I’m finally free some school!!! So in honor of that and this being my Birthday month all prices on my Etsy have been knocked down, new designs have been added with permanent specialty design sticker and holographic buttons, and new MINI PRINTS and bookmarks are up!
Princes now range from $1.50 to $3.50, with US free shipping only.
These mini prints are roughly 3X5 inches so I do mean mini. :3
(These are cropped as previews and not the full image)
Coming soon will be more Pride related works so stay on the look out for those!!!
Working on some more Thomas Sanders fanart. This is for something more specific and not as lavish as the last one, but I think it have the same amount of personality. Was happy to finally fit in all of the Sander Sides too!
P.S. What could they be spelling out? @thatsthat24
Here it is! The beginning of the fanfic! Please spread the word and give feedback. So far there’s some new fun characters and a lot of Catullus and Ovid an Dante and Virgil and Cicero and oh my. Stay posted for more :)
Lost and Gone Forever by Gemalighieri
Intro
September of that year was only slightly colder than usual, but still it felt like all of San Francisco was bundling up for a snowstorm that wasn’t coming. Berkeley campus had become nothing short of a beehive for nervous students trying to work their way through orientation. The professors saw the same thing every year. Some didn’t want to get jinxed, some didn’t want to get cursed, some were simply nervous for the sake for being nervous. It was the day life become a museum of disclaimers as it so often was, only it was slightly colder this year.
“Before you say anything, just know that I didn’t dress myself like this. it was my mother.” The tall, lanky boy in at least four sweaters said, squeezing himself and his bags through the doorframe of room 328. What amazing first words to come out of a roommate. Ovid couldn’t contain a grin as he stumbled in, nearly tripping over all of his bags.
“Please tell me you’re Gaius Catullus.” Catullus made a face, dropping his bloated luggage on the ground where he stood.
“Just call me Catullus.” He began shedding his sweaters and tossing them towards Ovid. “Hold those for a sec, will you?”
“Uh, sure!” Ovid replied, trying to catch as many sweaters as he could. Catullus stopped when he reached a simple white t-shirt. He stretched out his arms and heaved a gleeful sigh. Freedom at last.
“So you’re Ovidus Naso? Nice name! Rolls off the tongue real nice.” Catullus mused, taking his sweaters from Ovid and beginning to unpack his bags, something Ovid had yet to so much as contemplate doing.
“Thanks! You can call me Ovid, though. Still rolls, I think.”
“Ovid...Ovid…” Catullus tried out the new name. “You’re right, it does still roll!” He looked around the room. Two beds, a desk, a bookshelf, two nightstands and a bureau. “I’m just gonna put my crap together and if you wanna move it, go ahead. We’re roommates now, what’s mine is yours.” This guy was possibly the friendliest, most outgoing person Ovid had ever met. He was falling a bit in love with the words that spilled from his mouth. It seemed unfitting for the freckled, almost geeky looking kid who was currently spilling the contents of one of his bags onto the bed closer to the door. “Think you know what you’re gonna major in?” Catullus asked. his voice shook ovid from his observational state.
“Some kind of writing. Or english. I don’t know. I love words. I’m not good with them, but I like them.” Ovid laughed. Catullus flashed him a toothy grin, setting some clothes away in the drawers.
“No way! I’m going for the same thing! Bet you can’t be worse with words than I am!”
“I seriously doubt that.” Ovid laughed. It felt like every word out of this guy’s mouth was poetry. He was going to love every second they spent together. He knew it. Whoever had matched them could not have done a better job.
Catullus was now busy setting up trinkets on his bedside table. he looked over his shoulder at Ovid, who was staring at his bags, considering unpacking.
“Where are you from?” He asked after a bit of a silence.
“New Jersey. Cherry Hill.” Ovid replied. This statement made Catullus’s eyes grow wide with either excitement or disbelief, Ovid couldn’t place it.
“Well you’re far from home aren’t you!” He laughed. Ovid grinned and nodded.
“I am!” He turned and unzipped his bag. Watching Catullus unpack was making him want to do the same. “You?”
“Born and bred in San Fran. Oh this is awesome! I’m gonna show you all around town! I know the best places for everything! There’s this spot by the golden gate where you can see all the stars and I’ve got to take you there!” Catullus was stumbling over his words in excitement. Ovid had met this guy minutes ago but he was hooked. He felt himself getting excited about the golden gate bridge and the stars as well.
“Cool! I can’t wait!” He replied. Catullus stopped, looking at his bedside table, searching for room for a framed picture in his hands.
“Hold this?” He suddenly handed the picture to Ovid and began rearranging all of his various things to make room.
Ovid studied the picture carefully. It was a beautiful blonde with her hair all done up, wearing trendy clothes, smiling, sitting on someone’s front steps. Her teeth were white enough to blind a man. There was a signature in the corner, but ovid could not make out the name.
“Who’s she?” He asked, gesturing to the picture. “She looks like Heather Locklear.” Catullus looked over to him, the biggest grin adorning his face.
“That’s my Clodia. Isn’t she beautiful?” He stood behind Ovid, looking at the photo over his shoulder. “She’s still in highschool. Got two years left. God do I love that girl! She’s gonna be in movies one day, I swear. I’ll introduce you to her!” Ovid’s heart fell a little. He kept forgetting that he’d only met Catullus minutes ago, his universe didn’t revolve around him.
“She’s very beautiful.”
“Mhm…” Catullus hummed. “She’s perfect, that one.” A silence in which Catullus stared lovingly at the photo.
“So um...want me to play some music while we unpack? I’ve got a boombox.” Ovid suggested.
“What kind of music?” Asked Catullus, excitement in his eyes again.
“The Beatles...Frank Sinatra…” Ovid thought through the CDs he had. Catullus was shaking his head.
“Come on Ovid, it’s 1984! I’ve got the new Bruce Springsteen CD. We’ll listen to that.”
The two of them set up the boombox and listened to ‘Born in the USA’ as they unpacked. Catullus found himself smiling over at Ovid. Ovid caught his gaz and raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Catullus replied. “Rooming with you is just gonna be a real fun time.”
~~~
“Are you nervous, Tulliola?” Cicero asked, eyes locked on the traffic light ahead. He could make it before it turned red. He knew it. Just as the thought crossed his mind, the light went red. He put on the brakes with a sigh. “Because if you are we could always pull you out of the dorms. You could live at home and commute every day like I do. But I mean, I think it’ll all be fine. Just don’t start fights!” A nervous laugh and then a gulp. “And Catullus will be there! i mean not always but he’ll be on campus. He’s like a brother to you!” No response. “Tullia? It’s gonna be okay, I promise and-” Cicero looked over to the passenger seat to see his daughter not paying attention to a word he said. She had her headphones on and was listening to her walkman, mouthing the words of the song she was listening to. She glanced over to see her father looking at her intently and took off her headphones.
“Did you say something?” She asked. Cicero heaved a sigh.
“Nothing. I was just asking what you were listening to.” Tullia’s face broke into a grin that Cicero found contagious.
“Pat Benatar. Her voice is so...so powerful, Dad!” She gushed.
“I wouldn’t know, Tulliola! you never let me listen!” Cicero laughed.
“Here!” Tullia quickly switched the cassette from her walkman to the car cassette player. Pat Benatar’s voice was indeed powerful as it nearly jolted Cicero from his seat. Tullia sang along at the top of her lungs and Cicero didn’t have it in him to ask her to turn it down.
After that day, September 1st, 1984, things would never be the same. she was off to college, his one and only daughter. He was lucky to be a professor at Berkeley, but even so, it hurt to let her go. No more coming home to her smile. He’d be left alone in the silence of his house with nothing but his books. Tullia was the light in his life since the death of his wife. But there she was, sitting beside him, dark brown hair feathered like Farrah Fawcett’s, hazel eyes the centerpiece of some brightly colored eyeshadow. She was flying away.
They reached Berkeley at eight AM as Cicero did every morning. On a normal day he would’ve gone straight to his lecture room where he taught his courses on law and public speaking, but on that day, he helped Tullia carry her bags all the way up to room 348, her new home. Her roommate had yet to arrive.
“Guess you get to claim whichever bed you want!” Cicero applauded her. Tullia let out a laugh.
“I’ll wait for her to get here. I’m indifferent. She can have whichever one she wants.”
“What’s her name? Your roommate? Wasn’t it something kind of strange?” Cicero asked.
“Sappho.” Tullia replied, taking the room in. “This is beautiful…” A grin broke across Cicero’s lips.
“Only the best for my Tulliola.” He held his arms open for a hug. “I’m assuming you want me out of here by the time Sappho gets here.”
“Well no! I…” Tullia’s face read that she wanted him gone but didn’t have the heart to say it.
“I have to get to my class anyway. Even though I’d love to help you unpack your bags and-” Cicero was cut off by his daughter throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace. He held her close and tried to keep from crying. He’d cry later when he got home and she wasn’t there, but no way in hell was he going to cry in front of her.
“Do I have to call you Professor Dad now?” Tullia giggled. Cicero grinned into their hug.
“That’s Mr. Dr. Professor Dad to you!” Tullia giggled and pulled back to say her goodbyes.
“Alright. I’m gonna see you on campus!” She promised. A nod from her father.
“You have all of your medicine right? If you forgot clothes or books or whatever you may want, that’s fine. Just tell me and I’ll bring them. As long as you have your medicine.” Tullia gave him a nod. She pointed to a small bag sitting on top of her duffel. Cicero heaved a near sigh of relief. “Good.” A pause. Tullia took his hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Dad. Everything’s gonna be alright. Okay? I can handle this.”
“You’re right.” Cicero gulped. “You can.” This brought a grin to Tullia’s lips.
“I can.”
Epilepsy hadn’t killed Terentia, but it had been a part of her. And so it was a part of their daughter as well. With Tullia, though, it was more violent. A day didn’t pass when Cicero didn’t worry for her. She insisted she had it under control though and he put all of his faith in her. She knew her medicine, she knew her disease. He knew she would take care of herself. And if she didn’t, he’d bring her right home. Nothing was going to harm his Tulliola. Not even her own brain.
“Alright. I should get going.” The words stung Cicero’s tongue. Time to let her go. Tullia hugged him again.
“I love you Dad.” She said, voice wavering ever so slightly.
“I love you too Tulliola. You’re my sun, moon, and all the stars.” He pulled back and lifted her chin to see that her eyes were watering. “Hey. Don’t cry. I’m always right around the corner. Literally.” He laughed. Tullia nodded, the first tear rolling down her cheek.
“I know.”
“I’ll see you soon.” And with that, he turned and left to find Atticus, his best friend and colleague. He couldn’t bear to look at his daughter's face any longer or he would surely burst into tears. Perhaps Atticus would want to listen to some Pat Benatar with him.
Alone in her room, Tullia wiped away her tears. She wasn’t going to spend her college orientation crying over her dad. She decided to distract herself by starting to unpack her bags. She’d have to go find Catullus later. It had been months since she’d seen him. Their fathers were good friends and they’d known one another since they were small. She couldn’t wait to see him.
Sappho, on the other hand, had already seen him that day. She’d been navigating the campus and gotten caught behind some slow-walking boys and, trying to take it all in, had bumped into them, dropping the book she was clutching to her chest. One of the boys had looked her over as if she had three heads and given her book a little kick before taking off. Sappho had wasted no time purposefully stepping on the back of his shoe so that he toppled forward and onto the ground. his friends all began to laugh at him as she dusted herself off and retrieved her book. It was then that she saw him. Tall, lanky, and freckled, staring at her in awe, giving her a sort of crooked smile.
“I don’t like people who don’t respect books.” She said simply. Catullus had let out a laugh.
“Oh I like you!”
That had been the extent of their conversation. She didn’t even know his name, but she felt safe knowing that she already had a friend at college. Or at least someone who was willing to be her friend.
Sappho found her way to room 348 to find Tullia already there, folding clothes and setting them away in the drawers. She knocked on the doorframe and Tullia looked up, startled. She was immediately grinning as she took Sappho in.
“Are you Sappho?” Sappho gave her a slight grin and a nod.
“In the flesh.”
“Tullia Ciceronis. I’m your roommate!” Tullia chirped. Sappho let out a small laugh. This girl was adorable. “Wow...you look like...Joan Jett! But brighter somehow…” Tullia mused, taking in Sappho’s face.
“Thank you!” Sappho replied. “Nice to meet you, Tullia. Where you from?”
“Sonoma valley. Not far. You?” Tullia replied, eyes curious.
“Minnesota. Bit of a hike.” Sappho replied, taking note of the little giggle Tullia let out.
“I bet it’s real nice there.” Before Sappho could make any comment on it, Tullia was down to business. “I didn’t choose a bed yet. I’m indifferent. Which one do you want?” Sappho thought for a moment. She was indifferent too. She ended up just picking one at random. The one further from the door.
“How about that one?” She said, pointing to it. Tullia grinned at her.
“Perfect! I’ll take this one then.” She dropped her bags down on her bed and immediately got to work unpacking. Sappho watched her move. She was like a little honeybee. She practically buzzed when she worked. She found herself smiling.
“Tullia, I think this gonna be one hell of an arrangement.” Tullia smiled back, falling a bit in love with the words that came out of her mouth.
~~~
The last twenty-four hours were a blur to Virgil. All he could think of was holding Dante’s hand on the plane. The plane. Oh God flying made him sick. Dante, though. Dante and his very holdable hands had made it better. It wasn’t like when they laid on the bed Dante’s older brother’s pickup truck and held hands. This had been different. There was no starry Iowa sky. Dante’s hand was probably broken now and it was probably all his fault.
“You feeling any better now?” Dante asked, poking his head into room 316.Virgil, still pale, nodded from the bed, The stress of the whole thing was getting to him. Dante knew that. He knew how to deal with Virgil’s constant uneasiness, though. If he could calm him down back in Iowa, he could sure as hell calm him down in California too. Dante sat beside him and put his hand on his. “Just take it easy, okay? Your roommate’s gonna get here soon. My roommate knows him, says he’s real nice.”
“Horace?” Virgil asked, voice weak.
“Is that his name? Yeah!” Dante replied. Virgil offered his friend a weak smile.
“Who’s your roommate again?”
“Nic. Machiavelli. Seems like a real smart guy. I told him my best friend lived right across the hall and he’s looking forward to meeting you. He’s out getting something to eat right now. Poor guy hasn’t eaten in something like ten hours.” Dante paused and looked over at Virgil, a little nervous almost. “Speaking of which, you should probably eat something. You keep telling me you didn’t vomit after we got off the plane but that only leads me to believe that you’re lying.”
“I didn’t!” Virgil protested, his smile growing, looking down at his knees.
“Yeah sure!” Dante rolled his eyes playfully. “You only went stark white and rushed to the bathroom three times. Oh of course! How could I forget? That’s typical Virgil stuff!” He had Virgil laughing. Dante couldn’t contain a grin.
“Really, Dante. I’m fine.” He assured him.
“Alright.” Dante relented. “Just at least try to eat something within the hour.”
“Fine.” Virgil replied, having perked up with the laughter. There was a silence as Dante looked around the room.
“What do you know about your room mate?” He asked.
“We exchanged letters like...once.” Virgil began. “He’s studying writing just like us! He’s from Florida so he’s pretty far from home too. I’m actually...very excited to meet him.”
“That’s awesome! You two will hit it off right away, I know it.” Dante assured him. He gave the sleeve of Virgil’s sweater a tug. “You warm enough? Little cold here.”
“I’m fine.” Virgil replied. “You?”
“Nah. I’m not cold.” Dante let out a laugh. “I’m just wearing that sweater you love so much. I was waiting for you to ask me for it.”
“I’m not that predictable, Alighieri.” Virgil countered. They shared a laugh. There was a pause before Virgil changed the subject. “Are you already unpacked?”
“Ha!” Dante chortled. “Hell no! You were still recovering from the flight so I took a little walk while Nic got his stuff in order. Our neighbors are pretty cool.”
“What are they like?” Virgil asked, excitedly.
“Well…” Dante began. “Down that way,” he pointed left. “there’s Octavian from Michigan and Augustus from Vermont...then across from them there’s Petronius from Georgia and Macaenes from New Mexico. Then on this side,” he pointed to the right. “I met Antony from Washington and this really cool guy named Will Shakespeare from Oregon. Apparently he comes from a massive family.”
“They all sound so interesting…” Virgil mused. Dante had only said their names and where they’d lived before college and Virgil could already tell they were more interesting than he was.
Just then, Horace appeared in the doorway, his arms full of bags, a window box in his hand.
“Uh...hi. I’m..I’m Horace Flaccus. Are either of you Virgil Maro...because he’s supposed to be my roommate.” Silence. Dante gave Virgil a nudge.
“Me!” Virgil blurted. Oh God he was a mess and he’d only said one word. “I-I’m Virgil Maro. You’re in the right room.” Horace looked over at Dante, a bit confused.
“Ignore me.” dante said, standing up to leave. “Dante Alighieri. From across the hall. Nice to meet you Horace. And Virgil?” A stern glare. “Eat something.” And then he was gone. Why did he have to leave? Virgil felt so much stronger with Dante at his side. Dante always had the words he didn’t.
“I-it’s nice to meet you Horace!” Virgil forced his mouth into a smile. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just act natural?
“I brought you something.” Horace said. “In your letter you said you grew up on a farm and you liked flowers and bees and stuff so...here.” He held the window box out to Virgil. “I figure you can grow some flowers in the window and bees will come and you can have the bed closer to the window so then you can see them and it’ll be more like home and...yeah.” Virgil looked down at the window box in his hands. This was one of the most thoughtful gifts he had ever received.
“I don’t know what to say…” A very honest thing to come out of Virgil’s mouth. “Thank you so much, Horace. I didn’t bring you anyth-” Horace cut him off, voice a bit more joyful.
“You didn’t have to. I just wanted you to have that.” A pause. “I hope we become friends.” Virgil surprised himself, a grin breaking across his lips.
“Me too.” Those words felt so right. So perfect. He’d never known he could spin perfection from his mouth.
