#familial dlampr

[dustylogicalityrat]

the famILY according to the sides in the 5 year anniversary episode!

we got Sh!t-Talking Sassy Aunt Janus, Fresh-Outta-Jail Uncle Remus, Gay Emo Cousin Virgil, Mom Logan, Hotshot Son Roman, and Dad Patton!!

(my best friend suggested i doodled them like this in the style i'm trying out!)

@thatsthat24

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

Virgil Sanders: Space Ecologist

Based on this post

Word Count: 3024

Rating: Teen

Pairings: none, platonic DLAMPR, familial Anxceit

Warnings: swearing, over-polluted planet (not earth), aliens

This is mostly an excuse for me to be a giant biology nerd, but put it in space

~~~START~~~

“What’s the word, Lo?” Virgil asked as he checked over his instruments one last time before tucking them into his pack.  

“The atmosphere of Illill-ii contains a toxic amount of oxide-rich molecules that could impair the function of the carcinian systems of many species.” Virgil’s helper-bot, L0-G4 series N (Logan, or Lo, for short), reported from where he was currently nested in his charging port.  

The Borstian Mining company had just vacated Illill-ii after having already decimated most of the life the planet had once sustained. Now it was Virgil’s job to see what was left, and assess what could be gone.  

If anything.  

“And now, considering I am a human, and very much without a carcinian system?” 

“The atmosphere presents no health concerns that would require a human to wear a spacesuit, but the relatively high levels of carbon dioxide to O2 could pose possible health concerns if you are planning any activities more strenuous than regular walking. I would suggest bringing an emergency breathing pack, but a regular breathing apparatus will be unnecessary.” 

“Thanks, Logan! Now what about Patton?” 

“Ah!” Patton yipped, the pog bouncing up and down at the mention of his name.  

“I do not recommend exposing a pog to this atmosphere. Nor do I recommend bringing a pog on a scientific outing, especially one that is meant to observe the fauna of this planet.” 

“Aww he won’t disturb anything, will you buddy?” Virgil asked, putting his bag aside in order to pet Patton. “Will you?” 

“Wah ah!” Patton yipped.  

“Yeah? Good boy!” 

“I do not recommend bringing a pog along on this outing,” Logan repeated. “I also do not recommend using a pog as a companion beast, or allowing fratoos to continue their infestation of your ship, but you have made your opinions on my recommendations quite clear.” 

“Patton doesn’t need to be a ‘traditional’ companion beast to be useful,” Virgil replied, used to Logan being a little surly about this topic. “His job is to be cute and cuddly; and besides, he’s part of the family, and so are Roman and Remus!” 

“The pog and fratoos are not part of your family; you are not the same species.” 

“Family comes in all sorts of shapes and sizes, Lo. We’re all family; me, Pat, Ro, Re, and even you.” 

“Illogical,” the robot replied.  

“Your mom is illogical,” Virgil said as he dug around for Patton’s protective bubble. The atmosphere may be unhealthy for him, but he still needed to be able to run around a play somewhere that wasn’t quite as cramped as Virgil’s little ship.  

“I do not have a mother,” Logan stated just as chittering started up in the walls.  

Seconds later, a little green shape shot out from behind Virgil’s atmospheric monitor and flew straight towards the man himself.  

Virgil easily grabbed the fratoo out of the air, pinning his wings to his sides and ignoring it as the little guy began biting at the hapose leather of his glove. A moment later, a red fratoo followed suit, this one landing calmly on Virgil’s shoulder, butting his tiny head against Virgil’s neck.  

“Remus, Roman,” Virgil greeted the pair. They’d lived on the ship longer than Virgil himself, and since they didn’t actually mess with any of the vital systems of the ship, Virgil allowed the small dragon-like creatures to remain. To most of the universe, fratoos were a pest that needed to be dealt with, but to Virgil, the two were just another part of the family.  

Remus continued biting and chittering, content to play-fight with Virgil’s hand.  

“You’re not coming.” 

Roman nipped unhappily at Virgil’s ear in response.  

“I need you two to watch the ship while I’m gone,” Virgil explained.  

“I do not recommend–” 

“They aren’t actually watching the ship, Logan, that’s what the security system is for.” 

“Ah, very good.” 

Virgil rolled his eyes fondly; Logan could be such a worrywart — though he would deny any such claim as he “is a robot, completely incapable of emulating the emotions of organic organisms.” 

One last check to make sure his pack was ready with everything he would, or could need while out in the field, then Virgil placed Remus in a box on the top shelf of his supply cabinet — it would take the two fratoos about ten minutes to get him out, which was more than enough time for Virgil, Logan, and Patton to head out — and placed Patton in his protective bubble.  

“Ready to go, L?” 

“I am fully charged,” Logan replied, disconnecting from his charger and hovering over Virgil’s shoulder.  

“Then let’s go!” 

Virgil opened the hatch and allowed Patton to bounce out first, followed by Logan. He shot one last glance back at the fratoos and found Roman diligently at work trying to release the lid of Remus’s temporary prison. Trapping Remus worked very well to take both brothers out of the equation as Roman would try to free his brother; Remus, on the other hand, would seek revenge first, leaving Roman to stew in his prison for a while.  

Once the hatch was closed behind him, it was time to get to work.  

For about an hour, Virgil and Logan took measurements of air quality, soil content, plant coverage, all the while making note of every organism they came across. Then it was finally time for them to start on the biodiversity tests.  

Not that there was much bio to be seen, let alone a diverse amount; other than some more resilient grass-type vegetation, they’d barely found a single living thing.  

Well… that is, until they found the nest.  

The nest was small, the diameter being barely more than the size of Virgil’s hand. It was nestled within a valley between two large mounds of tailings leftover from the overmining of the planet. The nest was outlined with small rocks, then filled in with dried, brittle plant matter that would probably turn to dust if Virgil tried to touch it. Sitting on top of the dried nesting materials was a single large yellow egg with purple speckles, a green scale-like pattern, and a brown spiral line that ran around the egg looking almost like one long crack.  

“What species lays eggs like that?” Virgil wondered aloud, half to himself and half to Logan.  

“This type of egg is not in my database,” Logan answered, sounding just the slightest bit frustrated at this shortcoming.  

“Is it… alive, do ya think?” Virgil asked, stooping down to look at the egg from another angle, while still keeping a respectful distance from the egg — if an animal-like organism laid this egg, he didn’t want to potentially scare it off.  

“Unlikely,” Logan answered. “There are no signs that anything other than us has come to this area in quite some time; if the egg had been viable, it is likely stillborn.” 

Virgil stared at the egg, then stood to survey their surroundings. There was nothing but piles of tailings and tall, coarse grass as far as the eye could see. The only trails through either the loose dirt or easily bendable grass were those belonging to Virgil or Patton — who was happily bouncing around in his bubble near a tailings pile in between where Virgil and Logan were studying an unknown egg and where Virgil’s small ship was parked — there was nothing to indicate that the egg had any kind of parent, at least not one that checked in on it at all.  

Mind made up, Virgil reached out to grab the egg. He cupped it gently, making note of shape and weight as he raised it up to his face; he couldn’t feel the texture through his gloves, but after closer inspection maybe he’d take the gloves off.  

The egg was heavy for its size, and from what Virgil could tell through the worn hapose leather, it was cold and rough. Virgil brought it up to his face for a closer inspection of the colors and patterns decorating the shell.  

“Are you sure you don’t know–” Virgil started, only to be cut off by the top of the egg lifting off to reveal a small, reptilian face.  

Virgil blinked at it in shock, but before he could do anything, the small head shot forward and small fangs pierced the skin of his nose.  

“GAH!” Virgil screeched, losing his grip on the egg in shock.  

The egg fell to the ground where it uncurled along the brown lines to reveal a small snake-looking creature with thick armor along its back. The snake quickly slithered back to the nest where it curled back up, looking once more like an egg.  

“What the fuck!?” Virgil hissed, clutching his lightly-bleeding nose with one hand.  

Patton, having been attracted by Virgil’s yelps, came bounding over, stopping just short of the nest and huffing indignantly at the “egg”.  

“Ah,” Logan said. “That is a fledgling of a Transformation Viper. Observing them in their fledgling stage is uncommon; this is a rare opportunity.” 

“A transformation viper?” Virgil asked, grabbing the still huffing Patton and holding him out of reach of the alien viper. “Scientific name?” 

“None available,” Logan answered.  

“How can there be no scientific name available?” 

“The planet of origin is unknown; therefore, a scientific name cannot be given. This species is quite difficult to track down, and finding a pure one is so rare that sequencing its original genome and thereby pinpointing its planet of origin has so far proven impossible.” 

“Okay… so can’t we sequence this one?” Virgil asked.  

“No,” the robot replied. “This transformation viper is no longer pure. Already its DNA is changing and integrating your DNA into its own genome.” 

“It’s WHAT!?” 

“A transformation viper gets its English name from its ability to integrate the DNA of other organisms into its own genome much like earth bacteria do when undergoing transformation. They acquire DNA from various donors by biting them — much like this one bit you just moments ago — and are capable of performing a complete overhaul of their physiology while in their fledgling stage; they continue this process after their fledgling stage, but they are no longer capable of making large physiological changes.” 

“…so– I– it’s–” Virgil stuttered, his mind racing to try and keep up with all this new information. “That — that thing– the viper thing — is going to be a human?” 

“There are no known occurrences of transformation vipers biting humans while in their fledgling stage,” Logan answered. “However, based on information from known transformation viper hybrids, this fledgling will become physically, mentally, and emotionally similar to a human young after emerging from its fledgling stage.” 

“It’s gonna be a child?” 

“Statistically speaking, that is the most likely outcome.” 

“…I’m not ready to be a father.” 

~~~ 

“I do not recommend–” 

“I know, Lo,” Virgil sighed. “I know, but if this–” he gestured to the sealed box that he had carefully moved both the transformation viper and its (his, as Logan had informed him would be the most likely outcome) nest into earlier “–is going to become a sentient, partially human child, then I have some responsibility to take care of him, and that means bringing him onto the ship.” 

“You have no such obligation to it,” Logan informed him. “It is a wild animal that was inhabiting a dying planet.” 

“Too late,” Virgil sing-songed as he carefully transferred the ‘egg’ from its box to the terrarium he’d built for it over the last couple days. “He’s my son now; his name is Janus, after an old earth story.” 

“You become attached to other life-forms much too easily,” Logan observed, unimpressed.  

“The human pack-bond instinct is strong,” Virgil joked. He tested the lid of the terrarium to make sure that Janus wouldn’t escape until he’d left his fledgling stage and became less likely to bite the other occupants of Virgil’s ship. “Janus will understand when he’s older… probably.” 

Having devoured every piece of information he could about transformation vipers, Virgil had come to the conclusion that towards the end of his fledgling stage, Janus’s armor would resolidify back into a real egg, which he would then hatch from as a viper/human hybrid baby. The best thing Virgil could do for him for now was keep him safe and warm.  

Hence the terrarium.  

Roman and Remus had landed on the lid of the terrarium and were inspecting their new shipmate carefully. There wasn’t much to see as Janus preferred to take the form of an egg unless he was threatened or hunting, but they were still curious.  

Patton was much less interested in Janus, having decided on that first day that he didn’t like the viper. Mostly he either ignored the terrarium, or glowered at it from a distance.  

Logan remained unimpressed by Virgil’s actions, but still monitored Janus’s development closely (the chance to observe a fledgling transformation viper was rare after all).  

Over the next several weeks, Virgil continued his survey of the planet, moving from location to location every few days. In all the biomes he visited, he found signs of only the most resilient native species; by his estimations, over eighty percent of the native species of Illill-ii were completely extinct, and eighty-seven percent of the biomass was decimated.  

The planet would never return to what it had been before the mining company had moved in; the best they could do was monitor it as it grew back.  

Who knows, maybe new life will emerge from the destruction.  

By the time it was time to depart from Illill-ii, Janus had exited his fledgling stage, and was now a proper egg once more. Though he had searched high and low, Virgil had been unable to find any trace of any other transformation viper on Illill-ii, leaving Janus’s origins as a complete mystery.  

It happened on their tenth day in space.  

They were ten days past Illill-ii, and two days out from Eco-6 (the station that Virgil normally operated out of), when the egg hatched.  

Virgil’s ship was small — just a single person control room, one small living space that he had mostly set up as a lab, and a washroom that was little more than a closet. He hadn’t needed a whole lot of space, seeing as it was just him, a series N robot, a small pog, and two tiny fratoos.  

Now though… Well, one tiny cot in the corner of a lab wasn’t going to be enough space for Virgil and a baby.  

Virgil was lying on his cot — Patton curled up on his chest and Roman and Remus nesting peacefully in the folds of his blanket — when suddenly there were the quiet sounds of cracking, followed by much louder sounds of crying.  

“The transformation viper has hatched,” Logan informed him needlessly from his charging port.  

“Thanks, L!” Virgil pushed himself out of bed (careful not to send anyone flying) and launched himself across the room.  

In the terrarium, the thick shell of the egg was now broken, strewn about the enclosure. Where the egg had once been, a baby — much smaller than a regular human baby, but the right size to have come out of the egg.  

The baby’s skin was the same yellow as the egg shell, with purple freckles and small patches of green scales littering his body. His hair was thick, coarse, and brown, and in his mouth — open as he wailed — were two small fangs.  

“Hi Janus,” Virgil breathed as he set about opening the terrarium.  

Janus stopped crying at the sound of his voice and opened his eyes to blink owlishly up at him. His eyes were mismatched as they stared at Virgil in wonder — one very human, and green like Virgil’s own, and one very snake-like, slitted pupil and yellow iris.  

Finally, Virgil had the terrarium lid open and lifted Janus out of the dirt. He was heavy for his size, and while he was much smaller than a newborn, he was also more developed than one, being able to sit up and support his neck without Virgil’s help.  

“Welcome to the crew, kid.” 

Roman and Remus hovered around Virgil’s head, watching the baby curiously. Roman in particular seemed to have caught Janus’s attention as the baby followed his movement closely.  

“I do not recommend allowing–” 

But Logan didn’t get a chance to finish his statement before Janus’s hand had suddenly shot out and snatched the little red fratoo right out of the air, and stuffed him into the baby’s mouth.  

“NO!” Virgil screeched, prying the little guy out as he chittered and thrashed nervously.  

Once Roman was freed from Janus’s mouth, he shot away, glaring at the baby from a safe distance from over by the monitor bank.  

Patton, having been alarmed by both Virgil’s and Roman’s distress, was yipping frantically, bouncing all around. Remus, on the other hand, seemed amused by his brother’s sudden shock and was continuing to dart around Janus playfully.  

Janus took a moment to realize that his chew toy had been taken away, before breaking into a new bout of wailing.  

“It’s okay! It’s okay,” Virgil said, trying to soothe the upset baby. “We’ll find you something else to chew on. Something that isn’t alive, okay?” 

He scanned frantically around the room, but unfortunately, he didn’t have much to offer that would be safe for a baby (he hadn’t exactly been expecting to acquire one while out doing routine field work). In the end, he had to make do with an old sock rolled up into a ball, and while that did soothe the baby, it wasn’t exactly an ideal solution.  

“I do not recommend–” 

“Then what do you recommend, Lo?” Virgil cut the robot off impatiently.  

Logan did not reply.  

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Look, when we get back to base, I can get some baby-appropriate supplies, but until then, we have to work with what we’ve got, okay?” 

“I recommend applying a clean towel as a diaper; sooner rather than later,” Logan finally said.  

“Thanks, L,” Virgil sighed, the reality of having a — mostly — human baby finally hitting him.  

It was going to be a long two days back to base. 

~~~END~~~

I have a lot more thoughts about the biology of Janus’s species that didn’t fit into their fic, so if you want to hear them just let me know. I’d love be just go super-nerd

I spent a long time debating whether Janus should be a transformation viper or a conjugation viper, but I decided that transformation was closer to what he was doing (but I still think conjugation sounds cooler)

Might make this into a series idk

General taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @knight-shives @misunderstood-shadowling

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Protecting the Aspen Witch

Hey, sorry this isn't very specific, but I was rereading Protector earlier and wanted to know if you could maybe write more from that universe? Brain's not braining much rn, so I'm afraid that's the most detailed I can be haha. But any h/c from that universe would make me extremely happy. Maybe they actually have a conversation about Virgil's trauma? – anon

Read on Ao3 Masterlist

Warnings: panic attack/dissociation

Pairings: DLAMPR

Word Count: 4798   

 Virgil’s got a simple code when he’s not on a hunt. Don’t hurt whatever you don’t absolutely have to, and odds are, it won’t hurt you. Now and then there’s a bit of an, um, incident where that doesn’t quite work out as well as they’d hoped, but by and large they get by.

On another quest to the Aspen Witch, something goes...a little awry.

Truly, going to see the Aspen Witch isn't the worst quest in the world. In another set of circumstances, he would be grateful for such a well-traveled road, or even just to be able to go somewhere that he knows.

In this world, however, he thinks that the next time someone needs something from the Aspen Witch, he'll tell them to go themselves.

(He won't, he knows he won't, but he likes to imagine for one moment that he might consider it.)

In any case, at least this time he's not bartering for something on behalf of someone else. He's making a delivery on behalf of Elise, a sweet girl in the village who accidentally pissed off the wrong warlock. (See, this is why he'd never actually be able to tell someone else to go, because either he's bartering, which means it's for something that'll help a lot of people, or it's for someone who would definitely be in grave danger if they tried to go alone.) The warlock hadn't taken too kindly to Elise's accidental questioning of their source of magic, even though that wasn't what she was intending at all, and bestowed a powerfully cursed amulet into Elise's possession while she slept. The amulet held a potent attraction charm to coerce Elise into putting it on, and once on, induced paranoia so severe the poor girl's screams could be heard all the way from Virgil's home.

Needless to say, he's taking it far, far away to be destroyed.

He accepted nothing more than a small bag of coin—smaller than his pouch of agrimore dust, the family wasn't exactly in the position to spare a lot of money—and promised Elise to see to it that the amulet never touched her again. Truly it was just a matter of keeping it wrapped in skeldor hide until he reached the Aspen Witch to limit the potency and then, well, then the Aspen Witch would have to know what to do.

Part of him wondered if he would see any of the Five—of course there were five of them and of course they were known by some ridiculous name—when he set off, but there weren't any strange things in his garden, nor did any of them decide to appear when he beds down at the boulder, across the bridge, even when he gets into the valley. No, he manages to make it all the way to the Aspen Witch without running into any of them.

If he were still the adventurer he was years ago, he'd take that as good fortune. If he's going off of what he knows now, he knows enough to be a little wary of their absence.

And if he's being truly honest, something he does try to refrain from outside the safety of the walls of his home, he might be a little disappointed.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts as he approaches the Aspen Witch's grounds. He winces when he stumbles right into the brambles of the crimson thornbushes and feels them tear through his cloak. His fingers almost twitch to his dagger, but then he steels himself. These are the grounds of a magic user, after all, and he would treat them with respect even if he suspected these plants to be totally normal if he decided to slice them open.

With the changing of the seasons, night falls much earlier than it had the last time he ventured this far. The sun is already at the tops of the trees as he approaches the door, several candles already flickering through the windows. He takes a deep breath, takes a moment to check that everything is still where it's supposed to be, and knocks on the door.

"Yes?"

"I am the adventurer known as Virgil. I have come to deal with the Aspen Witch."

"Ah, Virgil! Yes, come in."

He feels something in the door shift and he pushes it open. The bell over the top of the door rings. The Aspen Witch smiles at him from behind her table of treasures; a brickleback spine sits under her hands where she is…obtaining something from it. She sets the tool she's using down with a clink and reaches to pick something up from her side.

"I have prepared for you a drink," she says as Virgil sits, "to ease your burdens."

"I would like to know what is inside it."

"Sunflower nectar, moon blossoms, and honey. It is meant to relax you."

"I recall a similar drink being offered the last time I came."

"You are correct, I offered you a similar drink."

"I would like to know if this one is different than the one you offered last time in any meaningful way."

One of her many rings taps against the edge of the cup. "It has less of the added moon blossoms than the last, which renders it less potent."

Less potent? "I have slaked my thirst at the last waterfall."

Something flickers across her face and she smiles, moving the drink aside. "Another time, then. You are still reeking of curse energy, but this one is different. I would like to know why."

"I have brought you a cursed amulet in the hopes that you would relieve the burden of its intended recipient."

"Show me." Virgil extends the amulet, still wrapped in the hide, and she takes it. She sets it on the table and runs her fingers over the leather strap holding it in place. "This is a fine specimen of hide, Virgil. I would like to know where you obtained it."

"On a past contract."

"I would like you to be more specific."

He says nothing. The Aspen Witch looks at him for a moment longer before she laughs and shakes her head.

"Perhaps another time." She undoes the leather strap carefully and withdraws the amulet. It glistens in the candlelight as she turns it back and forth. "This is a vindictive magic. I would like to know how you came into contact with it."

Is it his imagination, or does the Aspen Witch sound…put out? "The village I live near to. The curse befell a child."

"I would like to know the origins of such a curse, if you would share."

"It is my understanding that the child's intentions behind a question were misunderstood and the magic user sought the consequences they saw fit."

The Aspen Witch's fingers twitch on the chain. She examines the amulet anew and toys with the link near its base. Something darkens in her expression and Virgil tries to keep his hands still. "This was bestowed upon a child, you have said."

"I have said that it was bestowed upon a child."

Her mouth tightens. "I would like to tell you why this is unacceptable."

A chill runs through the cabin. "I would like to ask for clarification on your last statement."

"You may ask."

"I would like to know what it is you find unacceptable: that the child was bestowed a cursed object, that the child was bestowed this cursed object, or that I have said that it was a child to whom it was bestowed."

He must be imagining things because it looks like her expression softens, even the slightest bit. "The second of your list. It is unacceptable that a child was bestowed such a curse. I would like to explain why."

Thank fuck. "I would listen to an explanation."

The Aspen Witch lays the amulet back down on the hide and reaches for something else. She takes a long stick from a drawer and snaps it over the amulet. As the pieces of it start to drift down, they take on different colors and hover in the air.

"Curses have three main derivations," she says as she does so, "either they affect the accursed's mind, their body, or their soul. Mind curses are difficult to break as they require some level of consent from the accursed. Body curses are the most varied but are not that difficult to break, especially if they are familiar with the curse itself."

They look down to see the particles have turned a vivid bloody red. The Aspen Witch's nails scrape against the table.

"Soul curses are vile things," she spits with more emotion than Virgil has ever seen or heard from her, "and they can erase a person if they are not done with extreme skill."

Virgil's mouth runs dry. "I…would like to know what you mean by 'erase.'"

"No," the Aspen Witch says lowly, "you do not."

Alright, no, I do not. That's good enough for me.

With a flick of her wrist, she disperses the particles and wraps the amulet back in the hide. She takes a deep breath and steadies herself—what the fuck has Virgil walked into if the Aspen Witch has to steady herself?—before she looks at him again.

"I would like to know what you intend to provide as payment."

"I recall you mentioning the value of curse energy upon our last visit."

"You would offer the energy of this curse as the payment for removing it."

"I would offer the energy of the curse as payment for its removal."

The Aspen Witch looks at him for a moment longer before she nods and stands, retrieving the amulet from within the hide and sliding the hide over for Virgil to take. "I accept this payment."

He takes the hide silently and puts it back in his pack, watching as she walks over to another table. She places the amulet in a pestle and takes various jars down from the shelf above. He watches as she sprinkles things over the amulet and soft motes of light begin to emerge as she murmurs under her breath. When the glow is strong enough to rival one of the candles, she takes the mortar and brings it down.

Three things happen at once.

First, he sees pieces of the amulet shatter, ricocheting hard enough to dig grooves into the walls of the house.

Second, there is an overwhelmingly loud boom.

Third, something crackles outside and the whole building shakes.

The Aspen Witch's head whips around, staring not at Virgil but over his shoulder in the direction of the door. The mortar falls from her hands as she narrows her eyes. Virgil holds his hands up slowly, indicating that he's not about to do shit right now, and he carefully turns to look over his shoulder.

The door is still intact, but something in his instincts prickles along the back of his neck. He looks back.

"I would like to know what that was," he says as quietly as he can.

"Yes," the Aspen Witch says as she begins to walk over, "so would I."

Great, magic stuff happening that the magic user doesn't know. This is just great.

She passes him in the chair and opens the door, leaving it wide enough for Virgil to peer over her shoulder. He stands, very slowly, and tries to angle himself so he can see what's going on.

Another magic user—he's assuming, after what just happened, but he thinks it's a pretty safe guess—stands in the center of the plot of grass in front of the house. A sigil is burned and seared into the ground, and he winces.

This isn't going to go well.

"You are trespassing," the Aspen Witch says with her words full of ice and fuck it, Virgil's ready to run, "you will cease to do so."

"You destroyed something of mine," the warlock says, extending a hand, "that gives me the right to see it reversed."

"You are the foolish one who sought a soul curse upon a child?"

"I sought what was due to me for such a slight," they spit back, "as well should you know that we aren't to be questioned. And how did you hear about this, is it from the thick-headed bull that leers over your shoulder?"

Virgil's just about to edge his way out of this conversation, thank you very much, when the Aspen Witch's hand, the one behind her back, twitches.

"You will not speak of him like that."

What's going on?

"Why not? He's an adventurer, isn't he?" The warlock laughs, high and cruel and Virgil needs to get a hold of himself before something bad happens. "They're all the same, big and dumb and grunting animals that only care about coin and stopping magic users."

The words strike a chord in his chest and he tries not to let the hurt show to obviously on his face.

"Is he your pet?" The warlock's smile turns into lascivious. "Did I interrupt you in the midst of something? You of all people should understand, then, is it any harm that I wanted to make one for myse—"

The warlock doesn't get to finish their sentence as the Aspen Witch's hand flies out and a mass of thorns erupts from the earth, ensnaring them in a tangled web of crawling plant life. Virgil's hand lands on the hilt of his sword and he just as quickly wrests it away. He's not looking to make himself a target in this after all.

"Touchy," the warlock laughs—take a fucking hint, just get out while you still can— "did he tell you about that cute little thing in the village, then? Has the great Aspen Witch gone soft?"

"You are welcome to test that assumption at your earliest convenience."

Don't fucking test it. Get the fuck out. Be smart for twenty consecutive seconds and fucking run, you idiot.

The warlock doesn't. Instead, they start on about some great speech and self-aggrandizing, but Virgil sees one of their hands make a somatic component and he doesn't think.

Truly, it might be him that's gone soft. There was a time where he would already be gone, or tucked away inside out of sight. There was certainly a time where if two magic users starting casting on each other, he would not be anywhere near it.

But, he can only be who he is, no more and no less. So when he sees the component taking shape, he moves on instinct to shove the Aspen Witch out of the way and get his gauntlet up to take the full force of the spell.

The world goes black.

***

    "—il! Virgil!"

Distantly, he registers the sound of a voice. The air crackles.

"Virgil! I would—oh, hells."

Something is dragging him. His head bumps something. He's hauled up and propped against something—a wall?

"Virgil," the voice says again, he knows that voice, "Virgil, open your eyes."

He does, only for blurry things to swim in front of him. He closes them again.

"Virgil." He definitely knows that voice. "Virgil, you must open your eyes."

He tries again, blinking a few times. The first thing to come into focus is the candle on the table closest to him. The second is the hand on his shoulder, laden with rings. Only when he traces the hand to the arm up to the head does he realize who was speaking to him.

"There," the Aspen Witch says in a rush, "there. That is better."

All at once, the memories of what happened flood his brain. The amulet. The warlock. The somatic component. The spell—

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. He interfered with a magic battle. He took a spell meant for the Aspen Witch. He touched the Aspen Witch without permission, he shoved her out of the way, he—he—

"Stay," he hears as two hands land on the sides of his neck, "do not go where I cannot find you, stay here."

He blinks. The Aspen Witch is closer now, her eyes scanning his face. He swallows.

"Don't speak," she says when he opens his mouth, reaching and pressing something warm into his hand, "drink first."

I would like to know what is in it, he tries to say, but all that leaves his throat is a ruined gasp.

"It is the same drink I offered you before," she says, as though she could hear him—can she?— "it is unchanged. It is to help you relax. Drink."

He's already risked too much to afford to say no. He raises the drink to his lips and takes the smallest of sips. The warm, sweet liquid is like a balm to his sore throat and he takes another sip right away. The Aspen Witch watches him closely, one hand still on his shoulder.

"I…" He swallows, testing his voice. "I am…grateful for the drink."

"I am relieved to hear it helped." She cups his hand around it. "I will provide more should you wish it."

"Are you—I would like to know if you're—" he coughs— "if you're alright."

Her expression twitches and he knows he doesn't fully suppress his flinch, not with her this close, not with her looking at him like that. "You took a spell that was meant for me. You saved me. You defended me. And you have been hurt because of it."

Her hand moves slowly from his shoulder to his cheek.

"I…do not know what to do," she confesses softly, "we did not agree on payment."

"I do not require payment," he says as quickly as his throat will let him, "I did not—you don't—this is not an act that would require payment. You do not—I would—fuck."

He isn't lucid enough to do this. He can't do the careful and wary conversation that he has to right now, he can't—he can't—

"I will not bind your tongue," the Aspen Witch says, her hand still gentle on his face, "you…if you wish, you can speak."

No, he can't. He can't because he'll fuck it up and then—then—

Her hand leaves his face. "I will call the Five."

"No!"

Everything freezes.

He just told the Aspen Witch what to do. He just told the Aspen Witch no. He just—he just—oh, fuck—

"I mean—I m-mean—"

"I am not angry," she says, "I…you do not need to be so afraid. I will not harm you. I would like to know why you do not want your sweet ones to come and help you."

"I—my what?"

"Your sweet ones. The ones who care for you and whom you care for." She tilts her head, hair falling to one shoulder. "You do not wish for them to come, and I am curious."

"They're a lot," he manages and she laughs.

"Yes, they are. But they know you. They would help you."

"They're—" he takes another drink and feels his tongue relax. "All of this has happened because another magic user intruded on your grounds."

"These would be invited, and they would be to help you. I could bear no ill tidings against them, not when you are in need of assistance I cannot provide." At his face, her smile saddens. "You are afraid, and I cannot help you, for you are afraid of me too."

…well, there's really not much he can say to that.

"I will call them," she says carefully, so carefully it's almost a question, and he nods. She nods as well and stands. "If you would like more drink, I would wish for you to say."

Less than a few moments later, after she's gone to a table out of sight, he hears Roman's voice.

"Aspen Witch," and oh, fuck, he never thought he'd be so relieved to hear one of them, "you have called us."

"Come," she calls, walking toward the door and opening it, "your sweet one is hurting."

He blinks and in an instant, Roman is there, cupping his face, looking all worried and he can't stop the tears welling in the corners of his eyes. Roman sees them, because of course he does, and then he's cooing and leaning forward to kiss his forehead.

"Oh, baby," he whispers, "baby, what happened?"

"What happened," he hears Logan ask at the same time, "is he alright?"

"He came to me with a cursed object and asked for its removal. As I destroyed it, the warlock responsible appeared and attempted to wrest it back. He…jumped in the way of the spell."

He hears a flutter of fabric and looks up to see both Janus and Remus at the table where the amulet was destroyed. Remus curses and Janus hits the table and the noise bounces around his head—

"Shh, shh," Roman murmurs, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs, "eyes on me, baby, stay with me. There you are, with your pretty eyes, shh, that's it, you're doing very well."

"What sort of spell," he hears Patton ask, "is it still there?"

"I banished it as soon as the warlock was dealt with. He—there should be no lingering effects. I do not understand."

"Mortal minds are fragile," Logan says softly, "and Virgil has been an adventurer for many years. He has encountered a great number of things, magical or otherwise, and it would be unreasonable to assume that they have not left their marks."

"Baby," Roman calls again, and Virgil looks back at him, "hey, there he is. The others are just trying to figure out what's going on, but you and I are gonna take care of you first, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good. Now, I just want you to keep looking at me, okay? All I'm gonna do is touch you, okay? No magic, no casting, just touch." His fingers start to card through his hair and Virgil immediately feels his eyes get heavy. "You can close your eyes if you need to, just lean against me, I've got you, I'm right here."

The adrenaline from everything finally starts to wear off and Virgil feels his body decide to give in. He sags forward into Roman's waiting embrace, eyes falling shut as Roman starts to murmur sweet nonsense. After another moment, he hears Patton come over too and another hand scratches lightly between his shoulder blades. He nearly whimpers from sheer relief before he remembers that he's not at home, he's in the Aspen Witch's house, and the Aspen Witch herself is less than a few feet away.

He wrenches himself back awake, looking up at her, and to his surprise, she looks…upset? He glances at Logan, just to her left, and Logan simply smiles.

"Hello," he says softly, "are you alright?"

"I think so."

"Good, that's very good. You jumped in front of a spell and you didn't know what it was?"

"Wait," Roman says, "you did what?"

He sets his jaw and looks at the ground. Patton shoots a look at the two of them. "Don't scold him, can't you see he's already upset? Don't make it worse."

"Sorry, baby," Roman murmurs, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "I'm not mad."

"Neither am I," Logan says, "but I am…confused."

"You shouldn't be," Janus says, finally moving away from the table, "he's Virgil, of course he jumped in front of the spell."

Well, that's not helping anything either. He feels his face start to burn and tries to pull away from Roman, but he's held fast. He swallows the instinctive wave of panic and buries his face in the crook of his shoulder.

"Aww, are you embarrassed?"

"You are making things worse," the Aspen Witch says, a bite to her tone, "I called you to help, not to hurt."

"We won't tease," Roman promises, both to her and to Virgil, "we're finished, you have my word."

Did…did the Aspen Witch just defend him? What in the fuck is going on? He risks a look at her and their eyes meet and something…something feels wrong.

"Virgil?" Patton's hand stills on his back. "What's wrong?"

"I am…also confused."

"What about?"

There's no polite way to say this and no, he isn't going to risk it right now, so he just looks from Patton back to the Aspen Witch and hopes that somehow, they'll get the gist of what he's trying to say. Sure enough, it takes Patton one look between the two of them before he's smiling.

"Oh, she's just jealous."

"What?"

"I would ask that you don't speak for me," she hisses but she sounds far more like Elise than the Aspen Witch.

"Tell him yourself, then."

The Aspen Witch scowls at him for a moment before she sighs and looks at Virgil. Her mouth twists around as if searching for the words before she sighs again.

"Your etiquette for magic users is exemplary," she says, "and you…for all that we have interacted, I do not know much about you."

She gestures around.

"The Five have your trust, they have your words. They…have not known you for as long as I have."

Oh.

Oh.

"I can't help you," she continues, "I…am upset by this. I would—I—"

She closes her eyes for a long moment and then opens them once more.

"I want to help you, Virgil, I want you to let me help you."

He likes to think that on a normal day, perhaps he wouldn't be doing something like this, but this isn't a normal day, and he's already broken that glass. So he reaches out a hand to the Aspen Witch, and when she takes it, he uses it to pull her a little bit closer.

She comes and crouches next to Patton, holding his hand as though it were the most precious thing in the house. He's not quite sure what to do with that.

"Are you alright?"

She nods. "I am alright."

"I liked the drink."

"I am glad. I will offer it to you again."

"I will accept it."

"Listen to you both," Remus snorts, and Janus whacks him upside the head. "Ow!"

"Ignore him, you're both doing wonderfully. Carry on, pretend we aren't here."

And you know, that's a bit too much for him to deal with right now. So when he feels the tug in his gut to start feeling things again, he closes his eyes and goes limp in Roman's hold, letting tears spill from his face. The Aspen Witch jerks in alarm but Patton must be saying something to the effect of this is normal, he's just overwhelmed, you gotta let him be a crybaby sometimes, but he's not paying attention because he's too goddamn tired.

Distantly, he registers Roman stroking his hair again, Patton's hand on his back, and the Aspen Witch beginning to squeeze his hand every few seconds, but with the apprehension of someone who's never pet a horse before trying to interact in a way that won't upset either of them. It's quite a surreal experience, really, and he thinks he can be forgiven for not wholly understanding what's going on.

A lot's happened today, and it's late. He should be asleep.

"He is hurt," the Aspen Witch says and everybody wakes up a bit at that, "let me help him."

"What's wrong?"

"The thorns have hurt him on his way through. I have a salve for them."

"Virgil," Logan asks, "is that okay? Can we help?"

He mumbles a vague agreement and he hears Janus laugh. "Poor thing's all sleepy. He needs a rest, is there somewhere we can tend to him?"

"Upstairs, there is a bed."

"Can I carry you, baby?" Virgil nods and Roman lifts him up almost effortlessly. "There, come on, upstairs, now."

As they pass the table, he forces himself to rouse and look to find the Aspen Witch. "The amulet—the child—"

"The child will suffer no more, the curse is gone." She puts her hand on his shoulder. "Now rest. Mortals are fragile, you must allow yourself to be cared for."

"He's not very good at that," Remus stage-whispers and Janus hits him again. "Hey! Stop it!"

"Stop being an insufferable ham sack, then."

"He's right," Virgil mumbles as he's put down on a bed, "I'm really not great at it."

"You're getting better," Logan says, sitting near his head, "now, you can try and sleep. No harm will come to you, you're safe here."

He looks over at the Aspen Witch, holding a tin of salve and a soft towel. She smiles and nods. "No harm will ever come to you under my roof, Virgil. I will see to it that you are safe."

"I…am grateful for that."

"As am I."

Not how he saw the quest ending, of course, but indeed, far from the worst quest in the world.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Fuck it, vote for your favourite out of my favourites and I'll draw them being cute or smth

Idk I'm bored

I don't know when I'm actually gonna do this so the poll is set for a week, who knows lol

[does-this-look-logicality-to-you]

patton for the ask game

also asked by @morality-the-hufflepuffpuff

a song that reminds me of them mmm... i see "ordinary" by joriah kwame, since it was written about a character with a lot of parallels to patton.

what they smell like cookies and a sense of belonging

an otp [looks at camera as if on the office]

a notp i'm open to most of the pairings involving patton, but i'm not much of a royality or moxiety guy.

favorite platonic/familial relationships i love platonic/familial dlampr. it's so cute.

a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with freckled patton. i feel like that feeds too much into stereotypes. filipino pat for the win.

the position they sleep in curled up surrounded by plushies.

a crossover au i’d love to see them in the owl house, because i think he would love beast-keeping.

my favorite outfit they’ve ever worn the cat hoodie. need i say more?

[coconut-cluster]

Hi hi im not doing too good rn and i was wondering do you have any happy or fluffy headcanons? I've got no preference rlly just anything that's good and wholesome and stuff. Yeah. Thank u. It's okay if you don't tho, I'll probably chill out in a little while lol

oh of course!!! i hope you’re feelin better soon anon!! 💕💕

even though they could just imagine their own Nintendo Switches, the entire famILY chooses instead to crowd around Roman’s and backseat-play his game, which basically means they all sit on the couch and debate about villagers/terraforming/crafting while Roman plays it out for them

Patton and Remus have had very passionate debates about the merits of frog villagers

they have also spent a full day making a froggy chair, which ended up with them covered in green paint and Logan and Roman actually building the chair 

Roman will sweep anyone and everyone into a dance or very dramatic hug at any time (except Virgil, who doesn’t like sudden embraces, so Roman just kinda holds his hands enthusiastically) 

Janus, Logan, and Patton absolutely dress up as Moriarty, Sherlock, and Watson for Halloween every one year, and the other three get a kick out of it 

They have one night a month - usually near the end of the month - where they each make and present a niche powerpoint (an idea they stole off tiktok)

^^ notable presentations of the past include “We should all learn Irish and here’s why, you uncultured hooligans” (Logan, spoken partially in Irish to prove a point), “Why Timothee Chalamet should illegally change his name to Tumbleweed Champagne” (Janus, very persuasive), and  “Top ten uses of a watermelon, listed in order of least to most likely to get you banned from the state of Illinois” (Remus)

Patton and Logan cook together on the weekends, which is to say Logan follows a recipe and Patton tries to convince him to add random ingredients (and sometimes succeeds) for two hours straight

Roman and Virgil also cook together sometimes, but always late at night when they’re the only ones awake and need a late-night snack, so it ends up as them having chocolate-covered popcorn and coffee and watching Disney movies at two in the morning

Janus is the best cook in the house, though, and makes the whole family breakfast every Sunday morning. It’s always unbelievably extra - we’re talkin pancakes, waffles, parfaits, bacon, eggs, cinnamon rolls, biscuits, sausage, french toast, Roman had to make them a dining room in the Mind Palace to get a big enough table for it all - and they all absolutely love it 

The whole fam has had multiple movie nights that end up with them splitting up and building rival blanket forts (from which they launch pillows as ammunition of course)

(the most impressive blanket fort in the history of such rivalries was built when Logan, Janus, and Roman were on a team together; it had the grandeur of Roman and Janus combined with Logan’s dedication to structural integrity. absolutely unbeatable)

[awkward-pics-of-john]

fluffy amilial dlampr?

!!!!! an ask! and i will die for familial dlampr thank you for having my tastes anon

Rest

Summary - janus-centric, hhhhhhh,,, fluff,, cuddle pile,,, but also Angst! (or: i’m somft for these bois)

Pairings - familial dlampr

Warnings- None

Words - 656

Notes: i wrote this with drying nail polish slkdjf so there may be some typos

When Janus walked into the room he was not expecting to find himself with a lapful of Virgil.

And yet.

Here he was.

When he had first been greeted with the sight of an adorably tired Virgil his first instinct was to smile at him and  walk away. But something inside of him, left over from the time when they weren’t enemies, when they were friends and surrogate parents and loved each other had to go check on him.

So, he might have walked over and swept the bangs out of Virgil’s face and smiled softly at his sleeping face. And then been promptly pulled down.

Virgil nosed his way closer, setting his head in Janus’s lap and letting out a happy sigh. Janus tried as hard as he could not to move. 

Virgil’s eyes opened a crack, a smile pulling up the corners of his lips.

“Hey, Janny.” He said, a yawn making its way out of his mouth as he snuggled closer to Janus’s side.

His breath caught in his throat. Virgil hadn’t called him that in years. He tried not to get too hopeful. Virgil was half-asleep, after all.

His heart plummeted. What if Virgil didn’t want him here at all? Sure, he seemed to want it now but what if he didn’t want it later, when he was in his right mind? What if he was mad at Janus? What if the others were mad at Janus? Whatifwhatifwhatif-

At that moment, Patton walked in. Janus froze. But all he did was smile softly at the two of them, before walking over and plopping himself in what was now a cuddle pile.

“Hey kiddos.“ Patton murmured sleepily, taking off his glasses and resting his head on Janus’s shoulder. Janus stared at him. Patton squinted back.

“I-“ Janus stammered. “What are you doing?“

Patton looked at him like he was stupid. Janus was beginning to think he was. 

“Cuddling with you?“ Patton said incredulously. “Because you’re comfy?“

Janus opened his mouth. Closed it. “Um.” He said eloquently. Patton smiled fondly, shaking his head before closing his eyes and supposedly drifting off to sleep.

Janus wondered if this could get any weirder.

Apparently, it could.

Logan came in with a book, greeting Janus with a small smile before sitting down on the other side of the couch. He maneuvered himself so that his head was in Vigil’s lap, Virgil’s hands instinctively curling in Logan’s hair.

Snakes were cold-blooded creatures, but Janus could’ve sworn his heart melted a little bit.

Enter the twins.

Roman hurled himself into the room, skidding to a halt when he saw the four of them. “Aw,” he took a second to coo, before Remus was on him.

Logan looked up, sighed, and went back to his book.

Remus had his morningstar at Roman’s throat before he noticed the cuddle pile. His face softened from it’s normal wicked grin into something far less sinister. Apparently deciding on something, his eyes flicked to Roman.

“I don’t know what you’re planning, but don’t you dar-“ Roman started.

Roman shrieked as Remus tackle-hugged him. He shoved Remus off him, dusting off his arms. Janus hurriedly shushed him. Romans shot a glare at him, before whispering, quieter, “Get off of me! What even is that on you?”

Remus smirked at him. “You don’t want to know.” Under his breath, Roman muttered “I’m sure I don’t.” Remus grinned, and crowed, “Nope! And you’re my brother, you have to cuddle me.”

Roman said something that sounded suspiciously like “Asshole,” but concurred, flopping next to a sleeping Patton with Remus curling up like a cat next to him.

Janus hid a smile. He hadn’t had moments like these for a while. Moments when... he could pretend they were a family. He shook his head. They’d never be, they had too many differences.

But...

These moments had been happening a lot more often.

With that thought in mind, Janus smiled.

[sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes]

I need more content of Virgil accepting the others and all the sides become this big family and it's adorable.

[transromansanders]

Raking Ruined

Warnings: Remus and Deceit (sympathetic)

Ships: Logicality (romantic), DLAMPR (platonic/familial)

Done with the prompt "Jumping in Leaves" for @sanderssidescelebrations 13 Spooky Month prompts!

----

Logan smiled at his finished work, several piles of leaves around the yard. It was the perfect time to rake, as it had finally stopped raining for the past few days and the leaves were dry. He'd have to be quick, though if he wanted to get the leaves in trash bags before—

"Go, hurry!"

Leaves flew everywhere, and the crisp autumn air was filled with the giggles of two little boys who now had leaves in their hair.

"Roman, Remus," Logan sighed.

Remus laughed, while Roman at least had the decency to look sheepish.

"Remus!" Dee called from the doorway. "You didn't forget to put shoes on!"

"Don't need 'em!" Remus called back.

Sighing again, Logan smiled fondly.

Virgil toddled through the door past Dee, sucking on his pacifier. Having watched the twins jump into the leaves, he hurried to one of the leaf piles and… fell face first into it. Then he pushed himself up, giggling around the pacifier.

Dee rushed over to scoop his youngest brother up. "You're not getting all dirty, V!"

Virgil whined, squirming in Dee's grip.

Logan grabbed the twins, one in each arm.

"Dad!" Roman squealed.

"Put us down!" cried Remus.

"Only if you promise to help me rake the leaves again," Logan quipped.

"Okay!" Roman chirped.

"No!" Remus cried.

Just then, a car pulled up, and Logan gently put the twins down.

"Papa!" The boys all yelled.

Virgil's pacifier dropped to the ground, and Logan sighed yet again, picking it up to wash it. He would wash it after he got a kiss from his husband, though, of course.

The children were swarmed around Patton as he got out of the car laughing.

"My boys!" he said happily, giving each of them a hug and kiss on the forehead, and taking Virgil from Dee. Then he saw Logan, and his grin somehow grew even more. "Hi, Honey."

"Welcome home, Dear," Logan answered, kissing his husband quickly.

"Why do three of the children have leaves in their hair?"

Logan laughed a little, picking Roman up again, which elicited another squeal from him. "Because they're leaf fiends!"

Roman giggled brightly.

"I'll give V a bath before dinner, don't worry," Logan assured Patton. "As for these two," he said, hoisting Roman a little higher and ruffling Remus's hair, "they're going to help me get the leaves out of the yard."

Remus opened his mouth to protest, but he stopped when Patton reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you, boys!" Patton said happily. "But let's have dinner before that, alright?"

And if he was making his dads happy, Remus didn't mind so much. The family moved to head inside.

"Papa Papa!" Virgil babbled happily at Patton. That was one of the few words he could say reliably, along with 'no' and 'Dada'.

They all laughed as Virgil waved his arms.

Dee was glad, glad that Virgil had all that he had before he was old enough to remember not having it, glad that he had everything that he had now, glad that the twins got to run and play all they wanted, glad that Logan and Patton, who had given them everything, seemed so happy.

Yeah, life was good.

----

General Taglist: @februaryfun @msu82 @roman-sing-despacito @veiledabnigate @minamishipsit-secondround @thegaypasta @urielthealienboio @quoth-the-sparrow @woorenergy @sippinyotearsliketea @gamerfreddie @darkle-elkrad @modsnow @iampengwing

[jowritesthingss]

Liar, Liar

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing(s): n/a (familial DLAMPR)

Rating: General Audiences

Content Warning(s): fire (nobody’s hurt tho), strong language...boi (that’s a joke they’re kids there’s not rly strong language beyond anx saying “dang it” too much for pat’s liking)

Length: 2,420 words

Brief Summary: Janus wasn’t always as cool and collected a liar as he is now. Also, the split of Creativity because why not.

TS Masterlist + AO3 Links

*

 “MORALITY!” Creativity shrieks, racing into the living room and colliding at top speed into said side.

With a loud “oomph!”, Morality reaches out to enclose a seven-year-old Creativity in his arms, rocking the other side reassuringly. “Wh-what’s wrong, Creativity?” he struggles to pant through having his breath completely knocked out of him.

“D-Deceit’s being meeean to me again!” Creativity whines into Morality’s shirt.

Morality looks accusingly up at Deceit, who stands faux-innocently in the doorway.

Deceit shrugs. “No I’m not,” he defends himself. “I’m just telling the truth. Creativity is a big, weird, whiny baby. It’s a fact.” He points at Logic smugly. “Ask Logic. He’ll tell you.”

Cuddled up in his corner, Logic looks up from some fourth grade science textbook that he probably already knows cover to cover. “Please do not bring me into this little tiff of yours,” he says imperiously. After a moment, the facade melts, and he brightens. “Didja like that word? ‘Tiff’? It was the word of the day in Language Arts today, not that any of you were paying attention. It means—”

“Oh, shut up, nerd,” Deceit and Creativity chorus and well, at least there’s something they can agree on, Morality supposes.

Disappointed, Logic’s face sinks into a pout. “Fine.” His lip wobbles dangerously. “I can see when I’m not needed.”

And with that, Logic sinks down, presumably off to go bother Anxiety instead.

Morality knows that he should really go after Logic and reassure him that no, he really is needed, and they all really do love him. But with Logic no longer in the living room causing a distraction, Creativity and Deceit start to go off at each other again.

“You’re a booger head,” Deceit hisses, triumphant. “Logan’s the stinky poo-poo side, and you’re the booger side, you...you lame person.”

“No! I’m not a booger!” Creativity protests, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “J-just ’cos I thought it was a kinda dance that one time d-doesn’t make me the—the—”

Morality tries to gather Creativity back up in his arms, but Creativity pulls away from him, stubbornly glaring at Deceit even as tears start to pour down his trembling cheeks.

Deceit laughs, pointing a finger at Creativity. “And now you’re a crybaby! So you’re the crybaby side too?”

“H-hey, Dee, you really need to st—” But Morality’s pathetic attempt at crowd control is drowned out by a rapidly crescendoing siren.

Creativity is now openly wailing, his feet planted and his head tilted to the ceiling and his mouth gaping wide, and oh, dear, that’s never good.

Whenever Creativity starts to cry, it’s a toss-up as to whether he’ll hide in his room for a week or rampage through the entire mindscape destroying things. There’s not really an in-between, and there’s no way to tell which he’ll do each time.

“You’re—you’re a liar! You’re nothing but a liar!” Creativity asserts, his voice panicky and patchy and tremulous. He points a shaking finger at Deceit in return, trying to laugh at him, but the result is rather pitiful. “Liar, liar, pants on fire!”

Then, all at once, Creativity shifts.

The tears dry up abruptly, and a too-wide, disconcerting grin spreads across his face.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Creativity says lowly, smiling way too much for someone who had just been in the darkest pits of despair.

Morality sucks in a breath, holding it, uneasily wondering what Creativity is planning.

Deceit has the decency to look slightly abashed, but he holds his ground nevertheless.

And then his pants burst into flame.

-

Morality is the first to scream, pointing a horrified finger at Deceit’s pants.

Deceit, wanting to know what Morality is screeching about, looks down...and promptly begins some screeching of his own, accompanied by little terrified hops all over the place. He dances around the living room, as if that’ll somehow magically douse the fire, but the extra exposure to oxygen only seems to be doing the opposite.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire. Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Creativity chants delightedly, a manic look on his face.

Logic abruptly rises back up to see what the ruckus is. He takes one look at Deceit running around, body engulfed in flames, and Creativity chanting not unlike a cult member, and Morality screaming...and he sinks back out.

A few moments later, a thoroughly reluctant Logic rises back up, being dragged by a fuming, worried Anxiety.

Anxiety surveys the scene in front of him for one, two, three seconds. Then—

“Deceit! Stop, drop, and roll already, you dummy!” he yells over the din, his voice slightly distorted. “Creativity, you weirdo, stop chanting, dang it!”

“L-language,” Morality mumbles brokenly, eyes wide as he watches the scene in front of him slowly begin to wind down.

Deceit pauses for a moment as Anxiety’s instructions sink in. Then he stops. Drops. Rolls.

Right onto the couch.

Setting the couch on fire.

“NO, dang it!” Anxiety screams, voice fully distorted now, and Morality is much too concerned with the six foot wall of raging flames to call him out on his strong language.

“Morality, a little help here!” Anxiety calls across the room, and the distorted, fully unadulterated panic shocks Morality into action.

It’s time for the Dad Voice. Morality sucks in a big, smoke-filled breath. He chokes. Sucks in another, more careful breath. Tries to make it look vaguely cooler this time.

“STOP!” Morality hollers, his voice magnified, deep, and booming over all the screaming coming from the other sides.

Everyone stops.

Logic stops mid eye-roll. Deceit stops stop-drop-and-roll-ing. Creativity stops chanting. Anxiety freezes in place. Even the fire all over Deceit and the sofa listens to Morality, slowing and shrinking and quickly petering out.

“That is enough,” Morality asserts. Gosh, he hates pulling the Dad Voice card on everyone, especially since they’re all basically the same age, and it always makes him feel so bad. But the cacophony going on in Thomas’ mindscape really was enough. If it got any worse, it would start to affect Thomas in the real world. “Deceit, stop calling people mean names. Creativity, stop setting people on fire.”

The two sides in question reluctantly mutter their assent.

“I’m telling Anxiety on you,” Deceit threatens Creativity under his breath.

“What the—dude!” Anxiety throws his arms up in the air, frustrated. “I’m literally right here,” he snaps, thoroughly Done with everything and everyone. “Who d’you think told you to stop, drop, and roll?” He mutters something illegible to himself before raising his voice again. “God, I wanna say a bad word so much right now but Mo would kill me.”

Deceit looks up and over at Anxiety. He stares quietly for a moment, astonished. Then tears begin to well up in his eyes—real tears, for once, not the crocodile tears he likes to pull on Morality to get what he wants. “I—I—Anx!” he blubbers, racing over to Anxiety and burying himself in the slightly taller side’s arms without prompting. “C-Creativity set me on fire! I was just pretending with him and he set me on fire!”

Chagrined, Anxiety looks at Morality from over Deceit’s head. He rolls his eyes and shrugs, a ‘what can ya do’-type gesture.

Morality returns the gesture before sternly turning to handle Creativity. “It doesn’t matter what Deceit said or did to you,” he says. “We do not set people on fire. You will apologize. Right. Now.”

“B-but!” Creativity protests feebly. “He...he started it though.”

“And I’m ending it. Right here, right now. Now.” Morality places his hands on his hips, staring down at the suddenly-meek side in front of him, quite a far cry from the crazed lunatic that had been present not two seconds ago. “Creativity. I believe you have something to say to Deceit...?”

Creativity nods earnestly, eyes wide and pleading. Then his eyes harden, and he shakes his head. “Yes—no. Yes. Uh.” He buries his face in his hand and peeps out at Morality, as if that can protect him. “M-maybe?”

“Uh-uh. There is no maybe in this, mister. It’s either a yes or a no.” Only a yes, really, but Morality’s gonna let the kid choose his own fate, even if that means he gets himself grounded for a month.

“Y-yes. Nooo.” Creativity clutches at his face, dropping to his knees on the ground. He lets out a pained cry, then, to everyone’s utmost surprise, two strange voices sound in contrast to each other.

“Yes!” one of the voices shrieks, delighted.

“No!” the other strange voice protests in tandem, defiant.

A flash of bright light—brighter than even the flames that had so quickly covered the still-smoking, now-singed sofa. Forced to look away, the sides all cover their eyes, squinting at the incredible brightness.

There is a yell—of pain?—of triumph?—and then, just like that, the light is gone.

-

Logic is the first one to chance opening his eyes, ever the curious soul and wanting to know what just happened. What he sees in the place where Creativity once stood makes him stop and stare, mouth hanging open.

Where Creativity had been standing in the middle of the living room, there are instead two strange new sides—one red, and one green. They both sit, curled up on the floor, disoriented and blinking up at everyone in a sort of tired confusion.

Logic steps forward. “Who...who are you?” he asks, his want to know overruling his wariness. The two of them just look so familiar, but Logic can’t for the life of him figure out why.

The two look up at him in tandem, cocking their heads with alarming similarity. They open their mouths.

“Why, I’m Creativity, of course!” they speak in unison, smooth versus garbled speech.

The two of them freeze, turning to face each other, eyes wild.

The green one’s face stretches into a wide grin. “Yes...it worked.”

The red one begins to shake his head rapidly. “No. Nonono. This isn’t happening. You’re not Creativity. I am.”

“No,” the green one says. “No, we are Creativity, brother.”

“Uh.” Morality clears his throat, guardedly inserting himself into the conversation. He swallows hard when the two supposed Creativities swivel their heads to look at him in unison. “Where’s...are you guys Creativity?”

“That’s what we just said, isn’t it, Mo-mo?” the green Creativity simpers, a sickly sweet smile on his face that he turns on Deceit next, standing up and walking over to him and Anxiety.

Deceit cowers into Anxiety’s side as the Creativity approaches him. He peeks his head out, hastily mumbling out a tiny, “’m sorry about...about calling you names.”

“It’s okay!” the green one says brightly. “I thought they were cool names. I like the idea of being the booger side. It matches my new color scheme!” As if to demonstrate, he picks his nose, wiping it on his new black-and-green outfit. “My brother is just a baby.”

Deceit smiles hesitantly, untangling himself from Anxiety and chancing a few steps in the direction of this new Creativity.

“Ew, gross,” the red one says, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “I don’t like you. You’re a stupid Creativity. I should set you on fire too.”

“Now, uh, Creativity,” Morality steps in again. “We just went over this. Uh. With you when you were...one Creativity?” Patton flounders, unsure of what to refer to either Creativity as. “Don’t make me go through it again now that you’re...uh, two.”

The red one sighs loudly, annoyed. “Fineee!” He pouts before sidling over to Logic. “Nice specs, four-eyes. What are you, a nerd?”

“Yes, and I like it,” Logic shoots back.

The two engage in a heated conversation, but it doesn’t seem quite so heated as the literal fire that had been raging through the mindscape under five minutes ago, so Morality decides to ignore it for the moment. He zeroes in on the green side, who seems slightly more troublesome.

“Y’know, I can teach you how to light fires like that!” the green Creativity is saying to Deceit, who seems much more interested in the idea than is strictly healthy. “That way we can light my brother on fire as revenge! The fire was my idea, of course, he’s not smart enough to come up with it on his own. But he’s the one who actually decided to do it.”

Green Creativity grabs Deceit’s hand with one of his (oh, gosh, that’s the booger hand, ew), and Morality watches as the two race over to the basement door, disappearing behind it.

Morality and Anxiety stare each other down, silently battling to see who is sentenced to the grisly death of going down into the basement after the two clear troublemakers.

Eventually, Anxiety relents. “I’ll go make sure they don’t get themselves killed,” he sighs, absolutely Done with the world yet again (let’s be honest, though, does he really have any other state of being?). “You three just try not to, um, burn down the house again, please?”

“Will do, Anxie!” Morality says nervously, waving a nervous goodbye as the purple side slinks into the basement, snapping the door shut behind him.

“No promises,” Red Creativity and Logic speak up in unison from behind him, then they devolve back into their tits—their—oh, what was that weird new-fangled word Logic had used earlier? gif? tiff?—they just go back to their argument, okay.

Morality turns to face the two of them, trying to feign a smile. After a moment, though, it wriggles off his face, and he sinks his head into his hands, sighing.

Poor Thomas, for having all of these dodos as his sides. Poor Morality, for having to deal with them. He doesn’t get paid enough for this. (He doesn’t get paid at all, who’s he kidding. Is it too late to ask for a different human?)

Turning up the 500-watt smile again, Morality marches over to Logic and this new Creativity. He plants himself between the two of them, internally forcing himself to come to terms with this. This is his new reality now.

“All right, break it up!” Morality instructs. “Mom’s making homemade macaroni tonight and if you make Thomas act out again, we won’t get any!”

Creativity and Logic immediately freeze.

“No!” Red Creativity laments. “Not the macaroni! We mustn’t lose the macaroni!”

“Indeed, that would be...not good,” Logic agrees seriously, nodding his assent.

The final crisis averted, Morality sighs in relief.

And just like that, peace returns to the mindscape of one Thomas Sanders.

Well. Just for the moment, at least.

(Tomorrow, when Green Creativity tries to put slugs in his brother’s pants, all bets are off.)

Fin

*

May I present to you: the real reason behind the Creativity split—a tantrum, pure and simple. And as for why Deceit ran away from and detested the light sides—utter embarrassment.

Want to be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Protection: A Favor

Hi! Hope you are well! I would like to request more of the Aspen witch and Virgil becoming friends in Protector please! Maybe the Aspen Witch or Virgil or the five running into an adventurer that isn't so nice, too? Ooo! Or one or more of the five running into an adventurer who isn't so nice and the rest teaming up with Virgil and the Aspen Witch to save them? I really love the Aspen Witch and just want her and Virgil to be friends ;-; – twoalpacas

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: DLAMPR

Word Count: 5329

The Aspen Witch has a favor to ask.

    "Aspen Witch," Virgil greets as he sits down, "I was not expecting to receive your letter."

The Aspen Witch nods, sitting down opposite him holding a small chalice. "I have prepared for you a drink. It is the same drink I prepared the last time we spoke with an increase to the moonflower nectar."

"I accept your offer of a drink." The Aspen Witch smiles and holds out the chalice for him to take. The drink is sweet, slightly floral, and above all else, warm. "This tastes very good."

"I am glad to hear it." She twists one of the rings back and forth on her finger. "I know that you were not expecting my letter. We have not corresponded in the past, however I felt as though such measures were the best way to contact you."

"I have brought your letter with me," Virgil says as he sets aside the chalice and produces a thin envelope from the folds of his cloak, "so that we may speak about it."

"I am relieved you came so promptly."

"Your letter sounded urgent. I respond to messages of urgency with as much haste as I am able to safely afford." He furrows his brow slightly as the Aspen Witch twists the ring again. "I would like to know if everything is alright. I am…unaccustomed to seeing you…like this."

A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Unbecoming of the version of me you are used to?"

"I would never assume to describe you as unbecoming."

She snorts. "Janus spoke truthfully, then, when he says you are diplomatic to a fault with magic users."

Oh, so you do talk to them, great, do all magic users have some elaborate interconnected network, or do you just gossip about me?

When he remains silent, the smile slides off her face and she sighs, steepling her fingers and leaning on her elbows. "I am aware of your predispositions towards magic users. I do not begrudge you them, nor will I ask you to change them. I…understand that as with all things of great import, ingratiating myself to you will take time and effort on both of our parts."

He frowns a little at that but remains silent.

"However, I find myself in the position of requiring the service of someone with your capabilities," she continues, looking up at him, "and I am open to discussing payment."

An impulse at the base of his spine clenches. "I would like to know what precisely you are referring to when you say you require some of my services."

Magic users don't hire adventurers. Magic users have familiars or apostles or acolytes to perform tasks they deem too menial to carry out themselves. Magic users especially do not hire adventurers without clearly laying out what sort of payment can be expected before the terms of the contract are even discussed.

Which means Virgil's about to step into a whole lot of trouble if he doesn't tread very, very carefully.

"I would presume that you are not overly familiar with the workings of witches and their covens."

"I am not familiar with the workings of witches and their covens."

"To the layperson, a coven is something of a family of witches. A support system of sorts, a network in which they can learn magic safely and from other witches who are practicing a similar sort of magic. In reality, covens are far less akin to families and more like…" She frowns, tapping her fingers together as she searches for the right description. "They are more akin to the armies of a particular lord. There is a Grand High Council, a set of witches in charge of the coven, and each witch that serves within it is expected to bend to the wishes of the coven should they be called upon."

Well. This sounds like something Virgil would be better off not getting near with a twenty-foot pole but he has a feeling that's not what's about to be asked of him.

"Not all witches belong to a coven. If you are willing to distance yourself from witch societies at large, you may leave your coven. It is also possible for particularly gifted or studious witches to train themselves without a coven." The Aspen Witch gestures to herself. "I was not trained by a coven."

Virgil inclines his head slightly as both an acknowledgment of her statement and his own silent what the fuck at the fact that even though he doesn't know a lot about witches and magic users, he knows enough to know that even he might have underestimated just how powerful the Aspen Witch is.

What the fuck is this favor gonna be?

"I do not need to tell you that those with power will do almost anything to hold onto it," she continues and Virgil shakes his head, "then I presume you can guess at how the Grand High Council of a nearby coven reacted when they learned their witches' offers of assistance were being declined in favor of my services."

Ah. Yeah, he can guess that didn't go over very well.

"I will not ask you to intervene in such details on my behalf—" thank fuck— "nor will I ask that you deal with any of the coven directly. You are an accomplished adventurer but I will not ask you to put yourself at such risk."

He inclines his head again, still slightly baffled at her fondness for him but not willing to question it.

"The favor I ask of you is simply this: I have made a contract with a young woman who lives in a village near the coven's sanctuary. In an effort to avoid clashing with them, I would ask that you deliver her package for me." The Aspen Witch produces a small leather pouch from under the table, setting it between them. "Should you require, I will disclose its contents."

Virgil shakes his head. "It's better for all involved if I do not know the contents. That way, my mind cannot be probed for it and I do not risk implicating you or her if the contents should be discovered untowardly."

"Then you will take it?"

"I would like to know where the village is, whom this package belongs to, what I might expect from the coven, and what payment you would offer me."

"The village is a three-day journey from my house. The delivery is for a young woman with red hair who lives in an inn. She wears a sunflower pendant around her neck and asked to be called Bonnie."

"Bonnie."

"Yes, Bonnie. The coven should not detect you. You are simply a traveler delivering a package, they would not concern themselves with you. The ones that would catch you are twins; they are known as Scarlett and Jayhson. They are fond of themselves and of hearing about their own feats. Should you encounter them, act the flatterer and they will not look at you too closely." She reaches behind her and pulls a sealed jar full of twinkling petals from a crate. "I would offer this as initial pavement."

"I would like to know what is in the jar," he says, eyeing the petals with no small amount of wariness.

"Ilusoi petals. A powerful healing ingredient. A paste made of them and fresh mint oils will cure almost any ailment."

He can't stop his eyes from widening. How important is this package, and how powerful is this coven if this is the payment you would offer me?

"Do we have a deal?"

He takes a deep breath. "I will not be able to take the package at this moment. I would need to return and gather the proper supplies before setting out on such a journey."

"Would you return in a week's time?"

"That would be the required time." He hesitates for another moment before bowing his head. "I will take your package to Bonnie's village in exchange for the jar of ilusoi petals."

The Aspen Witch's shoulders slump and she smiles, setting the jar back in its crate and reaching out to take his hands. He lets her take one, squeezing as she squeezes back. "I will see you in a week."

"I will see you in a week."

***

    A light fog moves over the village as Virgil trudges down the hill, the package from the Aspen Witch tucked safely into his cloak. The path winds through a set of small houses and stables until it ends near a larger structure—a tavern or town hall of some kind. Across the way, down the path by the river, he can see the swinging sign of an inn. He pulls his cloak tighter around his shoulders and ducks his head slightly to vanish into the crowd. Someone calls out for their child. A horse snorts.

He pushes open the door to the inn, glancing around. Three people sit at a table, two more by the fireplace. An older woman stands behind the counter, kneading a loaf of bread. After a few moments, he walks up to her and reaches for his coin pouch.

"I have a package for a woman with red hair," he says lowly, "she goes by Bonnie."

"Who's asking?" He places three coins on the wood. "She's out back."

He adds two more to the pile and moves through a side door, glancing once behind him to check that no one's gotten suspicious. The back of the inn is a small stable, complete with a water trough and outdoor area. An offshoot of a larger stable, most likely, one that had been adapted to suit the needs of the inn. At the far corner is a woman with red hair brushing down a horse.

"Bonnie?"

"Yes?"

Virgil steps closer, but not close enough to be a threat, taking the package from inside his cloak. "I've been sent with a delivery for you."

"Ooh, how mysterious." Bonnie winks at him. "Do I get to know what it is?"

He doesn't answer, just holds it out. She takes it, peeking inside, and her demeanor shifts in an instant. She stuffs the pouch into her apron and nods sharply.

"Thank you." He nods. "Do—what do I pay you?"

"My contract was with the person who requested the delivery, not with you. You don't owe me payment."

"A meal, then," she says, gesturing toward the inn, "on the house, please, for what you've done."

He shakes his head. "No, Bonnie, I don't need it. I appreciate the offer."

Bonnie still looks reluctant, mouth opening to say something else, before she straightens abruptly, staring at something over his shoulder. He moves his head to rest near the dagger at his hip and turns as casually as possible.

"Virgil?"

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Patton smiles. "That is you! I almost didn't recognize you, you look so different!"

Yeah, that would be the point. He inclines his head just slightly, hoping Patton might get the hint that now's not a good time, but then Patton's smiling and walking closer and he hears Logan's voice asking where he's going and—

And now all five of them are coming around the corner. Great. Excellent. Fantastic.

Bonnie makes a noise of surprise and Virgil turns back, quickly stepping closer and bending to mutter in her ear.

"If anyone asks you about that," he whispers, "tell them: 'My contract was not with you and its terms have been fulfilled.' Don't say anything more than that."

Something in his voice must tell her how serious this is because she just nods, taking her hands out of her apron and edging toward the door of the inn. He straightens and turns back just as Patton reaches out to pat his arm.

"What are you doing so far from home?"

Virgil doesn't say anything, instead eyeing the disgruntled look on Roman's face and in Remus's scuffling of his feet. Patton glances over his shoulder and rolls his eyes.

"Oh, don't mind them. They're just grumpy."

"As always, Patton you have a genius for understatement." Janus pats the nose of a curious horse. "But yes, don't let their dour moods ruin your day."

Virgil nods, but starts walking slowly toward the other end of the path, looking to get away from here, thank you, before any of the coven shows up. Which was an excellent plan, really, as Bonnie almost makes it to the door, but then Logan asks him where he's going and he's not quick enough to respond before—

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

"A couple of scroungers, it looks like."

For once in my fucking life, I want the person who appears behind me to not be the one person I'm trying to avoid.

But, once again, this isn't his lucky day, because he turns around and sees the two people who could only be Scarlett and Jayhson, each draped in robes of sickeningly saturated red and black, complete with glittering jewels around their throats. It puts even Janus's normal levels of ornamentation to shame. They seem to be looking more at the others than him and Bonnie, which is fortunate, but they are still standing between him and any reasonable route of escape.

Fuck.

"Jayhson, Scarlett," Janus greets in a pleasant tone, "I thought I smelled something."

Shut the fuck up, he thinks desperately as Remus cackles. Scarlett tosses her hair over her shoulder and steps forward, nose in the air. "And I see you're still preying on desperate hopefuls to peddle your hedgewitch craft to."

"Who the fuck are you calling a hedgewitch?"

"Now, now," Jayhson lilts, as Remus snarls at them, interlacing his fingers, "there's no need to be so uncivilized. After all, hedgewitches still have their uses. Cleaning houses, repairing roof tiles, even brewing tea."

"Good to see you've gotten your main talents down to such a concise list, then," Roman says and part of Virgil wants to slam his face into the barn post to get him to shut up.

(The rest of him thinks that was fucking hilarious, but he's trying to ignore that part right now.)

Scarlett's face twists and she opens her mouth to deliver what Virgil's sure would be a scathing remark but Jayhson catches her arm. "Now, dear, don't worry about the vermin. We can't expect them to have good manners, after all."

"You wouldn't know vermin if it bit your nose off," Patton informs them cheerily, even as Jayhson sneers.

"No, you're right, of course," Scarlett says, collecting herself, "after all, only those with truly bad manners would dare make deals inside a coven's territory."

Bonnie yelps as something falls from her apron, a small piece of metal glowing for a moment on the ground—Scarlett must have heated it as Bonnie held it, forcing her to drop it. She picks it up, going to tuck it away again, when Jayhson catches hold of her wrist in a cruel grip. Virgil steps forward, hand on his dagger, as Jayhson tuts.

"A wulring locket," he snorts, almost throwing Bonnie's wrist away, "how trite."

Oh, you poor thing…

Virgil makes a moment of sympathetic eye contact with Bonnie, who nods. He holds his free hand over his chest and bows slightly, which is thankfully ignored by all the magic users still in this fucking path.

"I suppose I should have guessed," Scarlett sighs, "that you would resort to such desperate people."

Virgil catches Logan's mouth opening and tries to subtly shake his head— "That's not one of ours."

Jayhson's brow twitches and he turns to Bonnie, quickly adapting a much more threatening posture. "Who made the wulring locket for you, wench?"

"Don't fucking talk to her like that, you prick," Remus says lowly but neither twin pays him any mind.

Bonnie raises her chin and looks the smarmy asshole dead in his eyes. "My contract was not with you and its terms have been filled," she declares and turns on her heel, walking back inside and shutting the door with a resolute thud.

She's Virgil's hero right now.

Still, the high doesn't last long as he catches a glimpse of Jayhson's hand tightening into a fist as he turns back to face them. The others, of course, don't bother to hide their amusement and are openly snickering. Speaking of openings, Jayhson's move to approach the door has left one in the other side of the path, which means if he just steps this way a little bit, he can almost make it to—

"You. Boy. Not so fast."

He slows but does not freeze, turning slowly as Scarlett approaches him. She looks him up and down and he feels the familiar prickle of a spell against his skin. He doesn't move.

"State your business."

"I have no business with you nor with your coven," he says lowly, bowing his head in a show of submission, "I am just passing through."

"You were speaking with the wench." Virgil doesn't respond. "Were you the one that delivered the ring?"

"Give it a rest," Roman sighs, and Scarlett turns and he's gone, walking swiftly down the path and out of the village. He registers another tingle hitting his cloak and bites back a curse—tracking spell, most likely, and he liked this cloak. As he ducks through a crowded market, he lets a jostling merchant slide it from his shoulder, deftly unhooking it from his pauldron and letting it be trodden underfoot as he moves through the stalls.

As he goes to lose himself once more in the woods, pulling his backup cloak from his satchel, his mind keeps wandering back to Bonnie. About how she sought out a witch to craft a wulring locket, a magical token that would ensure that she was never to be forgotten by the person whose likeness was worn inside. About how she sought the Aspen Witch, a witch without a coven, to craft it for her. About how the Aspen Witch had offered something near priceless to Virgil in exchange for its safe delivery.

Desperate, indeed.

"There you are," he hears from an upcoming clearing, "you ran off so quickly, you didn't even say goodbye?"

Irritation resumes as he walks out of the trees to see the five of them standing there, each with varying degrees of pouting—from Logan to Patton, of course, with the sincerity of Janus's varying by the second the longer he looks. He looks at them for a moment before crossing his arms.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"We were thinking," Remus says like he's talking to a child, "that we haven't seen you in a while and it would be nice to say hi."

"You put her in between you and the members of that coven. She could have been hurt."

"We wouldn't have let that happen," Logan tries to placate, "and besides, you were there too."

"Which brings me to my next point: I was in the middle of a contract. A contract you didn't know about and could have been dangerous." He sees Janus and Remus try and hide their scoffs and sets his jaw. "And despite what you think, not everything can be solved by you showing up."

"You'd be surprised," Roman says with too much of a flirtatious edge for this situation.

"We're sorry," Logan says, once again proving that he's the only reasonable one, "we should have realized that wasn't the time. Or place. Though…I do believe you're overreacting."

If anything, Virgil is underreacting right now, but he's not about to say that while he's still so close to the village. He opens his mouth to say as much when he notices a glimmer along the edges of Logan's shoulder.

He looks at the others. The same glimmer is there.

He's done this for long enough to know what a basic scrying spell looks like.

Shit.

If they've tracked them all this far, they know roughly what direction he's going in. If they know that, they probably know whereabouts he's come from too.

Which means that in all likelihood, they've guessed that it was the Aspen Witch.

Fuck.

He's less equipped than he would like to be, but he wasn't about to agree to this contract without his usual magic-user measures. Still, he can't exactly tell them what's going on for fear of Scarlett and Jayhson realizing he's wise to their plot.

Which means he's going to have to do something he really doesn't want to.

"Well," he says, arms still folded, "then you can leave me to the rest of my journey in peace."

He wants to take it back the second he sees their faces fall but he holds firm. Patton steps forward. "Virgil, I'm sorry, I really didn't know that you were in the middle of something, I just wanted to say hi—"

"You put an innocent life in danger."

"He didn't mean it," Logan tries next, "Virgil, please—"

"Let us help you," Remus asks, stepping forward too, "we can help—we can take you there right now, no problem—"

"Virgil—"

All of them stepping forward is enough to make Virgil's hand near his sword.

They freeze.

He takes a deep breath and forces his hand away but doesn't say anything.

In the end it's Roman who nods first, bowing his head and taking a step back. He reaches out and places his hands on Remus and Janus's shoulders. "We won't bother you on your journey home."

Virgil nods sharply. Roman's expression crumples, as if he'd been hoping Virgil would take it back, but then he raises his chin and nods back. "Come on."

The rest of them slowly step into line, each looking at Virgil apologetically, before there's a shimmer of light and they disappear. He lets out a slow breath, trying to ignore the pain in his chest as he double-checks that he's not carrying a tracking spell either. As he sets off toward the Aspen Witch's cottage, he spares one last thought for them.

I hope you'll understand.

Then he squares his shoulders. Time to go to work.

***

    He hears them before he sees them, falling into a defensive stance and slowly creeping closer. Through the trees, he spots the familiar black cloaks around a figure on the ground. Scarlett must alter some sort of spell because the figure jerks, back bowing in an awful strain as Jayhson mockingly cups their chin.

"You thought just because you could cobble together a half-decent protection spell that you were safe?"

The Aspen Witch, Virgil realizes with no small amount of rage, they've got the Aspen Witch.

The Aspen Witch spits in Jayhson's face and he cries out in disgust. He catches a glimpse of her vicious grin before Scarlett's fingers twitch again and she hisses through her teeth.

"How vile," she remarks casually, as though picking dirt from under her nails. "And how pedestrian."

As quickly and quietly as he can, Virgil starts to make a circle around their clearing. Every ten paces, he takes one of the little bags from his belt and buries it in the soft earth. Luckily, the two of them seem to be enjoying their gloating more than they care to be listening to their surroundings, either presuming that there isn't anyone coming for the Aspen Witch or that they wouldn't be snuck up on.

Well, he's not about to correct them just yet.

He makes it all the way around them, burying fifteen of the little bags, before he tucks his satchel and cloak under a nearby bit of brush and examines the binding spell more closely. Seems tied to the ropes themselves, a material component. Somatic too, by the way Scarlett keeps her hand in the same position. Verbal…hard to tell, maybe to cast, not to manipulate. He checks a few more things on himself before he starts his countdown.

"You need to be taught a lesson," Jayhson says, a hand raising, "about respect, about power, and about your place as a witch."

The Aspen Witch grits her jaw but she tries to lean away as the eerie glow of magic lights up the trees.

Just as Jayhson goes to bring his hand down, Virgil steps out from behind the trees.

"What an unpleasant surprise," Scarlett says, her fingers twitching as the Aspen Witch's eyes widen, "I should have guessed that such a loyal mutt would come running to its master's defense."

"No—"

"Silence," Jayhson says almost lazily, slapping the Aspen Witch across the face—oh, he's gonna pay for that— "you. Boy. Go and run back to your kennel now."

Virgil does no such fucking thing.

"You will release her," he says evenly, "you will return to your coven and inform them that you will no longer pursue her."

Scarlett laughs, high and wild. Jayhson looks vaguely amused and waves his hand. "Perhaps you misunderstand, mutt. This is not a negotiation."

"I agree. It isn't." He shifts his stance, hand on the pommel of his sword. "You will release her. You will return to your coven. You will no longer pursue her."

"Kill him," Scarlett sighs, turning back to the Aspen Witch, "perhaps making her watch will be fun too."

Jayhson raises his hand, the magic beginning to glow from it again—

And it ricochets off into the trees, where it hits an invisible barrier and dissipates harmlessly.

The caster frowns, trying again, but the same thing happens. Scarlett turns, one hand still maintaining the binding spell, only to see yet another attempt splutter and fail miserably. "What is this?"

"A runic circle," Jayhson snarls, "you've placed us in a damn runic circle."

Virgil lets the very corner of his mouth tug up into a smirk.

Jayhson snarls and casts another spell, a fiery projectile heading for him. He steps to the side, slicing it in half with his sword. He dodges the next spell, keeping himself low to the ground as Jayson casts and casts, slowly making his way across the circle. He catches a glimpse of a rupturing spell and throws up a stone, intercepting it and sending pebbles all across the clearing as Jayhson yells.

"Kill him!" he hears Scarlett shriek. "Just kill him!"

Despite the spells, he's slowly forcing Jayhson backwards, just from the threat of actually getting closer. He sees Jayhson's eyes go wide and his hand reach for something in his robes and he grabs another rock, throwing it at his shoulder and knocking him off-balance. Jayhson stumbles backwards with a cry and the thing he'd been reaching for sets off in his hand, blasting him halfway across the clearing.

"Filthy mutt," he hears Scarlett curse as her hand twists, jerking the Aspen Witch off the ground.

He takes a dagger from his belt and throws it at her hand as she starts to mutter a spell, rushing up and shoving her backwards as she shrieks. He drops to one knee and cuts the ropes around the Aspen Witch's throat before standing over her protectively. The twins scramble to their feet as the Aspen Witch splutters and gasps, hunching over on the ground. Virgil adjusts his grip on his sword. One of Scarlett's hands is bleeding profusely. Jayhson's entire chest is charred and smoking, his robes burned away from his neck to his navel.

"You will return to your coven," Virgil says lowly, "and you will no longer pursue her."

The two of them exchange a look. Then they scramble off into the forest, vanishing with a sharp crack as soon as they make it beyond the line of the runic circle.

As soon as they vanish, Virgil drops to one knee and sets about freeing the Aspen Witch, checking for any severe injuries. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine," she says, still catching her breath, "they just bound me. I'm fine."

"It's my fault, I should have—"

"You saved my life," the Aspen Witch interrupts, "again. You fought off two of the coven's most feared witches. You have done more than enough to forgive any fault that you might have committed, and you committed none."

Still, Virgil can't help but run his hands over her wrists, her arms, just to make sure. She bats him away after another moment, slowly getting to her feet. She looks up at him and touches his cheek.

"You saved me," she repeats, that hesitation from when he'd taken the spell for her returning, "I…am grateful."

"You are my friend," he says quietly, "it was a life worth saving."

Just as she opens her mouth, he hears a twig snap. In an instant, he swivels, sword at the ready, one arm out to shield the Aspen Witch on instinct. He scans the forest, eyes alert for movement, before he picks up a rock and throws it.

"Ow!"

"Remus?"

"Yeah, it's me," Remus calls as Virgil relaxes, "can we come out or are you gonna throw more rocks at us?"

"I won't throw rocks at you."

The five of them slowly emerge from the tree line, each shuffling a little and trying to avoid his gaze. He frowns, going to speak when Remus stumbles over his words first.

"We know you said not to follow you but we realized the tracking spell and wanted to warn you."

"But then we realized that you'd realized it first," Patton mumbles next, "and that's why you sent us away."

"We're sorry," Janus says next, looking far too sheepish and unsure, "we'll behave next time."

"We'll keep an eye on Bonnie too," Logan adds, "from a distance, of course."

Roman doesn't say anything, just looking at the ground and sneaking occasional glances at Virgil. His chest twists. Was he really so sharp with them that they're this nervous around him now? He slides his sword back into its scabbard with a shing and watches all of their eyes dart to him. He raises an eyebrow and they all look away again.

"Calm yourself," the Aspen Witch murmurs as he goes to apologize, "they're not upset with you."

"How can you be so sure?"

She laughs under her breath. "I've certainly never seen them blush this hard before."

Indeed, as he looks again, he can see decidedly red and pink flushes to their cheeks and the tips of their ears. Roman in particular is determined not to look at him and something akin to mischief flickers through Virgil's head.

"Roman," he says, not fighting the way his voice naturally deepens after a fight and Roman actually fucking whimpers. "Roman, tell me what's going on."

"Nothing," Roman squeaks far too quickly, before clearing his throat and trying for casual—and missing by a landslide— "just—glad you're okay."

"I see."

"We've, uh," he continues when the silence stretches, "never seen you…do that before."

"You are aware that this is my job, right?"

"Not like that," he hears Remus whine under his breath and he chuckles.

"It's just that with all your distrust of magic users," Logan tries, valiantly fighting the heat rushing to his face, "we presumed that you…would've taken a different course of action."

"I don't like or trust magic users," Virgil allows, "but that doesn't mean I don't know how to handle them."

"You're being mean," the Aspen Witch says lightly as all of them blush harder, though she doesn't sound too upset by it.

"Well, you know what they say," Virgil grins, "fair's fair."

This journey home is going to be fun.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

||-Ribbons and Rainstorms-||

Hello everyone! This is my masterpost for Ribbons and Rainstorms, my fic for the @tss-storytime big bang!!

Big thank yous to @anxious-mess19 for creating such wonderful !!ART!! for this fic! Go check it out!!!

And to @edupunkn00b for being such a wonderful beta reader!! Love you guys !!!

----

Roman Edevane has been terrified of storms since his twin brother's death when they were small children. He sits and he watches the dark clouds roll from his window, too afraid to sleep but unable to tear his eyes away. Then, one night, lightning strikes the temple on the hill and he forgets all about the storm in his rush to protect it. When he finds not a burning temple, but the God of Storms himself.

After that he kept coming back—Why? He wasn’t sure, and though meeting the god responsible for the storms doesn't abate his fear completely at first, Vi was… nothing like Roman could have ever expected. The God of storms was kind, he was sweet, a little shy and not to mention a whole other level of handsome. Somehow Roman can’t help but fall for them.

But he can’t be in love with a God… can he? Even if he was, could a God ever love him back?

-----

----

Warnings: Past character death, touch starvation, panic attacks + flashbacks, non-graphic injuries.

Pairings: Prinxiety, platonic DLAMPR, background Remile

Word count: 42,585

----

+ Chapter 1 - That Fateful Day +

+ Chapter 2 - Blanket Nest for Two +

+ Chapter 3 - Ribbons Between Friends +

+ Chapter 4 - Temple of Chores +

+ Chapter 5 - Blankets are a Remedy +

+ Chapter 6 - Picnics in Springtime +

+ Chapter 7 - Stars, Libraries and Knowledge +

+ Chapter 8 - Dancing Beneath Clouds +

+ Chapter 9 - Smite Thee, Karen +

+ Chapter 10 - Once Reunited +

+ Chapter 11 - Sacks of Flour +

+ Chapter 12 - Apple and Mango Juice +

+ Chapter 13 - Stargazer Lilies +

+ Chapter 14 - One Communal Banquet +

+ Chapter 15 - To be a Protector +

+ Chapter 16 - Dinner With Family +

+ Chapter 17 - Eye of the Storm +

+ Chapter 18 - To be a God +

+ Epilogue - 2000 Years Later... +

----

Taglist: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @reptilianrapscallion420 @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti

[wispandwhispers]

Why don’t I see more aus of all the sides bonding over Friday night dinner that normally leads to domestic food fights across the table? 

Why don’t I see more aus of all the sides watching a shitty movie together just to make fun of it and fall asleep in a pile, in the middle of the living room in their onesies?

Why don’t I see more aus where the sides are really good friends off camera and all live together semi-peacefully in the mindscape?

 Look, I just want to see Virgil tired in the morning, with his hair still in a night bun or in a robe, telling that Logan and Remus should really clean up after their late night experiments. 

I just want Roman and Patton to attempt to cook and accidently setting water on fire somehow and Janus has to come and intervene so the gang still has a kitchen to use. 

I want those dumb arguments at 9 o’clock at night with the cusses and curses and death threats that still lead to everyone saying goodnight to each other before they decide to head in.

I want those days when Roman or Remus came up with a new idea and the rest just listen in awe because they are so talented and they care about them so much.

I want those moments where Virgil, Patton, Janus, practically anyone to be truly honest, mentions that they’re touch starved or just feeling down in general and everyone clears their schedules to take care of them and cheer them up.

I want Remus and Patton team up to prank the rest of the sides on April fools and being so happy when they finally get whoever evaded the traps for longer

I want...I need them to hug after intense lines in videos because they don’t like being mean or rude to each other.

Basically fuck the canon. They’re FamILY.

[5am-the-foxing-hour]

Gentle Sleeps

The living room in the mind palace was silent, expect for the hum of the refrigerator and the soft snores that left the side on the couch.

Deceit was lying sprawled on the couch on his stomach, limps haphazardly around him, making it clear he hadn’t cared much when he had let himself face-plant onto the couch cushions.

Logan walked downstairs and after preparing a cup of tea he moved over to the couch and put the cup on the coffee table, before he gently removed Deceit’s hat and placed it on the table next to the cup before he lifted Deceit’s head so he could sit down and placed the other sides’s head on his thigh and summoned a book.

Deceit mumbled something and moved a bit before he stilled, Logan moved his free hand to start to card through the other’s fluffy curls. smiling when he noticed how Deceit leaned into the touch.

When Virgil came downstairs, Deceit had moved so he was lying with his face towards Logan’s torso and curled up more, Logan had during sometime snapped him into his sleepwear instead of the caplet and shirt. the Shoes were gone as well, revealing a pair of yellow fluffy socks instead, it was not unknown that Deceit’s feet grew cold. Virgil raised one eyebrow at them before he went into the kitchen. Returning later with a muffin in his hand and a glass of milk. he climbed onto the couch and sat down at the space between Deceit and the couch. putting the glass on the table before he bit into the muffin and summoned a blanket and placed it over Deceit and himself. Before he brought up his phone and headphones, saying a quiet hello to Logan before he started the music.

It didn’t take long before Virgil fell asleep as well, satisfied with the milk and muffin, and the warmth making him drowsy. Logan gently tilted Virgil’s head a bit to make sure he didn’t wake up with a pain in the neck.

He continued to read, now with two pairs of soft snores, that slowly started to breathe in tandem.

Logan glanced up when he heard a soft gasp to see how Roman and Patton had come downstairs, Patton looked like he was about to squeal, but he tried to muffle himself with the sleeves on his cat hoodie. Roman on the other hand was smiling. He moved over and ruffled Logan’s hair making Logan grunt unhappily.

  “Either join the pile of leave.” Logan said with a huff before he continued to read, only to splutter when Roman kissed him on the forehead and then snapped his fingers, making the couch grow in size, but it didn’t disturb the already sleeping sides. Roman quickly snapped himself into his pyjamas and joined the pile, opening his arms to Patton who beamed and with his own snap of his fingers changed into his looser and more comfortable sleep clothes. Before he snuggled up in Roman’s chest, the two grinned at each other, before Roman started the Tv on silent to start the cartoon he and Patton watched together, at the same time Patton summoned a tupperware that held cookies.

They got through three episodes before the gentle atmosphere and the warmth made them fall asleep as well. Logan quickly snapped his fingers to save the tupperware, making it end up on the table instead of the floor when Patton’s grip loosened in sleep.

Logan watched them all with a smile before he chuckled and shook his head.

He was halfway through the book when thundering steps came down the stairs, he snapped his eyes up and shushed Remus quite quickly, making the chaotic side halt and blink, tilting his head like a confused puppy before understanding washed over his face.

  “Oh, sleepy time.” He said before he moved over to Logan. “What are you re~ading?” he asked peeking over Logan’s shoulder.

  “It’s a book about stars.”

Remus hummed leaning forward more only to grunt when Logan pushed him back with his hand.

  “Did you just lick me?”

  “You’re hand was in my face! It’s kinda a defence mechanism at this point.” Remus huffed crossing his arms and pouting.

  “Fascinating. If you want, I could read it for you.” Logan had to hold back a smile when he saw how Remus lit up. Logan also knew Remus’s favourite stop, for being read to, so he opened his arms and Remus happily climbed onto his lap, careful to not disturb Deceit who was still sleeping. “You don’t want to get more comfortable?” Logan asked, making Remus hum, before he clicked his tongue and changed into his pyjamas as well. grinning as he made himself comfortable, Head resting against Logan’s shoulder.

Logan started to read. about nebula's, and stars and planets far away. Remus soaked it all in. Now and again piping up. Logan answered the questions and spekulations to the best of his ability, while also making sure Remus didn’t spiral on into a tangent and get loud.

Logan couldn’t help the smile on his lips when he felt Remus grow heavier and he glanced down to find how the Duke had fallen asleep. Logan hummed and continued to read aloud a while longer before he continued in silence.

Logan gave away a pleased huff when he finished the book and made it vanish back to the library. He looked at the others who were all sleeping, having now cuddled up more against each other. Logan smiled as he with a snap of his fingers put his own and Patton’s glasses on the table before he snapped his fingers again to change into less serious clothes as he summoned a blanket and pulled around Remus and himself. Returning his hand to Deceit’s hair who mumbled something again and bleped, only making Logan give away a silent laugh.

The living room in the mind palace was silent, expect for the hum of the refrigerator and the soft snores that left the sides on the couch. 

- - -

General Fanfic Tag list: @ebony-wolf, @nashiraneko, @i-sold-my-soul-to-thefandom, @rabbitsartcorner, @punsterterry,  @sleepyssnail,  @nightmaresides, @virgilswritings, @ninja-girl2846, @ninjago2020, @starryfirefliesbloggo, @garecc,  @sympatheticdeceit, @cookiethedevil, @askthesnake,  @all-bridges-will-burn, @tacohippy56900, @little-euro-girl

[coconut-cluster]

okay but a family baseball league sounds adorable oh my stars

I think so too lol!! (Also my freshman English teacher said ‘oh my stars’ all the time and now I’m 🥺 I loved that woman)

BUT BASEBALL

Roman, Patton, and Remus are over the moon about the idea (admittedly Remus is more excited about hitting things with a baseball bat than he is about family bonding), but Janus and Virgil absolutely want no part in it at first

(Roman and Patton convince Virgil. Remus does not give Janus a choice.)

Logan mostly only agrees because it would finally give them all a chance to be active and healthier (because for the LIFE of them they all need to get out and exercise more)

But eventually they all agree, so Roman makes a baseball diamond in the Imagination!!

He even makes them all uniforms with their colors! (which confuses Patton because he wants them to be on the same team)

((Virgil, Janus, and Logan refuse to wear the uniforms at first, but Roman tells them they can personalize them how they want if it makes them more appealing))

(((He tries not to sound hurt that they don’t like them. It doesn’t work and Janus ends up wearing his as is because he admittedly feels bad. Virgil wears his hoodie overtop, and Logan wears his cogitating cap, so they’re all happy in the end)))

Virgil insists on pitching (“you want to hurtle a baseball at me at top speed and you expect to stand still? like it CAN’T break my face? no thanks”)

Remus insists on catching the ball without a glove. He does not elaborate why but Roman begs him multiple times to stay faithful to the game, which he duly ignores

Patton is content to be the catcher, mostly because he almost smacks himself in the face with the bat when he tries to bat (and also accidentally does smack Logan in the face with the bat when Logan is the catcher)

Roman sings “I Dont Dance” under his breath throughout the entire game

(Virgil is halfway between plugging his ears or singing along)

Logan. Smokes. Everyone. He hits home runs every time he’s up to bat and doesn’t even blink?? And no one can hit his pitches??

Roman is absolutely affronted.

(“He’s a nerd! He’s said it himself! Where in the name of Emily Brontë did the athleticism come from?!”)

Janus puts in as little effort as possible. Holding the bat out with one hand. Letting the ball just dink off of it. Ambling between bases. Halfway through the game he relocates to lounging in the dugout and throwing caramel corn at Remus when he passes by.

Family bonding :)

[djpurple3]

Fading Away - A Sander Sides Fanfic

Word count: 4104 words Characters: Deceit (centric), Logan, Patton, Roman, Remus, Virgil, Thomas, Unnamed side (mentioned) Trigger warnings: passing mentions of self-harm and suicide, plus mention of knives about halfway through, metaphorical kind of death (ie fading from consciousness), touch starvation (Deceit), mentions of literal starvation, isolation. Please let me know if I need to tag anything else. Style: Angst with a soft/fluff ending - Hurt/Comfort Ships: none. Platonic famILY. platonic Moceit focus at the end (If you want to be tagged in future writing please message me/pop into my ask box)

Deceit finds it absolutely fascinating, how much the others tell Thomas. What they tell him, what they don’t. The cues and empty questions that whether they liked it or not were for Deceit. Information he dealt at will like a dealer at a blackjack table. Despite how unwilling the others were to trust him, to use him, Deceit always had a place in Thomas’ little world.

Then Anxiety left. Anxiety left, and Deceit became a little weaker.

Anxiety went and made nice with Thomas and the others - he was so young compared to say Morality and Logic and himself, but Anxiety needed out of this dark, dirty, violent hellhole and Deceit couldn’t blame him. Maybe that’s why he never made Virgil come back. Maybe he was jealous. Maybe he understood. Maybe some part of him wanted the best for him. Maybe. But that, he thinks as he looks down at his hands, was the beginning of the end.

He wonders why they don’t tell Thomas how the sides properly work. Every little facet and gritty detail, what he deserves to know and to understand. He wonders if they’ll ever tell him about what happens to the unaddressed parts of him. About… ... He can’t even remember his name.

Remus was an interesting case for Deceit. Until recently, he had been keeping him down here, with him, trying to ease Thomas into it when the time was right, but he had made a mistake. If he dares to be honest, Virgil had made him hopeful. That people like him, people like them could grow to be important and valued. Maybe even loved, if he dares to dream. Virgil had made him let his guard down. He had felt so close to making his point. So close.

He remembers coming home after the trial, undoing his cufflinks and loosening his tie when he looked up to see Remus’ door hanging open. He remembers his stomach dropping. He remembers rushing to search the entire subconscious, panic clawing at his throat. Remus disappeared on him. Flat out disappeared on him. He only found out what Remus had gotten up to when Roman had stormed downstairs in a fit of anger and shouted at him for half an hour.

Remus still hasn’t returned. He supposes that’s good for Remus. That means the Duke’s not under threat of fading anymore. Deceit looks down, his gloves set aside, and notices how he doesn’t have fingertips anymore. He lifts his hands up to the light and tries to laugh at how he’s going transparent.

The less a side is used, the less a corporeal form is needed, until it faded away back into the mind. The abstract stays, for how could Thomas function without it? But an unneeded side fades from consciousness, because why waste mental power on a manifestation of an unused concept, after all. They fade until they’re just a memory. And memories get forgotten. Deceit puts his gloves on and tries to ignore how his fingertips don’t fill out the gloves.

The next time he’s needed, Deceit feels a lot lighter. Then again, lighter is not quite the word he’s looking for. He feels a lot less. The gloves don’t hide his hands anymore, because even his clothing is fading with him. His hands are basically gone. His legs too, up to about the mid-shin. He floats along, hauntingly ephemeral as he gets lonelier and lonelier, and the lower floor gets emptier and emptier. He gets dragged up by his translucent hair next to Logan, hissing through thin lips as apologies tumble his way. He feels stronger for them, though, because Logan doesn’t feel bad for hurting him, and those little lies can ground him in a way nothing else has for weeks. Thomas, bless him, has been trying to change his ways. He has been trying to be a better person by been painfully and methodically honest. Thomas has said a lot of things he regrets. Thomas has lost a few friends, a few vital opportunities. Thomas has learnt new things about himself he just wasn’t ready to handle. Deceit can feel the emotional and moral weight of Thomas’ attempts sitting on his shoulders, because in trying to be better, Thomas just keeps hurting himself. Honestly? That stings. That was what Deceit had been trying to tell them. Spent months trying to tell them.

Most of all, though, it hurts on a literal level - Deceit is being starved. Nothing is powering him, feeding him anymore. Patton encouraged Thomas to put him out of sight, out of mind, because ‘lying only hurts people.’ Patton’s wrong, Deceit notes quietly. Technically, the lies aren’t the bits that hurt. It’s not how fast you drive, it’s the collision at the end that kills.

He doesn’t try to hold back a sneer at the others’ shocked faces as he tries to steady himself. In truth, he is glad he is dragged up next to Logan, because he knows that if he was beside Patton, the side would try and apologise or some other appalling lie. Or even touch him. He can’t really feel anything anymore. So when everyone stares at him in horror, and he notes even Remus is there, next to Roman, and Remus and Virgil look even more horrified because maybe they also remember that unnameable side from so long ago; but Deceit knows that every side here knows exactly what is happening to him. And he can’t help but laugh. “What?” he goads. “Something off, gentlemen?”

“Deceit, what-” Virgil starts, and they lock eyes for the first time in months and Deceit can see fear in Virgil’s eyes as he stammers. But for once, it doesn’t seem to be fear of him. Virgil is scared for him. Something must really be off. “I don’t understand,” Deceit states with a shake of his head. “Why are you all looking so scared?” “W-what’s happening to you?” Thomas interjects, and the poor thing, he does look genuinely distressed. “He’s…” Roman begins, but his voice dies out. “…fading away,” Remus finishes, voice uncharacteristically quiet and eyes unusually bright. “Fading away?” Thomas echoes in panic. “What does that mean?” Logan is staring him down, challenging him to meet his gaze, and Deceit rises to the challenge. Logan looks healthier than he remembers. Stronger. His eyes are the strong, warm brown they should be. He wonders what his own eyes look like. How pale they must be. “How long has it been like this, Deceit?” Logan asks, and there’s some underlying softness to his tone, some understanding that the honesty of makes Deceit’s stomach turn. It takes him a moment to decide whether he wants to reply or not. “Months,” he eventually admits. He sees movement in his peripherals, and he turns to see Patton. Patton, with his hands over his mouth, horror shining in his eyes, and even better, realisation. “I…” Patton gasps, his eyes which almost glow with the intensity Deceit can feel bearing down on him even from across the room. Thomas, subconsciously, echoes the gesture. “I did this, didn’t I?” the moral side whispers. “I did this to you.” Thomas’ hands fall from his mouth, and his scared confusion turns on Patton. “What do you mean?” “The more a side is neglected, the less your mind considers them a priority, Thomas,” Logan starts to explain, and Deceit just clasps what’s left of his hands behind his back and watches with polite disinterest. “Logan,” Patton cuts the logical side off warningly. “We don’t want to scare him.” Logan recoils, glancing around the room, and his expression hardens as he sees Virgil nod in agreement and Roman look away without a word of opposition. Deceit’s hands tighten. He’s not upset, he tells himself sternly, and he feels a little better for it. “No, I want to know,” Thomas insists, and he’s actually glaring at Patton, and Deceit wonders what he missed in his months away. “Tell me!” “Believe me,” Patton repeats. “We don’t want to scare you.” He sounds like he’s about to cry. Everyone’s staring at Patton. Patton is staring at Deceit, like he’s the prime example of everything that’s gone wrong with them.

Something in Deceit’s chest snaps.

“I don’t understand why you’re upset,” he bites, his tone chillingly cold. “This,” he gestures up and down himself angrily, “is what you wanted all along, wasn’t it? So why aren’t you happy?” The silence that settles on them is choking. Deceit can’t keep himself from looking at everyone, searching for some answer. Everyone is staring with the same horrified face. “Why aren’t you celebrating?” he repeats, and hysteria is beginning to claw at his throat. “You’ve done it! You’ve defeated the bad side of Thomas! Hurray!” He throws what’s left of his hands in the air as a final, empty punctuation. “You’ve won,” he says hollowly. “Congratulations.”

“Deceit-” Thomas tries to start, but is silenced when Deceit simply raises a hand. Which is good, because he doesn’t have the strength to silence any of them the old-fashioned way anymore. “Please, Thomas,” he says quietly, with more sincerity than he really intended. “If you aren’t going to incorporate lying back into your life properly, don’t do it now. It’s...” He swallows. “It hurts when you just trickle-feed it.” “…Feed?” Deceit rubs his temples. “The most important thing for a side is to be used, Thomas,” he begins explains with as much patience he can muster. It’s not Thomas’ fault that they never told him. And even now he can feel Patton, Virgil and Roman’s desperate eyes itching his scalp, beginning him not to continue. That is a bit of a last straw for Deceit. His head snaps towards them, but mostly towards Patton, because he will be the first one to admit that his frustration over his situation has been directed at Patton, and he growls out, “he ought to know by now.” Three sets of eyes fall to the floor. “He deserves to know.” Thomas is glancing around at the others, and Deceit can see the dawning realisation that they have been willingly holding information from him, and will continue to do so happily, and a sharp pain shoots through him. He tries not to stumble, or to cry out. Logan catches him as he staggers. This is it. This is the last big thing the sides were hiding from Thomas. This is the last thing tethering Deceit here as they knew him. He feels sick. But he’s committed now. Deceit closes his eyes and hisses out a pained, annoyed breath. After all that, starving for months on end, he doesn’t even get the dignity of a peaceful death.

“Deceit,” Logan says softly, and Deceit cracks an eye open to look up at him. The side looks pale. They all look pale, like they’d seen a ghost. Deceit looks down at himself and realises why. Because Deceit barely exists now. The thinnest wisp of an outline is all that alludes to the fact that he had a full form now. He seems to just be a face. A sickly disembodied face. “He deserves to know,” Deceit repeats, and his voice sounds hollow and tinny, more like an echo than a sound. “Deceit,” Thomas interrupts, and he sounds so pained. “I don’t know what’s going on, but this sounds uncomfortably like you’re going to kill yourself to tell me the truth.” Deceit blinks at him a few times, before his gaze falls to the floor because when Thomas puts it that way, it sounds deranged. Awful. “Deceit, let me tell you something,” Thomas continues before Deceit could answer. “I feel… awful without you. I feel like I’ve destroyed my life and I know it’s because I haven’t been using you.” Deceit turns away, but there’s nowhere to hide for him, there’s nothing left to deceive them with. “I have been miserable,” Thomas states, crumpling in defeat. “We all have. Because we… I realise just how vital you are to keep me going. And if it takes you withholding this last bit of information about me to keep you around, I’d really rather you do that.” Patton opens his mouth to say something. Deceit turns to him, a ghostly mask, and those words die on his lips. “The video where I met you for the first time, without Patton? You were right,” Thomas says, catching Deceit’s gaze and fixating on him. “Not about lying all the time, but that lying can be good. That lying is important, and that lying is human. Deceit, I’ve been…” Thomas looks down at his hands, and Deceit notices they’re shaking. “There’s been nothing between my intrusive thoughts and my anxiety,” he mumbles out, and Deceit’s eyes wander over to Remus, who still looks uncharacteristically gaunt, and Virgil, who hugs himself tightly and does his best to disappear. “My creativity and my morals have been at war, because what I want, I can’t get because it means I’d have to neglect other’s needs.” Patton is staring at the ceiling, and it seems the weight of his decisions has hit him fully and is moving him to tears, though he is absolutely silent as he sobs. Roman, he now notices, is dead silent, utterly exhausted, and looking a little thin. Deceit notices that he is leaning on Remus to stay upright, who is holding him tightly like he’s afraid Roman’s going to disappear from his grasp. He notices Roman’s looking a little transparent around the edges. No wonder Remus is looking better than ever. “The only thing trying to keep me tied down to reality is logic,” Thomas whispers, because that’s all that can pierce this heady silence. “And logic can only do so much.” Deceit turns his head to look at Logan, Logan, who has slipped an arm under his shoulders to support him, even though there’s nothing to support. Logan, who’s still trying to keep everything together. “I have talked Thomas down from several panic attacks over the past few weeks,” Logan follows up softly. “I have talked Thomas down to putting the knives back in the kitchen and zip-tying the drawers closed. I have talked Thomas down from crashing his car into the next lamppost on the side of the road because it’s so hard to find things left to live for.” He sounds as shattered as Roman looks. Deceit swallows hard. “What does this have to do with me?” he asks. He knows. He does know. He just wants, for his own stupid, selfish reasons, to hear them say it. “Because I can’t live with myself! I can’t cope without you!” Thomas bursts out, and he sounds frantic, like a man pushed to the edge. “I’m so, so, so, sorry, Deceit. We need you! I need you!”

Deceit feels a rush of pure energy sweep through him, invigorating and grounding. His vision goes white. A cry is torn from his lips. All of a sudden, he has feeling in his fingertips.

Deceit falls to the floor with a gasp, landing on his knees and staring down at his gloved hands with fingers that fill out the full glove and his vision blurs as he can’t help but cry. He hasn’t felt this much in so long. He finds himself leaning back, settling on his thighs as he tugs off his gloves and holds his hands up to the light, eyes wide as he stares, examining every pore, searching for any hint of transparency that will prove this entire thing to be a dying dream, but the light doesn’t pass through his hands like that. He is whole. Everything comes into sharp focus, and he realises Thomas is crouching in front of him, calling his name, holding his hands out to him, and Deceit latches on, crying at the contact, and as Thomas pulls him in for a hug Deceit can’t keep himself from sobbing into his shoulder. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he sobs. “I know.” “I just wanted you to take care of yourself. You’re allowed to look after yourself first.” “I-I know, Deceit. It’s okay.” “It’s not wrong to be selfish! It’s not wrong to make sure your wounds have healed before you go around healing everyone else first!” Deceit cries, because these are words he wanted to say all those months ago at the court trial. “You deserve to come first, Thomas.” Thomas hug tightens, and he thinks the Centre is crying too. “T-thank you, Deceit,” he murmurs. “Your dreams are not unachievable. You’re allowed to fight for what you want and make a name for yourself how you please.” Thomas hums in response.

For the next few minutes, Deceit talks. Deceit talks and talks and says everything that has crossed his mind that he never thought he’d get to say. By the time he’s finished Patton’s eyes are the normal, strong, warm brown they should be and nothing more, and Roman is looking so much healthier. Deceit helps Thomas to his feet and he can’t hold back a smile at how easy it is to stand. He squeezes Thomas’ hand reassuringly, to prove he can. “So will you come back?” Thomas asks, and his face is full of hope. “Will you help me?” “Of course not,” Deceit deadpans, before breaking into a wide grin and winking. Thomas ducks his head and laughs. It feels so good to see Thomas laughing. “I need to say, though,” Deceit pauses, because he needs to ground them for a moment. “I can’t miraculously fix you. I can’t cover up truths you already know. And I don’t want to be blamed when that doesn’t happen.” Thomas nods, soberly, and he can see the exhaustion in his eyes. “It’s going to be okay,” Deceit tells him, with as much sincerity as he can muster. “I know it will. You’ll be okay.” There’s a rustle of movement, and suddenly there’s a pair of arms wrapping around him from behind. He freezes, before he realises that for one, this is a hug, and two, that it’s Virgil. “You scared me,” Virgil murmurs, face pressed into his back. “I’m sorry,” Deceit whispers back. There’s another rush of movement, and admittedly, a bad smell, and Remus is there and hugging him too. “You snakey bastard,” Remus chokes out, and Deceit wraps an arm around him and tries not to breathe through his nose because having working senses again is a little intense. “I-” Remus cuts himself off because he has no clue what to say. “Thanks,” Deceit replies anyway. Because this is probably the most sincere thing he will get out of the side. These two, who have put up with him for god knows how long, embracing him, actually touching him, remembering him. He can feel other people piling on, and he is surrounded by warmth. He’s never felt so whole in his life.

Everyone has gone their separate ways now, retreating to bedrooms and sofas, and Deceit lets himself sit in an armchair dragged over to Patton’s window. The blinds are up, letting warm afternoon sunlight shine through. He curls up in the glow, enjoying the warmth for the first time in a long time. The dragging of a chair across carpet causes him lazily open one eye at the sound, and he looks up to see Patton sitting across from him on a dining room chair, the discomfort written plain on his face. “Patton,” he states, closing his eye again. “D-Deceit,” Patton tries to respond in kind. The crack in his voice strikes something in Deceit. He freezes for a second, before sitting up properly and opening his eyes. “I should like to talk with you, if you would permit it,” Patton says, oddly formal, picking at the ends of his cardigan sleeves and not looking up. “Of course,” Deceit says softly. “There are things that need to be said.” “Yes,” Patton agrees immediately. “First of all, I am so sorry.” Deceit tries to smile. He really does. “It’s alright.” “It’s not,” Patton cuts him off curtly. “My behaviour was unacceptable.” He looks away and his eyes wander around the room. Deceit watches him for a moment, before heaving a sigh, and looking out the window. “Logan and I have discussed my behaviour over the past year,” Patton relays. He sounds detached. Methodical. “And I’ve come to many realisations today.” Deceit turns back to him, and reaches forward and takes Patton’s hand, causing the side to jump nearly out of his skin and his head to snap towards him. Patton’s eyes are large and watery, overflowing with emotions that he was refusing to let spill past his lips. “You don’t need to change who you fundamentally are to fix this,” Deceit comments. “You’re trying to be Logan right now. You’re trying to be … ‘grown up.’ And that’s not who you are. Pretending to be someone else is only going to hurt you, Patton.” Patton’s tears are threatening to spill over now. “You made some poor decisions. So did I. And some of my decisions have had way more impact than I would have liked,” Deceit continues, eyes falling down to their clasped hands. “I got so carried away with possibilities and what-if’s that I let Remus…” He sighs. “I hate to say escape, but that’s exactly what he did. I was keeping him prisoner down there until I decided Thomas could handle him.” “But he couldn’t,” Patton recoils in confusion. “Like I said, Remus escaped early. I came back from the trial and he was gone,” Deceit mumbles, withdrawing his hand to hug himself, trying to fight back shivers. “I let my guard down.” Patton is silent for a moment, before he laughs a little to himself. “If I hadn’t… emucised?” “I think the word you want is ostracised.” “Ostracised,” Patton echoes, before laughing at his own stupidity. If I hadn’t ostracised Remus so badly, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” he finishes, and he looks so disappointed in himself. “Because I think the Creative Split was my fault too.” Deceit looks down, and doesn’t say anything, because he believes that too. He remembers the day, years ago, waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, woken by the terrified scream of Creativity, which became two voices. He remembers racing down to his room to find two shaking green and red forms, asking who the other was, terrified. It had been a split of morals that had caused that. There was no two ways about it. “So I am revising my…” Patton searches for the word he wants, “ideology? Towards Remus, and towards you. Because for Thomas to be a good person we can’t ignore the bad, otherwise it…” “Festers,” Deceit offers, because that feels like an apt word. “And I can’t put my head down and ignore you, either, Morality. Whether we like it or not, I think we go hand in hand.” Patton dares to smile at that, and takes Deceit’s hand again. “I think that makes sense,” Patton agrees. “I have been chock-full of flawed logic and unconscious bias that has only hurt people.” “I can’t say that I wasn’t, either,” Deceit nods. “I…” He swallows hard and tries to keep eye contact. “I can’t promise everything out of my mouth will be kind,” he blurts, because it needs to be said. “I was lonely and bitter for so long, I needed something to blame. And that something became you.” Patton laughs sadly to himself. “Me too,” he comments, as he stands and offers Deceit a hand up. “We must be more alike than we think. But I’m willing to work with you now. Or, in the very least, I’m willing to try.” Deceit smiles, and accepts both the peace offering and the hand up with a nod of his head.

Patton suddenly pulls him into a hug. Deceit freezes in shock, because this much contact feels like it’s short-circuiting his brain, before melting into the warmth he’s so unused to. They stand there for a moment, before Patton pulls back. “Welcome to the famILY, Dee,” he offers. “May I call you Dee?” “Only if I may be permitted to call you Pat, Pat,” Deceit barters with a smile. “Done,” Patton grins, slapping his shoulder in the Dad way. “Now, want to help me with dinner? I’ll make sure we have something egg-cellent!” Deceit follows Patton into the kitchen with a laugh. “Oh, the endless pasta-bilities.” As he hears Patton laugh back, Deceit buzzes with excitement and warmth, because

He could almost dare to say he finally feels content.