton’s question startled Virgil, he’d forgotten that Patton was there and what he’d come there for.
He couldn’t tell Patton the original reason, because then they’d talk about that and Patton would still be sad, but if he asked Patton what was wrong he’d seem weird and Patton might not answer. It would be best to talk about something light at first and then try to find out what was bothering Patton, even if it didn’t work Virgil hoped he could at least cheer up Patton slightly with the conversation.
“I,uh, found some pictures of dogs that I thought you’d want to see.” Virgil was really struggling to see how that was the best excuse that he could come up with, however, Patton did seem happy at the idea of seeing some dogs and Virgil did have some dog pictures on his phone already, so it couldn’t go too badly.
After a while of looking at far more pictures of dogs than Virgil thought he had saved and Patton then rating them (all ten out of ten, of course), Patton seemed to be happier and the room seemed slightly brighter than it had been when Virgil had entered. Virgil awkwardly said goodbye and returned to his room, noticing that there were less stickers on the door and that most of them were now dog related.
Virgil still had his worries, but after spending time looking at dogs with Patton, he didn’t feel quite as bad. His main concern was now about Logan being mad with him for causing Patton to think about dogs, although Logan may suspect Roman instead, especially considering how it was the Prince, who had broken the short-lived ban on showing Patton pictures of dogs (Virgil was going to but he wasn’t quick enough).
Virgil’s theory was proven correct later on when he heard Logan and Roman arguing with Patton’s laughter in the background and the word dog being said far too much.
//ayyy its Sky here with another Hamilton shot. Thanks for the suggestion @prinxietys\
~Ship: Prinxiety~
The king tapped his foot impatiently, letting out a huff of indignation as he stared at the door to the throne room. Around him, he felt the nervous tension from the guards, and let a small smirk slip from his lips.
Suddenly, through the door burst the scribe he’d ordered a whole three minutes ago. King Roman sat up finally, and let out a dramatic sigh.
“Finally! Chop chop, get ready to write.” The king cleared his throat and waited for the boy to prepare his quill and parchment, enjoying the way the boy in black fumbled with everything, dark circles under his eyes shining with exhaustion. Only when he was ready did the king speak.
“You say…the price of my love’s not a price you’re willing to pay.” The king stood, spotted cloak rolling down behind him. He took a few steps, pacing as he spoke.
“You cry~…in your tea which you hurl in the sea as you see me go by.” King Roman took a few steps towards the scribe, whose white cheeks became dusted in a faint blush as he scribbled the words down quickly.
“Why so sad? Remember, we made an arrangement when you went away.” The king flipped his cloak as he walked, having a flair for the dramatic.
“Now you’re making me mad. Remember despite our…estrangement, I’m your man~”
The king undid the cloak, letting it fall to the floor to show him in his formal red suit, totally not symbolizing anything at all.
“You’ll be back. Soon you’ll see. You’ll remember you belong to me~” He sent a small wink the scribe’s direction, whose blush only worsened as he tried to focus on writing.
“You’ll be back. Time will tell. You’ll remember that I served you well.” The king walked among his guard, smirk fading from his face.
“Oceans rise. Empires fall. We have seen each other through it all.” He hooked an arm around one of the guards shoulders, dragging him into a headlock. The guard didn’t fight back.
“And when push comes to shove. I will send a fully armed battalion to remind you of my love!” The king pranced around the throne room, pulling the scribe into a dance. Ink spilled on the floor and over the half-filled parchment as the poor boy dropped everything to be dragged around with his king.
“You say our love is draining and you can’t go on~” The king pulled the scribe close, smirking at the others blush still.
“You’ll be the one complaining when I am gone!” The scribe went to speak, but the kings hand moved over the others mouth.
“And no don’t change the subject!” He paused, eyes twinkling. “‘Cause you’re my favorite subject!”
The scribe let out a squeak as the king continued, voice falling to a husky whisper. “My sweet…submissive subject. My royal, loyal subject. Forever…”
The king pulled away, heading back towards his throne. “And ever…and ever and ever and ever~”
He thought a moment before continuing. “You’ll be back. Like before. I will fight the fight and win the war.”
The scribe followed his king loyally, smiling beneath his blush. “For your love. For your praise. And I’ll love ya till my dying days!”
He turned to the scribe again and smiled wide. “When you’re gone! I’ll go mad! So don’t throw away this thing we had.”
He stepped slowly back towards the other, looking down on him flirtatiously. “'Cause when push…comes to shove…”
The scribe leaned in a bit, but the king continued. “I will kill your friends and family…to remind you of my love!”
Roman pulled away and smirked, waving the poor scribe away to ponder those words. Not a hint of any fucks were found.
Hello naughty children, its sequel time. I got a lot of people showing interest in a sequel to this fic right here, and it was an interesting thing in the first place, so here we are. And do you all know how much I love horrifying imagery yet? Well, you should. Get ready. Roman’s writing some angst. And be aware; this is not necessarily in line with the first fic’s concept. It is just meant to be a sequel to it.
Tip Jar
Warnings: Non consensual changes to behavior and body, claustrophobic situation. 2,671 words.
Abstract: Roman angered the wrong personality trait.
Its time for a time out. Clear the room. He’s coming.
Here’s the thing about shape-shifting nobody ever talks about. Your size can change too. Your height. Your width. Especially if you’re part of a mind. Then there’s really no limitation.
Roman stirred and begun to wake slowly. This… didn’t feel like his bed. Not even close. He woke up in a mild panic and opened his eyes. Smooth, frosty glass all around him. He looked down. Still in sweats and a white tank top. He was stuck in something glass in his pajamas.
He stood up and surveyed the situation. It was a cylinder. On top there was metal that was screwed onto it. The glass next to it was tinted reddish in the shape of almost a… skirt?
Was he trapped in a jam jar? Sweet Hercules, he was trapped in a jam jar. Hm. Maybe that means the glass isn’t really frosted. If he had been sleeping in here all night, then…
He walked to the edge and touched it. Nothing unspeakable happened. It was just foggy glass. He moved his hand and wiped the fog away to form a little window to look out of.
Wall. Or a cabinet. It was wood.
He went to the other side and wiped away some of the fog there. More wood. He tried another part. There was a water glass. What appeared to be a giant water glass. He made a line all along the the jar at eye level. This was a cabinet. A nearly empty one with some water glasses and a few empty jam jars. Why was he here?
Roman thought about his castle and snapped his fingers. Nothing happened. He tried to will his regal clothes back. Nothing happened. He tried to shape-shift into someone stronger to try to break the glass. Still, nothing happened. He was stuck, in a jam jar, in his pajamas. Great.
He sat on the side in a huff. The jar was just barely too small for him to lie down in. If he lay down his head and part of his shoulders or his legs would have to be on the wall of the jar, but it wasn’t small enough for him to comfortably position himself against the sides either. All he could really do if he wanted to lie down was curl up into the fetal position, and he did not like doing that.
He considered turning the jar on its side and rolling out, but then he would have to crawl. And how high up was this cabinet?
After an indeterminate time,(time was an illusion in here, seeing as it was always dark) he decided to try it. Roman stood near a wall and jumped at the other side of the jar. Nothing happened.
“I am becoming quite pissed at the lack of movement here,” Prince mumbled to himself.
After a few more attempts to knock the jar over or break it, he gave up and sat down on the floor, holding his head in his hands.
Anxiety. This had to be Anxiety. Roman knew he shouldn’t have listened to Patton. Now Anxiety was back to his old self and free to carry out his revenge. It wasn’t like Anxiety had been completely someone else. Roman had just put a spell on him that would make him act like he would if he was a happy person. Interests and opinions didn’t change. Aesthetic didn’t change. Roman had even thought Anxiety had a nice smile when he was like that. Almost as good as his own. It had been warm and inviting, like the kind he saw Thomas wear when he was editing the parts of videos where he was playing Anxiety. Warm and playful, with a sparkle in the eye. It could almost make you feel warm inside.
But now that smile was limited to Thomas when he donned the makeup and oversized hoodie. Actual Anxiety hardly ever smiled, and if he did it was evil, or sad, or in slightly dark amusement. Even when he smiled at jokes or pranks Roman saw something darker there. Something sinister that chilled him to the bone.
He hugged his knees and fought back tears. Being stuck here was beginning to take a toll on him, and he had no idea how long he had been there. He would almost prefer Anxiety’s usual methods of revenge or symbolic bs. Breaking and bruising, panic, and being barred from speaking were all preferable to this. Being small and stuck with no chance of escape or awareness of the passage of time. Nothing but the fog from his own breath and a few empty water glasses to keep him company.
This was his torture. No escape. No movement. No change. Nothing to keep him occupied or inspire him. It was nearly unbearable.
He screamed. He couldn’t take it. He began pounding on the glass as he began to ugly cry in hysterical sobs. He was surprised at how suddenly he snapped, but he couldn’t take it anymore. The frustration and claustrophobic space were too much. It was too much.
“Anyone! God, please. Make it stop! Anxiety! Stop this! Stop! Stop. Stop. Stuh…”
He fell to his knees and leaned his torso on the foggy glass, wiping away the fog left there and smearing it with his tears, snot, and oily hands. He knelt there crying until he became too tired to keep going and he was all cried out. His head hurt now and his face felt flushed. The drying saltwater on his face stung and made him feel stiff. Sleep gave little rest.
He was awoken by a blinding light, followed by a jolt to the side. The jar was being moved. He attempted to stand and face the issue like a hero should, but the movement of the jar wouldn’t let him. It was still hard to see. His eyes were adjusting from the extreme dimness of the cupboard.
He heard a snap like a rubber band being removed from something, followed by a grinding noise as the metal lid above him twisted off. A pair of fingers reached in and he tried to fight them off but they found their way around his torso.
Roman thrashed and yelled. “Come on, Anxiety! Let me go full sized so I can fight you like a… Morality?”
Patton gently placed Roman on the counter next to the cookie jar. He placed the rubber band and cloth that had been on top of the jar in a drawer and the jar and its lid in the dishwasher. Then he looked down at Roman. Looked down at him with sharp daggers in his eyes.
Nothing in all the realms of the universe can make one feel smaller than the disappointed gaze of a benevolent parent, and Roman was currently four inches tall.
Roman stayed silent. His own eyes were looking down at him with a disappointed gaze and he wasn’t exactly sure why. After a minute or so, which felt to the prince as if it were an eternity, Patton spoke.
“I’m going to put you back to normal, and you’re not going away. Do you understand?” Patton said.
Roman stared in disbelief at the angry father in front of him. He said nothing.
“I said, do you understand? Answer me, Roman,” Patton said.
Roman swallowed and nodded. Patton moved his hand up and Prince was sitting on the counter, normally sized and fully clothed.
“Do you know why I put you in that jar, Roman?” Patton asked.
“You were the one that did that to me? I was lost in there! I was being tortured within an inch of my life!” Roman exclaimed.
Patton shook his head disapprovingly. “That’s just the problem, Roman. You don’t know what you did wrong. Well, its my job to know right from wrong. Were you under the impression I was just comic relief?”
This last statement was followed by a cold smile that was rarely seen from Patton. It was serious. It was deadly. It was the smile he gave just before someone was put in their place. When bigots were struck down. When friends were hurt and then avenged. When it was decided that someone would not be forgiven for what they had done. It was rare, it was cold, and it was absolutely terrifying.
Roman swallowed. “Fine. What have I done?”
“You hurt Anxiety. I know more about feelings than you do. What have Anxiety and I been trying to tell you and Logan for years? You can’t think through everything. Did you honestly think that hurting Anxiety would help us in any way?”
Roman jumped off the counter and got as close to Patton’s face as he dared.
“Listen up, you pretend parent, I did not harm him in the slightest. I simply altered his personality slightly. It was an attempt to alter the entire personality and it failed. Nothing about Thomas changed so you can leave it alone already,” Roman said in the angry serious tone he normally reserved for Anxiety, or in rare occasions Logan.
“Do not take that tone with me, Princey. I know Anxiety was trapped. More trapped than you were in that jar. More tortured. More closed in. I know about feelings and emotions. I am feelings and emotions. So would it kill his highness to listen to his feelings for two minutes?”
Roman took a step back. Patton’s eyes were slowly filling with tears. He blinked them away and closed his eyes tight.
“I’m sorry, kiddo, You just, really hurt him. You did. And now I hurt you almost as much. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,”
The tears fell quietly, but Patton fell slowly to his knees anyways.
“I’m sorry, Princey. I’m sorry,”
Roman was used to seeing Patton cry, but somehow this time was different. There was something desperate about this. Something almost hopeless. Morality was always extremely open. He was the heart. He never repressed any emotions on his own. Never pretended to feel something. Sure, he might say he’s feeling bad with a smile on his face, but he will tell you when he’s feeling bad. This was just as genuine as anything else, and that was the terrifying part.
Roman got to his knees on the kitchen floor and touched Patton’s shoulder.
“Patton? Morality? What do you need me to do? What do you need?”
“Apologize to Anxiety. You need to mean it,” Patton said, not looking the prince in the eyes. “You have to mean it,”
Roman punched the wall in his bedroom, making a splintery hole. He quickly willed it fixed and then went back to pacing.
Apologize to Anxiety? Why? Why? Anxiety is the antagonist. Anxiety is the one that causes the most problems. Avoidance of social events, worrying constantly about problems that aren’t there, stopping Thomas from doing fun things even when they are possible. Why should he feel any remorse for what he did?
“What are you so stressed about?” Came a voice.
Roman jumped and drew his sword. Anxiety looked unfazed. He sat there on the headboard of Roman’s large gilded bed eating an apple. He seemed almost bored.
“What are you doing here?” Roman asked suspiciously.
“My job,” Anxiety said through a mouthful of apple.
“Explain,” Roman said, pointing his katana at Anxiety’s face,
Anxiety swallowed his apple and rolled his eyes. “You’re distressed. I’m here to make it worse. That’s what I do. Though I sense you’re upset about more than just all of Thomas’ friends being out of town. They’re totally abandoning him, by the way. Its probably your fault. You always did make us a little too eccentric,”
A thought passed Roman’s mind. He fought with himself about it for a second and then asked Anxiety the question.
“Do you actually bother us just for the sake of making things worse?”
“Nope. Its all justified,” Anxiety said bluntly. “Thomas really is that much of an idiot and we need to make sure his friends, family, and fans don’t realize that and suddenly abandon him. Or, us if you’re talking about the fandom maybe,”
“I think i preferred when you were being vague,” Prince said, sheathing his sword.
“So what’s your damage?” Anxiety said, taking another bite of the apple.
Every nerve in Roman’s imaginary form yelled at him to snap back with an insult and push Anxiety aside. He thought of Patton. Thought of those daggers in his eyes. That cold stare. The sobbing on the floor. The fog on the glass.
“What was it like when I put that spell on you?” Roman asked.
Anxiety froze mid-chew. His mouth was full and his jaw was raised under a closed mouth. After realizing he had frozen he swallowed hard and looked at Princey in disbelief.
“Why do you care?” He asked.
Roman looked at the area to the right of Anxiety rather than directly at him.
“Patton put me in a time-out today,” Roman said.
“Yikes. What was it for you?”
“A jar. A jam jar in a dark cupboard,” Prince said.
“He usually just doesn’t let me leave my hallways,” Anxiety said, taking another bite.
“Wait. He has done this before?”
Anxiety moved the bite of apple to the side of his mouth so it wouldn’t show when he talked.
“Rarely, and usually to me. He just makes me get lost in the nightmare hallways,” He swallowed. “I don’t like being in there for more than I’ve got to. Its not the worst thing ever though. Its just mildly irritating. Not like what you did to me,”
“Then what did I do to you?’
“You put me in Hell, Princey. I was in Hell. You have any idea what its like acting happy when you don’t wanna?”
He gently threw the apple core at Roman and it bounced off his shoulder. Roman noted there was no hostility in the gesture. If anything, it was playful, like siblings blowing straw wrappers at each other in a fast food restaurant. The lack of hostility and mockery Anxiety was showing today cut him to the core. There was something extremely unnatural about it. Somehow it was just as terrifying as Patton’s cold anger.
“No answer, huh?” Anxiety said. “Well, then I’d better stop messing around and do my job,”
There was the evil smile. Right on cue.
Anxiety seemingly vanished, but the room grew darker. He shouldn’t have told the emo idiot about his time-out. He really shouldn’t have done that.
How does it feel when you don’t get to choose? Not good, huh?
The words echoed through his head as the bed grew further and further away. Soon, Roman was about the size of a mouse. His belt and sword hadn’t shrunk with him. He pushed the now heavy leather strap off of himself. This was not going to be fun.
The guilt he felt, the terror he felt, the failure that was his to own, all weighed on him far more than that leather belt. He sat down leaning against one of the feet of the bed.
You cause problems just like the rest of us.
“I was wrong that time, but I do not cause as many problems as you do,” Roman said to the air. “I am sorry, but I can’t believe I deserve this,”
You’re not perfect.
“But I am. I am perfect just the way I am,” Roman said. “Far more perfect than you,”
I think he meant he is sorry. I think he meant it.
“So you’re here too. Very well. The line blurs more often than one would think,”
Ideas still came. Everything stayed the same. Or perhaps a bit more anxious than normal. Mild creative block after being forced to act happy for a few days. Nobody can be happy all the time, No creative person can be creative every second of their life. Thomas Sanders is no exception to the rule. This last week had just been particularly hard.
So, there seems to be an interest in me writing more witch Anxiety. I got a request for it and some people seconded that. I also really love imagining what kind of things can happen in the mind and what certain thought processes look like. I really hope you enjoy reading it. I sure as heck enjoyed writing it.
Tip Jar
Warnings: None I can think of. Some violence, I guess. 3,003 words.
Abstract: A bad week. Anxiety is in an active mood. Bring on the dramatics.
Logan said Anxiety was “extra”. Well, that’s one thing they could agree on. Yes, dramatics weren't required to do his job, but they made it all the more fun. After all, if you’ve gotta be the villain sometimes, it might as well be fun.
Anxiety flipped through the drawers in his room. They were full of papers and clothes mixed in with each other. Looking in here, one could see why the most embarrassing memories were remembered so randomly. They got lost in the folds of clothing in the dresser. Shuffled around and wrinkled.
Anxiety haphazardly dug through the drawers, tossing aside shirts and pairs of jeans that had been carelessly thrown in and balled up in the first place. He was looking for something specific. What he didn’t know, but he knew that he’d know it when he found it.
Thomas was planning on going to a party later this week. That was not going to stand. There had to be something over here. Something. Something that he could use to stop Thomas from going.
Anxiety froze in the middle of throwing a sweatshirt over his shoulder. He slowly turned around He looked at all the papers he had thrown over his shoulder. He studied the dark clothes that had been thrown every which way.
Which. Witch.
Marry Poppins.
Teleport.
Shapeshift.
Thomas had learned how to snap because...
Anxiety didn’t have the best memory and yet had a very good one. The papers were memories. Embarrassing and/or horrifying memories. They were scattered all over his dark room. stuffed in the drawers, piled in the corner, and scattered over the bookshelf and nightstand. Some days when he hadn’t slept they somehow found their way to the bed too. He had a lot of memories, but sometimes they got lost. Sometimes forever.
Anxiety started looking for older memories. Glancing at them and then putting them down. None of them were the right one. He could never remember these things on his own. He had to write them down, and he did. Now where was it?
Why did Thomas learn how to snap again? That was a good memory. And also a bad one?
A torn peice of paper. Stuffed into a book. Mary Poppins Opens the Door. It had been handled so many times. It was so small. Anxiety could barely make out what the paper said but it was so familiar. This had to be the right one.
Mary Poppins. Which. Witch. Shapeshift. Mental projections of your own personality.
Two things tried to connect to each other in Anxiety’s mind. He raised his hand in the air and snapped his fingers. The papers around the room whizzed around and stacked themselves neatly by year and whizzed to the top of the bookshelf into rarely used filing boxes that were precariously perched up there.
He stood up from where he was sitting by the bookshelf and snapped again. His clothes folded themselves and flew into their drawers.
Thomas had learned how to snap because he thought it made rooms become clean like in Mary Poppins. The sides were part of the mind and only really existed there. One could snap. One could shapeshift and cast spells.
Anxiety sighed. “If I weren’t such an emotion I would have thought of that hours ago.”
He raised his hand and a trap door opened up. He lowered himself in and went down the wooden ladder, pulling the trap door closed behind him. It closed seamlessly. If anyone came in here the only unusual thing they would notice was that Anxiety’s room was clean for once.
Anxiety climbed down. Further and further he went. The air in this part of the mind was always just the wrong kind of temperature. Too warm to wear a jacket, and too cold to not wear one. Any of the others would be irritated to no end in here, but not Anxiety. He wore the hoodie no matter what. Even in hundred degree heat. This was perfect.
He always inevitably forgot about this place. During good times. During times when he was sleeping or relaxing and all the others were doing their things. When Thomas had no anxiety or negative thoughts. But life has peaks and valleys, and no matter how small the valley or high the peak, Anxiety would always remember again. The place a personification of negative thought felt right at home. The basement, that the others didn’t even know they had.
Well, one time or another all of them had found this place. Roman had made it. Patton had gotten trapped in it. So had Logan. But they all forgot about it until they were faced with it head on. It wasn’t their space. It was Anxiety’s. Anxiety got to remember it on his own and use it. The others had no place using it.
Finally the small tunnel the ladder led through opened up and Anxiety’s feet hit hard stone floor. He turned around and there it was, exactly as he had left it.
A work table, a small cooking space, and several storage boxes, all sitting in the middle of a large cavern. It was dim in here. Just right. It was dramatic. It was dark. There were crystals stuck in the walls and stalactites hanging from the ceiling.
Negative shadows swirled around as Anxiety made his way to the center of the cavernous room where all his stuff was. Some of them slid away screeching like damned souls while others swirled around at his feet, trying to harm or help. Both he shooed away. The more affectionate ones he was wary of. Some of those were thoughts even he would rather didn’t see the light of day. The ones that ran were probably dark hopes and crushed dreams. Thoughts he had doomed to be down here. All of them he had created, either directly or indirectly.
Thomas wouldn’t listen to normal intrusive thoughts about this. The other three seemed pretty excited about him going. Even Logic wasn’t opposed to it. But Anxiety knew. He knew Thomas would just mess up. He would say something stupid. He would look like an idiot and his friends would never want to talk to him again.
Anxiety let out a small grunt as he picked up a dark blue plastic storage tub and placed it roughly on the work bench. He opened it. It was full of bottles with scratchy black labels on them. Messy labels with his own scratchy handwriting.
He pulled the bottles out one by one and put them on the work bench. A dark shadow that was so strong it was almost three dimensional began to purr and cuddle up to Anxiety’s legs. Anxiety kicked it, sending the shapeless being hissing off into the other shadows.
“No. Not you. Even I have my limits.” Anxiety growled.
He threw the storage tub on the ground and then began to study the bottles. Essence of doom, knot in the chest, sleepless night, irrational fear. All the labels were things like that. Mental annoyances that were sure to wear down resolve. But which ones to use?
Anxiety took a bit of this and a bit of that. Sleepless night was a grey sticky powder. Just a small spoonful of that. Looming worry. He could make some of that on his own, but making it like this was much more fun. He poured some of it in. It was like a heavy white gas that swirled at the bottom of the jar. He closed it up and shook it. Now it just needed something to really make it work.
“You always mess up, Thomas.” He whispered. “Do you really think you aren’t boring them? Honestly, everyone would be better off if you just kept your mouth shut.”
A new screech. Anxiety caught the swirling black shadow before it got away and shoved it into the bottle. A new negative thought. Wonderful. Now all it needed was a memory.
Anxiety kicked away a few more negative thoughts that were beginning to get too cozy. They really liked him. He was the only way they could get out, but these were thoughts he’d rather not use. No. Best not to let them out. Or think about them.
He snapped his fingers and teleported back into his room. It was impossible to teleport into the basement subconscious, but it was possible to teleport out.
He pulled down the rarely used boxes that had memories in them. Soon they would find their way around and scatter all over his room again, but for right now they were organized. He could never keep them organized long, so he searched fast.
Yes. From last year. A joke that had obviously not gone over well at a party. Anxiety held the memory with two hands and pulled it apart like he was going to rip it in half, but instead it copied itself and he had two identical pieces of paper with the memory described on them.
Anxiety shoved one of the papers into the box it had come out of and tore the other one into small pieces which he then shoved into the jar quickly before the negative thought could get out. He then shook the bottle with all his might and the whole mess turned into a substance that reminded him of the description of a pensive from the Harry Potter books. Like the pensive, it swirled with the memory. Anxiety watched it with disgust. That had been a really unwanted pun.
Morality fell over laughing. Logic did another facepalm. Thomas didn’t see them, but kept on giggling under his breath at the television.
“It is midnight, Morality. Thomas must get to bed.” Logic insisted.
“NO! Just one more. I want to see what happens next. I need to see what happens next!”
Anxiety popped up quietly and was careful not to be seen. He noticed the look of conflict on Thomas’ face as his inner struggle was personified invisibly behind him.
“He will be too tired tomorrow. He won’t be able to get anything done.” Logan insisted.
Anxiety pocketed the bottle and then announced his presence.
“And you know, he’s messed up enough already today. Can’t you do one thing right?”
Logic and Morality both jumped.
“Hey.” Said Anxiety.
Thomas looked over at the clock, giving them all the knowledge simultaneously that it was quarter after three.
Anxiety made an annoyed expression at Patton who mumbled “Oh, alright.” and then sunk down.
As soon as Thomas planted himself in bed, Anxiety went to the mind palace version of Thomas’ apartment and held his bottle aloft. He took a deep breath. This was for Thomas. It was for all of them. His own good. He’s just looking out for him. It’ll be worth it.
He threw the bottle down hard. It smashed and the grey substance inside rolled up like a wave and then split off and zoomed out every which way. It grew and cut itself up into tiny droplets and inched its way into everything. Anxiety felt a gross sensation as it soaked into his own skin. The others wouldn’t feel that, but it was probably soaking into their skin right now too.
The mind was primed. The spell had been set. Time to get to work.
Thomas could not get tired. He didn’t get it. He had been awake for almost twenty hours. Why couldn’t he sleep.
Patton, and therefore Thomas, was beginning to feel stressed.
“Logan? Logan!?” Patton said violently opening the teacher’s bedroom door.
“Wha- Patton? Why aren’t you...”
“Something is wrong!” Patton said, seeming very urgent.
“What? Whom is saying that?” Logic asked, putting his glasses on.
“Anxiety!” Patton said.
“Oh my.”
Anxiety sat at the foot of Thomas’ bed casually making new negative thoughts.
“Yeah, that was pretty embarrassing Thomas. They lost some respect for you there. Maybe all respect. Would be a shame if something like that happened again.”
Patton and Logan showed up.
“Anxiety, what is the issue here?” Logan asked.
“Remember that party Thomas went to last year? Remember that joke? Well, I do.” Anxiety said, an evil grin on his face.
Patton started whining. Logic sighed, but on the inside he was secretly finding it difficult to refute this.
“Correct, the joke did not go over well, but most of those persons have probably forgotten it by now.” Logic said carefully.
“You don’t know that.” Anxiety said confidently. “They probably still think about how stupid it was.”
A new negative thought showed up and began swirling around at the Sides’ feet. Patton jumped and made a squeaking noise.
“What is that?” Logic asked.
“I’ll tell you what that is!” Roman said, rising up.
“Oh, so you remember this time.” Anxiety sighed.
“Yes, I do. It took me some digging, but I have remembered. You are releasing negative thoughts! You have us all under a spell.”
“I don’t understand any of this.” Patton stage-whispered.
“Anxiety is pretending to use spells. It represents Thomas’ anxiety about going to the party tomorrow.” Logic said.
“Yeah, and he’s not going.” Anxiety said. “Get ‘em.”
Anxiety pointed and the shadow he had just created swirled around Logic’s feet quickly and then engulfed him in one swift motion and dragged him under.
Prince summoned his katana and pointed it at Anxiety.
“Where did you send him?” He demanded.
“The basement. Don’t worry. He’ll forget about it soon enough.”
“Anxiety wh-” Patton began before Anxiety pointed and another thought that had been waiting in the shadows engulfed Patton and dragged him under in the same way the other had done to Logan.
Roman grabbed Anxiety by his shirt and held him off the ground so Anxiety was a head above him.
“Why did you do that?” He demanded.
“Relax. They can still do their jobs from down there. Just not as effectively.” Anxiety said in a mock reassuring voice.
“Bring them back, you villain. Bring them back!”
Anxiety put his fist below Roman’s abdomen and a blast of black magic smashed into the prince, sending him flying across the room.
“Don’t go to the party! You’ll regret it!” Anxiety insisted.
“No! Thomas is going to the party!” Roman said, getting up.
Thomas hated these late night conflicting thoughts. Why was it so hard to sleep?
Anxiety flew back with a blast of white.
“You are not the only one that can do things like that! He is going to the party!” Roman insisted.
Anxiety pulled a backup bottle out of his hoodie’s pocket. It was a small vial of what appeared to be black glitter. He threw it at Prince and it exploded in a huge cloud of black smoke.
“I... I can’t... Ah! What is this?” Roman asked, suddenly afraid.
“Irrational fears.” Anxiety said. “You’re not going to that party.”
“No!”
Logan paced around the table, kicking negative thoughts as they came near him. He had no memory of this place but it felt familiar.
Patton was sitting on Anxiety’s workbench, nervously looking at the shadows gathering around it.
“Uh, they seem to like me.” He laughed nervously. “They’rre not saying very nice things though.”
Logan stopped. “They are speaking?’
“Yeah, they’re really noisy. Not saying very nice things.” He looked at one that seemed to have almost completely assumed a physical form. “Especially that guy over there.”
“What is it saying?”
“I... I don’t think you should know, Logan.”
“What could it possibly be saying that...”
“Its telling me to hurt people. It wants to do it really bad. Some really bad things that I shouldn’t talk about, Logan. Get me out of here!” Patton said loudly, on the verge of tears.
“There is no way out.” Logic reminded him. “I am sorry they are harassing you, but the trap door is locked, there are no breaks in the walls, and Anxiety has barred us from teleporting out. I cannot help you.”
Patton sighed. “I’m sorry. I just really don’t like it in here.”
“Neither do I, honestly. This is a deep part of the subconscious I would rather not think about.”
“Did you try picking the lock?”
Logic sighed. “Of course I... actually, no. I did not. How did you think of that?”
Patton shrugged and smiled. “I dunno.”
Anxiety kept talking and throwing bottles and setting thoughts on the prince, but he kept fighting back.
“Thomas is a delightful person! They will be lucky to have him at their party!”
A white dazzlingly bright thought came into existence.
“No! He‘s a moron and they just invited him to be nice.” Anxiety said, dead serious.
The new dark thought and the light one crashed into each other and neutralized. Both traits panted, tired and exhausted.
“Give it up.” Anxiety insisted.
“I think not.” Came a voice.
They both looked over. There was Logic, with Morality hiding behind him.
“I never thought I’d say this, but thank the heavens, its Logic.”
“Anxiety, Thomas was invited to this party by some good friends. They are likely to want him there. It is extremely unlikely someone would merely ‘tolerate’ a person for this long.”
A silver substance that was neither gas or liquid evaporated off all the sides’ skin. Anxiety suddenly felt sleepy. His spell was being defeated by Logic.
“No. They’re just... Just being...” Anxiety said.
“Just being nice? Highly unlikely. Societal conventions and context clues would suggest otherwise.” Logic insisted.
Anxiety couldn’t remember when he had gotten in his bed. He looked around. The memories had scattered themselves around his room again. Stupid Logic. Always neutralizing his magic.
Soon after Thomas fell asleep and slept hard. No dreams were had. After the nightmare Prince had just gone through, he didn’t really feel like making any more.
Anxiety fought all the next day for Thomas to not go. The others seemed to have forgotten about the basement already. It wasn’t until that night, when Thomas was surrounded by friends, food, and good music that he forgot about it too.
I know I’ve got other fic prompts to be working on but the one about Logan surprising Patton for father’s day kind of fits in with the day, so I whipped this up for you real quick. Here’s a little fic about everybody’s favorite honorary dad.
Tip Jar
Warnings: Friendship fluff. It’s giving me a toothache.
Abstract: It’s father’s day. Patton may not be an actual dad, but that doesn’t mean he’s not getting a father’s day celebration.
Logan rubbed his chin staring at the calendar on his office wall. Father’s day. A day to celebrate masculine caretakers, parents, and mentors.
He knew what was to be planned for the next day. A visit to the parents, a short video filmed in which Thomas would dress as Patton. Other than that, nothing. It would just be another Sunday.
Perhaps it shouldn’t be.
Logan wondered why he felt compelled to do something. Patton wasn’t an actual father, after all. He was how Thomas chose to imagine his morality and deep emotions and impulses. He didn’t actually have children, just like Logan didn’t actually have students, Roman didn’t have a kingdom, and Anxiety never actually went to concerts or other gatherings of that nature.
On the other hand, since Patton is the heart, he tends to be quite loving. Anxiety calls him dad sometimes. Many persons on the internet appear to look up to him as a sort of surrogate father.
He thought of long nights talking with friends and worrying. Thought about how on their birthday Morality brought around presents even though they were in the mind and giving gifts is completely illogical. There were days he couldn’t focus and somehow found a mug of hot tea in his hands and never questioned it. There were days when Roman was damaged seemingly beyond repair and bounced back anyways. He thought about the days they were so afraid that even Anxiety became visibly distressed at what he was doing and yet Patton was there, a smile on his face even when the rest of them were driven to their knees.
Perhaps some recognition was in order. Nothing huge. No, Morality would not like that. He would squeal in glee, but anyone that really knew him would see that it’s the little things he really loves. Small gestures. However, seeing as it was a designated day perhaps something slightly bigger would be in order. Now what could he do?
Logan took out his phone and started dialing.
Patton was so happy. So many people needed to hear that message. He wasn’t even thinking about how people were wishing him a happy father’s day. He wasn’t thinking about what role he played in the group. He was just so glad he had made so many people happy.
He went to the kitchen to get a snack. There was a pizza box on the dining table with a white card folded on top of it so it stood like a tent.
Written on the card in scratchy handwriting in ink so black it seemed unreal was “Dad”
Morality opened it. It had one word inside.
“Thanks,”
Morality opened the pizza box. It was pepperoni. It tasted really good. It tasted really good. He almost cried.
When Patton got back to his room, he gasped. Sitting on his desk was a pot with a honeysuckle bush pouring out and over the sides. A card was tied with red ribbon to one of the clusters of leaves. It was bordered with red and handwritten on it in big loopy cursive was his name. “Patton”
Patton carefully untied the card and opened it. The inside was written in much smaller less showy cursive.
“I apologize for ever accusing you of not playing a part. I understand this is your favorite flower,”
Patton was so confused, but he giggled anyways. He didn’t know what this was for really, but it was so nice. He imagined a window with a big windowsill and opened the window that appeared in his room and put the plant on the sill.
There was a knock on his door. Patton called out “Come in!” but no one came in. He furrowed his brow and went to go open the door.
There was no one there. He looked down. There was a bag with a hallmark card leaning against it.
He studied the bag. It was coffee. His favorite brand of coffee.
The card had a picture of a golden retriever puppy wearing a light blue bow around its neck. Inside there was a note written in extremely neat handwriting. If it wasn’t for the size and unmistakable look of pen, Morality could have sworn it had been typed.
“I understand it is Father’s day. You fulfill many needs an actual father normally would. So, I have gotten you a gift. If the others do what I told them, they will have gotten you gifts as well. Please do not overwork yourself. -Logan”
Patton almost cried again. He opened the bag and inhaled. It smelled incredible. He then closed it and went back into his room to finish eating the pizza.
like the idea of Anxiety forcibly silencing the others or otherwise physically affecting them, and there are some ideas based off of my own social anxiety I’d like to explore. So, here it is.
Tip Jar
Warnings: Bad social anxiety, forced silence, and negative self talk.
Abstract: Anxiety is a disorder. Something that seeps into everyday life. It is always there, even when you’re having a good day.
Thomas was in a crowd. A very large crowd. Anxiety forced him to squeeze and fold his arms and make himself as small as possible. Sometimes this comforted Morality and made him feel okay, even when Anxiety wouldn’t be quiet.
That didn’t work this time. Morality felt uneasy. Anxiety’s words echoed through his head and made him extremely uncomfortable. He felt like he was being squeezed from the top down, like there was a weight pressing on his head. It was getting harder to keep smiling.
Logan’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“There is nothing to be fearful of. This is an ordinary situation. Nothing disastrous has...”
But then his voice petered out.
Thomas had to force himself to move through the mental block. Just keep going. Just keep going.
“There are too many people. They’re looking at you. They’re looking,” Anxiety hissed. “Go home. Go back,”
Roman was holding Patton up. Or perhaps it was going both ways. They supported each other.
Anxiety was afraid. He really truly was. He didn’t actually mean to silence the others. Okay maybe he meant to silence Logan, but that was so Thomas would listen to him. Logic did have a nasty habit of making him go away for a while.
There were just so many people. So many. Maybe they didn’t have to go out to eat tonight. Maybe eating leftovers would be alright.
Despite his best efforts to fight it off, Thomas gave in. He turned right around and got out of line. Everyone, including Anxiety, had hoped this would calm him down. No such luck.
“That looked weird, Thomas. They think you’re weird now,” Anxiety said. “You blew it. You blew it.
Logic wanted to say something. He wanted to talk. He could point out that they would probably never see any of those people again, and people leave lines all of the time for various reasons, but he couldn’t say anything. He was mute.
Prince sat in the empty hole that was forming around the three of them. He couldn’t bring his hands to sign. They were shaking. It hurt to try to talk. Somehow, Morality was still standing.
He stood as firm as possible, despite the crushing weight he was feeling. His voice came out shaky and hoarse.
“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” He managed.
“No its not,” Anxiety insisted. “Thomas looks like a complete moron. There are too many people. Everything. Went. Wrong,”
Nobody could move from that dark little area of the mind palace. Nobody could go to their area of the mindspace or run. Frozen. Frozen in fear is what they were. Stuck in a hole, and 3/4 of them completely mute, unable to even get their hands to work.
Thomas got back to his car as Anxiety relived the fast food incident over and over again. His words floated around and echoed until they just became floating feelings without meaning.
Soon, just his presence was weighing down on all of them. The car nearly ran over a dog. That distracted moment and nearly killing an animal only made Anxiety more powerful.
Roman was stuck in a dark hole now. He fought to stay conscious as the pressure Anxiety was both purposefully and unintentionally putting on him fought him. Eventually, the pain and energy that came from fighting Anxiety became too much and Prince Roman was passed out on the ground.
Anxiety started chewing on his finger. This was becoming too much, even for him, but it was still satisfying. Getting his way, making the others shut up for once. There was nothing half-hearted about what he was doing this evening. The comfort bubble would not be popped.
At home, Patton still tried to smile as Thomas ate leftovers straight out of the plastic container, but it was still hard. Hard to smile, hard to move, and impossible to say anything. He wanted to give words of comfort so bad, but no words came.
Logan was annoyed beyond reason. He sat on the ground trying in vain to get his hands still enough to write something legible. His left hand shook and the pen only left scribbles on the notepad. He even tried with his right hand, but the non dominant hand wasn’t any less unstable. He threw the pen and notebook into the blackness of the mindscape where something swallowed them up.
Nothing made sense. There was nothing to be afraid of. If only he could attempt to express that without it feeling like there was a red hot knife twisting around inside his windpipe.
After a quick check in on Twitter and a couple episodes of Avatar, Anxiety was beginning t regret the decisions he had made, which meant Thomas was also regretting them.
“You just always seem to make the wrong decision,” Anxiety sighed as Thomas imagined him sitting on the couch next to him. “I always screw things up and they never say the right thing, and then crap hits the fan. Why are you like this?”
A small voice that was very scratchy said “It’s okay,”
Patton was still trying. It was working, apparently. He was starting to get his voice back.
“That’s uh, only gonna make it worse if you talk,” Anxiety said.
“Can I go to bed now?” Thomas asked sarcastically.
“I don’t see what’s stopping you, Thomas,” Anxiety scoffed.
“You, obviously. I didn’t listen to Logic. He was right. There was no reason to leave. And now, there is no reason to dwell on it,”
He took a deep breath. “Maybe you should go, Anxiety,” Thomas said.
“Not yet,” Anxiety said. “You can’t always talk your way out of my influence, Sanders. That’s not how it works,”
“Well, it was worth a shot,” Thomas said to the empty room.
Roman was still asleep and would be until morning. Logic gained the ability to whisper quietly in small doses. Patton got his full voice back in the morning.
