#tw change

[coquette-corpsie]

how it feels to be an audhd teenager who can't cope with change and watching everyone in your life leave

[sail-the-o-sean]

Sometime, in the future, whether close or distant, I will want an energetic love. I'll long for splashing in fountains and laughing too loudly in the super market. Sloppy kisses that miss their marks and hands held at odd angles because the physical comfort isn't as important as being together. To be tangled up with someone, their elbow jabbing me in the stomach and my arm falling asleep beneath their weight. I'll want someone who can fight with me about silly things like what classifies as a sandwich but lets it slide when I forget to change the roll in the bathroom. I'll want someone worth making it work for a while. Someone I'll seperate with because we've had what fun we could before all turned into catchphrases and call and response. Who I leave with a hug and a bittersweet smile after all our dates become habit instead of adventure. I will want to have fun while it lasts, taking my favorite pieces of them with me into my next home. Letting our inside jokes be all that is entirely ours as I begin to learn from my next love, taking all I learned from them with me. I will want someone who inspires me and creates with me and looks better under neons and fluorescents than sunlight and dimly glowing lamps and looks best when they fall flat on the ground laughing their head off.

But right now. I want to hold and be held in silence, a comfortable, imperfect quietness broken by breath and heartbeat. Something mathematical and routine. Warm and content with space to contemplate unquestioned. I want to ask and be asked what's being thought of and unmoving silence to be answer enough. I want to live quietly and peacefully with someone who talks about science and nature more than anything else. Quiet, unquestionable things that just make sense. I want us to be safe within our unanswering nature, with space to wonder about things we cannot explain with words. I want to ask them a question and see them respond by carefully planning a trip to somewhere that I can see the answer so that I may fully understand. I want us to talk without looking at eachother, and look at eachother without thinking. To never fully associate them with their voice but to know it by heart. I want us to pass eachother quietly with a hand brushed against the others back. I don't want to know them in their entirety or associate them with anything but rain and warmth and comfort and silence. And when we part, I don't want it to be any different than the warmth and comfort and silence that we have known with eachother. I long for it to be simply because it is time. For a new sort of comfort, a different form of love. Because of new opportunities, a new calling that pulls us gently from eachother. And I want to see it coming. I want us to be together in our comfortable silence until our last days together, as the keys are handed back to the landlords, as we walk down the drive to our cars. And then, I want to look at them, one final time. I want to speak as I look at them, and I want them to do the same. So we may finally be whole people, un-abstracted to eachother. With flaws and perfections and loves all our own. To live together as abstract lights of yellow and soft orange, the gentle warmth of flames, and to part as people who barely recognize eachother as such a thing.

I want to see them again, years later, with a haircut I don't like and wrinkles I don't recognize. When we are both doing well, in good health and living happily and comfortably enough. When we can create things we're proud of and that other people like too, when we have new loves that have changed who we were into someone entirely new except by our kindness and our thoughtful pauses. I want us to have a coffee and some small talk, and I want to be left amazed by how much we can change over the years. I want to wonder how much I've changed too. I know they don't notice their differences, I know that I'll remember them as separate people. And I know that it will be a comforting thought that such change is possible. To see with new clarity that our growth is permanent despite all its setbacks.

I long to have something good enough to end.

[edjectedly]

Changing for the Worse

THIS TAKES PLACE AFTER CROFTER’S THE MUSICAL. Roman realizes the time for princes is gone, and that if he wants to stay relevant he’ll have to change.

Thanks to @basicmillennial and @sanders-specs for encouraging me, and @fuzzypurplecloud for checking this over tonight and @meginoi for helping me back in April of 2018 when I started this!

Warnings: Yelling, Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, Roman Angst, Crying

Words: 2375

Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety

Tags: @fuzzypurplecloud @emphoenixcat @tree4life25 @vergeangst @lexboydfandompanda  @ashrain5 @thisrandomperson102 @callboxkat @princelogical @meginoi @moxiety--sanders101 @poisonedapples  @say-no-to-this-but-its-laurens @kanejandkruge @lizaelsparrow

Roman fidgeted with the sleeves of his new letter-man jacket as he starred in the mirror. This jacket was nice, it was soft, a nice color, it matched his outfit perfectly but… It wasn’t normal, it wasn’t him. But, that no longer mattered. It was obvious that no one needed a prince anymore, he was an outdated concept.

He sighed again, running a hand through his hair. He felt wrong. He missed the white of his old shirt, the gold of the embellishments, the weight of his sash on his shoulder, he missed the confidence it used to give him, but most importantly he missed the comfort it provided. 

His new jacket, while being the perfect blend of black red and gold, was too heavy on his shoulders. His shirt was impeccable, a nice simple red shirt, but it wasn’t long sleeved like his white one and he’d feel weird having that and the jacket. Then his fancy white pants had been shed for simple blue jeans, that were just too rough when he was unaccustomed to it. But, he’d have to become accustomed to it.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he sighed again, resting his head against his mirror. This was necessary if he wanted the fans to like him, and he did. Their approval meant everything to him. Well, not as much as Thomas’s, or the other sides, but it was a close third. He was sure that Thomas would appreciate the update if anything.

Besides, creativity is always changing, and if he couldn’t deal with change maybe he shouldn’t be the creative side.

Something was wrong, Virgil just knew it. He was jumpy, itchy, off, anxious. He couldn’t figure out why though and it was killing him. The itch just below his skin had been there since he had woke up earlier that day, stirring and skittering like electricity under his skin, waiting for the right moment to rear its ugly head and turn a bad situation into a worse one...and Virgil wasn’t standing for it.

He needed to figure out what was going on, even if he’d rather hide in bed. He wasn’t going to let this affect Thomas, not when he could prevent it.

Virgil made his way to the living room, searching desperately for the problem. However, nothing seemed wrong and it was beginning to get on his last nerve.

“Virgil,” Logan's exasperated voice cut through his frantic searching, “What in Thomas's mind are you doing?”

“Looking for the problem,” he spit out, before turning his narrowed eyes at  Logan, “How are you feeling?”

Logan rolled his eyes, “I am not a feeling, therefore I don't have feelings.”

“We both know that's crap, but it's a normal response for you so I won't fight you, yet.”

With that, Virgil walked around the room one more time before going into the kitchen to continue his search, ignoring the nerd following him.

“He just looked around the living room, asked me how I felt, which is preposterous, and came in here.”

Virgil could feel Patton’s gaze on the back of his head as Logan filled him in on what had just transpired in the living room. He was trying to ignore them, in favour of making sure nothing dangerous has been placed in the spice cabinet, but couldn’t any longer when Patton cleared his throat.

“Virgil you know I never hate having you around when I bake, but if you don’t mind me asking, what’s going on? Me and Logan are a bit worried.”

Virgil froze, a thing of cinnamon still in his hand from looking through the cabinet, before spinning around a focusing on Patton, “Is everything okay with you?”

Patton tilted his head to the side, a confused grin on his face, “What do you mean kiddo? I’m doing great!” Patton’s smile fell away as it was replaced with a look of earnest concern, “But how are you? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, there’s just- I can feel-” Virgil paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, “Something is off and I can’t figure out what! It’s driving me crazy.”

“Well, how about we try and take your mind off of it?” Patton suggested.

“I don’t know Pat, I don’t know if it’ll work.”

“I think, before we find out what’s wrong, you need to calm down just a teensy bit.”

Logan nodded, “I also think calming down may benefit you. Right now you seem like you’re really on edge and I do not think any of us would like you to have a panic attack.”

“Plus,” Patton added, “If you did figure it out, could you deal with it in a way that wouldn’t make this worse on you emotionally and potentially on who ever did whatever is throwing you off?”

A millions scenarios flashed through Virgil’s head as he thought about going off on one of the others for something that probably didn’t matter.

“You’re right,” he conceded with a nod, “But as soon as I calm down I need to go back to looking.”

“Of course, and don’t worry me and Logan will help you, but right now, why don’t we finish these cookies?”

Roman sat on the floor of his room, gaze stuck on his reflection in his mirror. This shouldn’t be that much of an issue! He was Roman flippin’ Sanders after all! So he wasn’t a prince anymore, so what? That wasn’t all he was. It wasn’t like his old costume defined him. He would be okay.

“Roman! We made cookies!” He heard Patton yell up the stairs, interrupting his thoughts.

“I’ll be right down!”

Well, it was now or never. He should get the reveal over with before he convinced himself that this wasn’t okay. He allowed himself another glance at himself, before sinking down into the kitchen.

“Hello! I have come to partake in these cookies, and grace you all with my-” Roman stopped, taking in the shocked looks of his friends. Surely his outfit isn’t that bad? “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“We’re just looking at your cool new clothes kiddo!” Patton reassured instantly, unsure of how he really felt about the clothes.

“Yes,” Logan agreed, looking him up and down again, “Your clothes are definitely different. They’re less… loud than your previous garment.”

“That’s good… I’m glad you all like it,” Roman forced the words out, weak smile accompanying his strained words. He kept trying to remind himself that this was good. He needed to ditch the old look, he needed to do this, he needed their approval, this was all good. But then, why did he feel so bad about it?

“Hey wait,” Virgil jumped down from his place on the counter, grimace obvious on his face as he looked at Roman’s outfit, “I don’t like it Roman.”

“What do you mean?” Roman asked, eyes widening.

“Well Princey I don’t think it suits you. You’re a prince, Thomas’s fanciful side right? So why would you wear that? You look like a poser. I hate posers.”

Roman gasped, tears springing to his eyes, “Virgil!” Patton hissed, turning on his friend.

“What Patton? You can’t tell me that this look is good enough for him without lying and we all know how I feel about lying. He’s a prince! He should dress like one, right?”

“I mean that is logical,” agreed Logan, looking at Roman’s outfit again, “While this look is definitely more calm than your previous look, it’s less you.”

“But I’m not actually royalty,” Roman begins, staring at everyone in confusion, “It doesn’t make sense for me to pretend to be something I’m not.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, “That is literally what Thomas does for a living.”

Roman, steam rolling over Logan, kept on monologuing, “Last video I asked if the time for princes was over, and I’ve realized they are. I’m outdated, and if I want to stay relevant then I need an upgrade.”

Roman shrugged, looking away again. He really didn’t want to see it when they realized he was right.

“Roman Sanders!” Patton chastised, “You do not need to change for anyone else! You are perfect just the way you are you, you brave knight! You prince of my heart! You-”

“Patton!” Logan yelled, cutting off the moral side, “I don’t think that’s going to be much help right now.”

“I'm sorry,” Patton apologized sheepishly, before turning his gaze back on to Roman, “But I just want you to know what you wore before was you. You don’t need to change.”

“Princey I hate change,” Virgil practically growled, “Especially when it’s only going to hurt you.”

“Will you stop calling me Princey!”

“No! Because this isn’t what you want and we both know that!”

“Virgil, you need to calm down,” Logan told him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Remember why we didn’t go looking for the problem earlier?”

“Problem,” Roman scoffed, “You think I’m a problem?”

“No that’s-”

“Save it,” Roman sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m going to my room. Maybe I can come up with something you all won’t hate.”

He spared one glance at his friends before sinking back into his room, letting himself collapse onto his bed. How had this gone so wrong?

To say Virgil was scared to talk to Roman was an understatement, but he knew he had to. He was the one who sent Roman running back to his room after he showed them his new look anyway. Just the thought of seeing Roman in that outfit again had Virgil gritting his teeth. It wasn’t that it was bad, but Virgil had realized as soon as he saw it that that was what was making him anxious all day. Princey hadn’t felt like Princey, and it had sent the whole mindscape off kitler. At least, to him, it had anyway.

But now he had to fix it, even if that meant he actually had to talk to Roman, which hadn’t been his plan at all. He just wanted to make Roman realize the clothes weren’t good on his own and if the prince hadn’t been so stubborn-

“Virgil! I can feel you brooding through the door! Just come in.”

He could feel a blush creeping up into his cheeks as he pushed the door open.

“I wasn’t brooding,” he said, letting the door close behind him.

“Sure you weren’t you dark and stormy night,” Roman said fondly, looking over at him from the bed, before his expression soured, “You’re not here to insult me anymore are you?”

“No,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m actually here to apologize?”

Roman raised an eyebrow before sitting up and patting the bed beside him.

Virgil walked over, thinking his words over carefully before finally taking his seat.

“Look, we both know I obviously don’t like change and I had been looking all morning to find out what was making me anxious and then seeing you wearing something that wasn’t you sent me over the edge and I was a lot harsher than I meant to be, I’m sorry for that. However, I won’t apologize for telling telling you what you’re wearing now isn’t you because it’s not.”

Roman shook his head, “But it is isn’t it? I mean, I’m not really a prince. Besides, the fans don’t like me like this. I shouldn’t hold onto something no one likes.”

“This is your problem,” Virgil argued, keeping his head face towards the ground, “You care so much what they think, but that’s my job. Not yours. You don’t need to worry about what they think about you.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Roman stood up and started gesturing wildly, “They love you! They love Logan and Patton and everyone, but me! I swear they love all the Sander’s Shorts characters I made up more than they love me!”

Virgil watched in horror as tears started streaming down Roman’s face, he really wasn’t equipped to deal with this.

“Virgil am I really that unlikeable? Would they like my seven second characters more than they’d like me? Am I just that pretentious? Do I think so highly of myself that no one else can?”

“Ro...” was all Virgil said, before rising and opening his arms for the other side to fall into them.

They stayed like that for a bit, with Roman just crying into Virgil’s jacket, while the darker side tried to comfort him by rubbing his back. Virgil wanted to do more, he really did, but he wasn’t sure what would help. He wasn’t sure if he could help at this point, but he had to try.

“Roman,” he started, keeping his voice low and hopefully soothing, “People love you. Thomas loves you. We love you. You don’t have to change something you enjoy for them, because then it wouldn’t matter if they liked you or not. Don’t make yourself miserable for others, I learned that the hard way.”

Roman sniffled as he pulled away, “I don’t know what to do, and frankly I hate it. I should at least have an idea on what to do.”

“You just need to keep being you Roman,” Virgil assures, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Even if ‘you’ is arrogant and loud, I prefer it over you pretending to be someone you’re not.”

“Thanks,” Roman deadpanned, before they both burst into laughter. It took them both a couple of minutes to collect themselves, but when they did, both wore smiles.

“So,” Virgil began, drawing out the ‘o’, “When are you getting rid of that outfit?”

Virgil pouted as Roman busted out into laughter again, “Roman, I am serious, please you look like a wanna-be jock and I hate it.”

“Whatever you want, you emo nightmare,” Roman laughed, and snapped his fingers. Reverting his outfit back to its former glorious state, “Oh and Virge? Thanks.”

“It’s no problem Princey,” Virgil shrugged, fighting his blush, “Really, don’t mention it.”

“Hey, hey, hey Virgil. I guess I could say today, you were my prince.”

“One more word, and I won’t hesitate to end you.”

“Hmm you’re right, you’re more of a knight… Like a Stormy Knight! Get it?”

“You are not allowed around Patton anymore.”

[chaos-gremlinnn]

I deadass probably still will be in a state of gay confusion in 2021-

but happy New Year’s Eve ig

[sadthoughtsandponders-blog]

Dear b.b,

    It’s been a long time since we spoke and I don’t think we’ll ever speak again. You’re older than me by a long shot it seems, but when we’re older it won’t feel like anything. When I think about you, I see flames and the sun, but I often get blindsided by the good times. We laughed a lot.

    I think you were my concrete when everything changed. No matter where I went, nothing between us would change. It was stagnant for two years, but then we both had to start growing up. Our time felt short but plentiful and full of well meant words, but they seem washed out now and the sunset we shared seems grey. I don’t know why it seems sad, looking back, and why it seems so unreal. You were real. You are real, but somehow I feel fake. You were a stone I walked upon on a long journey to get to where I am and I am grateful for that fact, but the person you knew does not exist at the moment, and is instead a washed out and wrinkled version of them.

    When we talked in person for the first time it was in the living room of my nona’s. I was living there for a month and my room occupied of the open floor space with a blow up mattress. I didn’t really sleep for that month. When we talked, it was dark for me. The lights in the hallway were off and the moonlight was shadowed by clouds, but you, you were illuminated by lamp light on the bedside of your table. Your blonde hair cupped your face and your smile stretched beyond your cheeks. When you laughed, you covered your mouth and squinted your eyes. It made me feel grounded when the world around me felt like it was being ripped up by a hurricane.

    I don’t remember when we started to grow distant, but I think it was in the middle of of my the school year when I started to a new school. I met t.m and suddenly you didn’t want to talk anymore. It was okay because I was changing, and who you thought I was, wasn’t me anymore. But I missed our late night calls and I missed your laugh, but I was going different places.

    It’s hard to remember that year as anything but a dream because everything went by so fast and it all seemed fake. I wonder a lot about the cause and effect that lead up to that year, but I don’t think what happened to us would be any different. The glue that held us together was also dividing, and when they left, only we were left.

    Times change and people change and we never got a satisfying end. Sometimes we chat, but they seem forced and awkward. The ironic thing is I promised we would meet and even as we moved closer, we felt farther.

- n