#Sanders sides demon au

[thegoldenduckie]

Hey guys wanna see my silly angel demon au

I thought itd be a lot of fun to make the light sides demons and dark sides angels

More art and rambling under the cut! Id love it if you looked!

Ok im gonna ramble! Shoutout to @not-sure-what-im-feeling for contributing a lot of ideas and support to this au🫶

Roman Logan and Patton are demons

Virgil Janus and Remus are angels

Roman and Remus are brothers (ofc)

Roman used to be an angel but he fell and is now a fallen angel

The fall hurt :(

Roman then befriends Logan and Patton (or rather patton befriends him and logan warms up to roman)

Janus is a seraphim, and a pretty high ranking angel

Virgils role as an angel is to “deal with” and kill demons

Virgil and roman used to be good friends in heaven, but after romans fall virgil lost all respect for him and tried moving on from whatever friendship they had because hes a demon now and virgil assumes hes a bad guy

Roman still thinks fondly of his friendship with virgil :)

Remus really misses his brother

Theres probably more but i forget rn, if youre curious about anything please ask me id love to talk about this au🙏🙏

[delimeful]

nothing in this world (i wouldn't do) (6)

warnings: captivity, restraints, panic attacks, unethical science, experimentation, wounds, injury and blood mention, character being kind of an ass, fear, bird ex machina, lmk if i missed any  

-

Virgil woke up to find he was surrounded by darkness and completely unable to move.

Seeing as the last thing he remembered was being poisoned into unconsciousness by a demon slayer with mad scientist leanings, this was about as far from reassuring as an awakening could be.

For a disoriented moment, he tried to check for the baby crow, which mostly just involved him listening closely for any loud, raspy-voiced swearing. Naturally, there wasn’t any, because he’d blacked out and the slayer very clearly hadn’t wanted Roman’s bird anywhere near him.

Bizarrely enough, he felt a little morose at the baby crow’s absence. Maybe because she was the only creature who had figured out that despite being a monster, he wasn’t actually a threat to humanity.

Or maybe it was just because being immobilized in a dark, silent place was totally freaking him out, and he would have taken any company so long as it meant he hadn’t been locked away forever or buried alive.

(Could he still die from a lack of oxygen? Would he be stuck underground, conscious and alone, for the rest of time? He couldn’t even call out for help.)

His body was unresponsive, and nothing his brain was coming up with was remotely helpful, so Virgil focused on his breathing, trying to keep his count steady as he inhaled and exhaled air that could be rapidly running out—

By the time the slayer entered the room, Virgil had already hyperventilated himself into unconsciousness a few times, each time utterly convinced he was dying.

The man didn’t bother saying anything to him or even sparing him anything more than a glance, simply walking around the space and lighting several lamps at a brisk pace, but Virgil felt a vast, sweeping sense of relief fall over him regardless.

He wasn’t buried. He hadn’t been left alone to rot away in the dark.

He was… extensively strapped down to a waist-high table in the center of the room?

A significant amount of his relief started to fade. Right. He’d been caught by a slayer who wanted him dead or worse, and was now entirely at his mercy— assuming he even had any for demons.

There was another person in the room, too, and they scurried about so quickly that it took Virgil a few moments to identify them as the wary stranger who had sent him to go find their brother. They were wearing the same uniform as the slayer, now, which answered basically all of Virgil’s potential questions about the situation.

“Subject ABN-V3, Log 1,” the slayer started, and Virgil’s eyes flicked over to him curiously. “The subject regained consciousness approximately half an hour after halting the regular wisteria toxin doses, indicating remarkable poison resilience, comparable to a Lower Rank.”

There was the distinct scratch of hurried writing, but the slayer’s hands were unoccupied as he circled Virgil’s prone form. The younger slayer must have been an assistant.

There was a muted pressure on his hand, which refused to even twitch, even as the pressure grew heavier. The slayer hummed, pulling away. “In contrast, regeneration ability appears relatively slow. Internal organ function has resumed, but exterior nerves and muscles remain paralyzed.”

His organs had been paralyzed?! Virgil’s breathing stuttered, and he wrestled with the instinctual panic for a moment. His lungs were clearly working now, so he should just keep breathing and not pass out again.

When he looked back over, it was to the sight of the slayer staring directly at his face with a detached sort of curiosity. That composed mask of his may have dropped for a few moments in the clearing, but it was fully repaired and glued in place now.

“Do you have anything to say?” he asked, which was a little startling.

Virgil blinked at him for a moment, and then very quickly recalled that blinking was about all he could do. His hands weren’t cooperating with him, and even his head felt too heavy to shake or nod at the moment.

An irritated rumble started up in his chest for a moment before dying out, and he heaved a low sigh, already exhausted. He’d burnt through all his default terror while panicking in the dark, and now there was barely anything left to scrape up for his impending dehumanizing death.

The slayer only watched him impassively for another long, silent stretch of seconds before turning his attention away.

“Subject’s nonverbal behavior remains consistent with previous encounter,” he narrated, which succinctly explained why he’d bothered to verbally prod Virgil in the first place. “No secondary manifestations present in the room. We’ll proceed with direct regeneration testing while the paralytic is still in effect.”

There was a metallic clink, and Virgil’s gaze flicked over to a tray covered with tools he could only guess at the purpose of. Most of them were sharp-edged.

At least he wouldn’t be able to feel them. Yet.

The slayer picked up a thin blade, and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, in an attempt to not have to see whatever was being done to him.

The narration of that calm, clinical voice couldn’t be as easily blocked out, so he found out regardless.

—

His healing factor had improved a lot since being turned into a monster, but it wasn’t anywhere close to the level he’d seen from some of the other demons he’d fought, so he wasn’t surprised to find that the first thing he felt when the paralysis began to wear fully off was pain.

The wounds weren’t serious, at least. He hoped that didn’t mean they were saving more lethal ones for when he could actually feel them, but he wasn’t optimistic about his odds.

(Unsurprisingly, it seemed like most demon slayers really hated demons.)

The slayer seemed strangely perturbed by the way the methodical injuries he’d inflicted hadn’t healed yet. Apparently, vastly accelerated healing was the norm for most demons, so this was just another way in which Virgil was a freaky outlier. Virgil could have told the slayer as much himself if he’d been able to sign.

Not to say that he’d regained all his vocabulary. With his limbs strapped firmly down, his post-poison communication was limited to signs that he could form with just his hands, and no accompanying movements. Fingerspelling was tedious, but at least it was possible.

“S-L-E-E-P,” he’d signed when the slayer had been theorizing on his apparently deeply unusual slow healing. “L-O-N-G.”

It took a few repetitions for his captor to pay it any mind, but once he did, his expression immediately creased with doubt. Virgil let himself look irritated about the reaction, because really, what was the point in pretending? He was screwed either way.

“If hibernation periods could heal demons, there would be longer stretches of inactivity between attacks,” the slayer said, frowning down at him. “It would make my job much easier if that were the case, but it isn’t.”

Since when was Virgil the representative for all of demonkind? He’d barely even spoken to other demons, since generally their interactions tended to start and end with them trying to kill each other. This was his supernatural sleeping schedule, not theirs.

Generally, he only slept like that when he was injured. If he wasn’t hurt in a fight, he didn’t get tired. He signed as much to the slayer, and earned a disbelieving scoff for his efforts.

Virgil had only been dozing lightly so far, seeing as he was currently trapped and about as far from safety as he could possibly get, but the disbelief rankled, and he huffed before pointedly closing his eyes as though to prove it.

He thought maybe the slayer wouldn’t allow it— there probably wasn’t much to scientifically observe when your subject is sleeping— but to his surprise, the man only noted down the behavior and then left.

It took a good part of the first day to force himself down into genuine sleep, but being left alone in a quiet space was close enough to his usual cave naps that he eventually managed to sink into the heavy unconsciousness of one of his impromptu hibernation sessions.

A full week later, he snorted into wakefulness to see the slayer had unstrapped one arm and was inspecting the smooth skin where the incisions had been previously.

This must not have been the first time he’d removed a restraint to see if Virgil was faking his beauty rest, because his head shot up with keen alarm the moment Virgil’s eyes fluttered open.

He released Virgil’s hand and drew a thin, needle-like dagger from his side in the same moment, presumably a breath away from poisoning him back into temporary organ failure.

Virgil barely even registered the movement, his eyes still crusted over with sleep. Half-awake and triumphant, he blearily inspected his completely-healed arm and then promptly signed, “I told you so.”

“Return your arm to the restraint,” the slayer instructed, his voice brooking no argument and his gaze assessing.

Virgil made a sour face, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t you have cuffs?” he asked, turning slightly so he could tap his free wrist to his strapped down one for the last sign. “I could at least sign in those.”

“The restraint. Immediately,” the slayer replied, firm as stone.

A low grumbling growl of complaint started up in Virgil’s chest, but there was no way he could get free of the other restraints quickly enough to try and escape, and he really wasn’t looking to get his organs shut down again for no reason.

Besides, the assistant kid was still there in the corner, watching him with wide eyes, and he didn’t like the idea of scaring them.

Fine. He’d go back to his stupid nap then.

With a petulant scowl, he closed his eyes and stuck his arm back out and allowed the slayer to pin it back into place and tighten the straps over it. He flipped him off afterwards, though, just to make things clear.

It was quiet for long enough that he pried his eyes back open suspiciously. Both of the slayers were staring at him like he’d just started abruptly juggling fish or something, and he raised his eyebrows in a display of irritated bewilderment.

For once, the slayer didn’t have some snappy annotation to spout, only glaring down at Virgil with his jaw working like he was gritting his teeth.

Was he really that pissed off that Virgil had been telling the truth about his healing? Why?

“Professor Logan—,” the baby slayer whispered, faltering when Virgil’s gaze flicked their way.

“That’s enough for today,” ‘Logan’ answered, stepping away from the table. “We’ll speak elsewhere.”

Virgil only barely managed to stifle an incredulous noise as the two of them left, putting the lights out as they went. They’d never bothered to take their rude and often horrifying conversations about him elsewhere before. Maybe he should try being right about things more often.

—

“Bastard!”

Virgil’s eyes flew open at the muffled call, his head feeling much clearer after sleeping off the last of the poison’s symptoms.

It was quiet and dark all around him, as always, and for a moment, he nearly convinced himself that he’d imagined the noise entirely.

Then, from outside the door, there was a raspy squawk and an audible ruffling of feathers. “Fiend! Fiend?”

… Just how determined to swear at him was this bird?!

He couldn’t exactly respond, and he wasn’t sure why he would want to. Logan had reacted extremely negatively to the bird existing in the same space as him last time, and he wouldn’t wager that the slayer’s attitude had changed in the past however many days.

Still, the crow was clearly looking for someone, possibly even him. He could hear the distinctive pitter-patter of little taloned feet scurrying back and forth on the floor, with the occasional inquisitive swear thrown in.

After a few long minutes of this, Virgil gave up on trying to go back to sleep, unable to tune the little creature out. He may as well try to answer in the limited way he could.

It took entirely too long, but he managed to purse his lips and whistle a long, low note.

The clicking of steps stopped dead, and then grew abruptly louder, the bird’s faux-speech taking on an excited tone.

The baby crow audibly scrabbled at the doorway for a few seconds, before evidently managing to worm her way under the door gap. From there, she made short work of the flight up to the table, where she immediately perched directly on Virgil’s forehead and peered upside down at him.

“Scourge!” she announced gleefully.

Someone certainly hadn’t learned her lesson about fraternizing with big scary demons. He whistled an amused note at her, fingers twitching in an impulse to reach up and ruffle her feathers before he remembered his situation.

Right. No bird-petting for monsters, he guessed.

The crow— wasn’t her name Fluffbutt or something?— seemed to notice the movement, though, and she traversed down Virgil’s arm in little hops. He still couldn’t really reach her scruff of downy baby feathers from this angle, but he gave it his best attempt.

Fluffbutt pecked him harshly, which, rude, and then she turned around and started picking at the straps holding his forearm down.

… No fucking way.

Virgil craned his neck to look over at the bird, his disbelief slowly melting away as he saw that yes, the crow really was tugging and prying at the corded knot holding the restraints in place like her life depended on it.

It was slow going, but as she steadily worked at it, Virgil could tell that progress was being made. He wiggled his arm testingly every so often, usually getting bit for his efforts, and after what felt like hours of agonizing waiting, he finally managed to pull through the last threads of the restraints.

He only had one arm free, but that and some time was all he really needed. Fluffbutt reclaimed her spot on his forehead, watching as he quickly tore at the restraints on his other limbs.

As it turned out, quickly sitting up for the first time in days was a bad idea. Virgil rode out the surge of dizziness and pushed to his feet, pacing back and forth in the small room until he was confident that his legs had remembered how to function well enough to get him out of there.

A simple test of the handle revealed the room had been locked, and Virgil wasted a few minutes poking through the unsettling number of medical tools in the room before realizing there was no way they’d left the key in here with him.

He could probably kick the door down if given a few tries, but the more noise he made, the more likely it was that Logan would find him mid-escape and put him right back in those restraints. Virgil had no illusions on how a second match between him and the uncannily quick slayer would turn out, which meant that stealth was currently his best friend.

He turned his gaze to the wall, wondering if they were flimsy enough that it would be better to try and punch a hole through one of those, but before he could decide further, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

Shit. Plastering himself against the wall, he waited tensely for them to pass by— only for them to pause right outside the doorway. There was the distinct click of a key being inserted into a lock. Double shit.

The door swung open, and the assistant slayer had just enough time to look up and see the empty specimen table before Virgil leapt at them.

Don’t freak out, he would have said if his hands weren’t currently occupied with covering the slayer’s mouth and dragging them bodily into the room. Instead, he made a series of low chuffing sounds from deep in his chest, which helped absolutely nothing about the current situation.

“Scourge!” Fluffbutt crowed, her contribution equally as unhelpful.

Hurriedly booting the door shut with his foot, Virgil only had a moment before the baby slayer gave up on trying to pry his hand away and instead went for the sword sheathed at their side.

Since letting them do that was basically a one-way street to getting decapitated, he risked releasing them for long enough to tear his claws through their belt and yank the sword free, sheathe and all, before tossing it into a corner with a muted thud.

“PRO—,” they started, and Virgil slapped his hand back over their mouth, hissing lowly in the closest approximation to a shush that he could manage. They responded by glaring and biting him, which he really should have expected after living with teenagers for a few months.

It only took a glance around the room to find a suitable cloth from the cache of cleaning supplies, and Virgil wrangled the baby slayer into a headlock for the handful of seconds it took him to assemble a makeshift gag and shove it in their mouth.

With the slayer now unable to raise the alarm, Virgil paused for a moment to think, his whole body jittering with sudden adrenaline. The easiest solution would obviously be to strap the slayer into the convenient demon-proof restraints readily available on the specimen table, but he really didn’t want to do that. The kid was already panicking hard enough, the last thing he wanted was to make them think he was going to experiment on them or something.

Instead, he tore a larger piece of linen into strips and wound them around the slayer’s wrists a few times before knotting the end of the faux-ropes intensively around one of the table legs.

The slayer started yanking against the makeshift restraints the moment Virgil stepped away, their cries muffled but still audible enough that he should really be escaping sooner rather than later.

Luckily, his cloak had been dumped on a nearby shelf with the rest of the meager belongings he carried with him, mostly ignored after Logan had finished snooping through it for bones or something. Virgil ignored Fluffbutt swooping noisily around his head as he slung the comforting weight back around his shoulders and pulled the hood up, and then stepped back around the table towards the door.

The baby slayer seemed to think he was headed for them instead, their gaze very obviously wide with terror as they scrambled ineffectively to get away from him. He stopped short, guilt swamping him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he signed, backing up a few paces to try and give them some space. “I just want to get out of here, okay?”

The kid stared at him, chest rising and falling as rapidly as a sparrow’s. He sort of wished he had heard their name at some point, but it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. As it was, he didn’t even know if they knew sign, let alone how to calm them down.

He sighed, lifting his hands up to his shoulders in a gesture of nonaggression, and edged around them to finally get to the door. Fluffbutt settled on his shoulder, apparently content to be identified as a little feathered demon-associating traitor. 

The hall was blessedly empty when he stuck his head out to check, and so he waved a small farewell to the kid— almost certain that they would wriggle out of those haphazard bonds within the hour— and closed the door after himself.

The key was still sitting there in the lock, so he twisted it to relock the room, and after a moment of thought, dropped the key and kicked it under the door so that the kid wouldn’t be stuck if nobody else came by in the next few hours.

He’d done it. He was out— mostly, anyhow.

Now, all he had to do was stay out.

[lolia21]

Well I feel down a Sanders Sides rabbit hole and now I have one fan fic idea that keeps playing in my head:

Remus and Roman are twins but they don't attend the same school because Remus was... himself and his parents were kindly asked to transfer him to a school that "fits his personality better". So he goes to a school a whole district over. He gets along with Roman and he loves him but they are very different people so they don't hang out a lot. Remus also can't stand the blatant favoritism they're parent give Roman. He thinks it's sweet that Roman tries to tap it down but it doesn't change anything.

Sp Remus spends most of his free time at his friend Janus house with his other friend Virgil. Janus also shouldn't be attending their school cause he's loaded but he hated the prep school he was sent to and transferred behind his parents back. Money can get you literally anything. Expect real friends which is why Janus loves Remus and Virg so much. Virgil is actually living at a near by boys home. As a kid his home situation wasn't great and he doesn't talk about it a lot. He ended up at Sanders House four years ago though and it's not too bad.

So anyway Roman has never meet Remus' friends and Remus has never met Roman's friend Patton and Logan. Whenever they come over is always at Janus' house. He knows they exist just like Roman knows Virgil and Janus do but they've not met in person over the last two years.

So it all starts pm a long weekend because Halloween is Friday. ( fun fact my school in gerogia gave us Halloween and Valentines off and used it as teacher workshop days.)

So of course the dark side trio is hype, roaming the mall, scaring people, judging costumes, and trying to find accessories to improve their own.

The light side trio is also their because Patton waited too late to get a "decent" (Roman's words) costume, and Logan was hoping to avoid getting one at all.

The crowds get so bad that everyone is separated. Luckily both sides actually have designated met spots, tho for very different reasons. The darks sides met spot is the horror section at Barnes and Nobles. It's large enough that Virgil won't feel claustrophobic and he can read some Poe while he waits and not have people constantly asking if he needs assistance. It was a place chosen, so he doesn't have a panic attack while he waits for his friends since he's the only one without a phone.

On the other had the light side trio chose the lgbtq+ teen romance section as their meet spot. Mainly Because it'll distract Roman enough that he won't get bored of waiting and wonder out to find his friends before they get there. Defeating the purpose of the spot all together.

You can see where this is going.

Patton has been trying to get on the elevator for the last five minuets but everyone time he tries to get on the same time as someone else he let's them all go first and theres no room for him. This goes on until a nice but kinda rude stranger just days "oh my gawd" and pulls him in as he in goes in. The stranger honestly looks way to well dressed to be here and doesn't even introduce himself. He just starts playing on his phone and Patton doesn't know whether saying thank you would be annoying or not. Janus on the other hand is texting Remus about how just met someone who reminds him a little of freshman Virgil and how he hopes he's not freaking out.

Logan has decided to take the stairwell because he knows that people arr less likely to use it over the escalators or elevators. He looks a floor above him and someone who kinda sorta looks like Roman sliding down the railing on his ass and laughing the whole time. He barely has time to dodge as someone yells " dodge nerd" and flies past him. Honestly Logans so surprised by whatever the hell that was that it take him two whole ass minutes to start walking again. Remus is just having a blast. He didn't think this would work and he saw a pretty cute nerd on the way down.

Roman is having a complicated time. He lgbtq teen romance section is usually in the front if the store but it's been switched with the horror section for the month. So here is is not being able to decide whether he should just stay here because the ia the physical spot he normals what's at or go the the actual section with all the books about the boys kissing that he likes to read. Virgil on the other hand is on the virge (ha) of kinda freaking out. He's happy that the sectionnis getting more love, even if it's only for money. But he liked that it was in the back and away from the crowds of people coming in and out. Not to mention theirs someone dude dresses like a prince yelling on the phone to someone named Patton about whether he should "go to the section of love and acceptance or stay in emo hell". Virgil is insulted enough by this to tell him Roman to please stop yelling and go to whatever section isn't here. Roman rolls his eyes calls him knock off Gerard way and ignores him. Virgil completely forgets how nervous he was becuase now his piss3d and they get into an arguments.

It ends when Patton walks in and calls for Roman at the same time that Janus calls in and calls for Virgil. They look to their friend seemingly coming in together and are about to complain to their respective friends when Janus, Virgil and Roman here a familiar voice go

"Brobro what are you doing here. Hey Jan, hey virge," and Remus walks in completely unaware of the fighting that was just happening. Virgil tries to actually get a good like at this guy's face and realizes that without the make up and general zanny disposition he does look a lot like Remus. Before anyone can respond tk that, an another person asks

"OH God Roman what did you do? Who are they?" And of course it's Logan.

So now are dark sides are standing on one side and all the lights on the other. As the two siblings and their two different friend groups collide. Teen hurt, comfort and angst ensues.

[starlocked01]

Twisted Tongues Around Our Souls

AO3 Link

Summary: Virgil isn't your average high school student. He's frankly below average: below average grades, below average number of friends, below average complexion, and below average number of parents. Life has always felt like walking on a razor thin wire. And one day that razor snapped and nothing was there to catch him. Until he summoned his own personal demons. Surely they aren't too much for him to handle…

Characters: Virgil, Patton, Logan, Roman, Remus, Janus, OCs Relationships: Platonic LAMP, Ambiguous Dark Sides Content Warnings: Blood, Intrusive Violent Thoughts, Suicidal Thoughts, Animal Abuse, Minor Character Death, Animal Death, Religious imagery, Demonic Summoning, Bullying, Swearing,

My second story for the @xts-reverse-bangx Reverse Bang! Inspired by the ever haunting work of @lickoutyourbrains Go check it out!!

[not-sure-what-im-feeling]

I made some fanart of @thegoldenduckie’s Angel!Virgil design <3 it’s watercolour and pencil crayon

Additional: the sketch I did beforehand

[bendyartistic]

You guys aren't gonna believe what I did... 💀

[a-r-a-h-a-s]

Just summoning some demons with your bff

[monkeythefander]

Click below the cut for an Intruality angel x demon drawing.

Here’s an angel x demon Intruality drawing. Patton is an angel and Remus is a demon. However, Remus isn’t just a regular demon, he’s a fallen angel (that’s why he has wings).

[g0dwat3rwritings]

I just reached 150 followers this morning, so, I wanted to ask. What should I do for it?

If there's any specific writing requests you know for a fact that I write, be sure to send them in! For anything really, angst or fluff!

You can always ask about fandoms and I'll let you know if I'll write them or not!

Ive been hyperfixated on Twisted Wonderland and Obey Me the most lately, so those will probably be put out quicker than others!

Just please remember my rules!

[th3w00ds]

Egos + Sanders Sides Demon Slayer AU

Need I say more?

[naminethewriter]

Between Two Lives Chapter Two: Gluttony

Masterpost | Previous | Next | Ao3

Summary: Written for Intrulogical Week 2022 @intrulogicalweek

Logan is stuck in Limbo until the Afterlife Registration Bureau processes his case so he can properly move onto a afterlife, whether that is heaven, hell, reincarnation or something else. While wandering around aimlessly, he��s approached by a demon that introduces himself as Remus and offers him a quicker way to the next life.

Content Warnings: Food, Discussion of Past Lives

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Salutations Remus.”

 “There you are! I almost thought you changed your mind!” Remus grinned at Logan. Today the demon was dressed in what Logan would consider a more reasonable outfit than the day before with black, ripped pants that covered his entire legs, though paired with the same boots and a shirt that had more colors than Logan had seen since he got to Limbo.

 “I apologize, I did not remember the path as well as I thought I did,” he explained, straightening his tie. As a pair the two must look very odd since Logan’s shirt was neatly tucked into his pants and without a wrinkle on it. Add to that his dress shoes and slacks, the two couldn’t have more different styles.

 Remus took a look around. “Yeah, this place doesn’t really have anything that makes it stand out, huh? You know what, I’ll take you back to your apartment later, then I can pick you up there next time.”

 “That is satisfactory.”

“Great! Let’s get to todays challenge! I need you to take my hand.” Logan raised a brow but didn’t argue. “Better press those teeth together, you don’t wanna bite your tongue!” Remus warned as the other takes his hand and before Logan can ask what he means by that, he’s pulled through a portal of some kind. Thankfully he heeded Remus’ warning because as the land on the other side, the impact would have for sure clacked his teeth together rather forcefully.

 “Welcome to Sector P!” Remus announced and Logan takes a moment to look around. They stood on a street, similar to the ones in his own sector, but instead of apartment buildings – though he could see lots of them, too, just a bit further away – it was lined with restaurants. Any food imaginable was advertised with blinking signage, not as brilliant as on earth, they were still in Limbo after all, but it was much livelier than in the sector Logan was used to.

 “I was under the impression that all sectors were the same,” he said after clearing his throat.

 “Yeah, most would. They don’t really tell you that they group you based on like one defining characteristic.” Remus starts wandering down the road, eyeing the different signs. Logan follows, brows pinched.

 “What characteristics?”

 “Well, this is the sector for the foodies. There’s one for gamblers, nature lovers, children, animal people and so on. The ARB picks one out that seems to fit the best and sends you there.”

 “I understand, I think. But what is my sector about then? It’s a lot emptier.”

 “I think Sector G is mostly for loners and intellectuals. You had a library at one point but that apparently led to some fights about books and heated debates.” Remus used air quotes as he said ‘heated’. “It caused more trouble than it was worth, so they just put some random, fancy books in your rooms and hoped that would keep you entertained for long enough.”

 Indeed, there had been some books in Logan’s apartment, and despite them not catering to his specific tastes, he had read them since there was nothing else to do, but he finished them a while ago and had no desire to revisit them. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that his neighbors could have different ones he could borrow.

 “Here we are!” Remus called, pulling Logan out of his thoughts. They stood in front of a restaurant that advertised their all-you-can-eat buffet. With a grin, Remus led Logan inside. Immediately they were assaulted with an almost overwhelming mix of different smells. They all came from the buffet that had a bigger selection than Logan had ever seen.

 “This seems… excessive,” he commented, making Remus giggle.

 “You are the kind of person that would say that. You’re challenge for today is to try everything here.”

 “Everything?” Logan asked, eyes wide. “There is no way I can eat that much.”

 “Sure you can, if you put your mind to it!”

 “What about allergies?” Logan didn’t have any, but he was willing to fake one. Remus bellowed out a laugh.

 “You’re dead! You can’t have allergies!”

 “What do you mean?”

 “You don’t have a flesh prison anymore that could react badly to anything here. You don’t need to breathe anymore either. You’re a soul, you don’t need sustenance. I could stab you and nothing would happen.”

 Logan furrowed his brows in thought. “But I still feel pain. I even cut myself before.”

 “That’s because you’re used to having a flesh prison. You expect to feel pain, so you feel pain.”

 “You mean it’s like a pavlovian response?”

 “Yeah, essentially. It’s a habit your soul isn’t aware of.”

 “I see. But then what is the point of the restaurant if no one here needs to eat?”

 “Questions like that are exactly why you don’t have any in your sector. Some people enjoy the taste of food, even if it doesn’t get them anything else. Now, no more questions, you don’t have forever.” Remus pulled Logan over to a table where he plops down in a seat. “Go on, get a selection. I’ll wait here.”

 “If you insist,” Logan sighs and gets to work. Deciding to start at the salad bar, he filled a bowl with all different types of leaves, toppings, and sauces, before returning to Remus.

 “Starting light, are we?” he asked with his typical grin. Logan simply nodded.

 “I did not experiment much with food during my lifetime, so I thought I would start with what is familiar.”

 “Smart but boring.”

 “I am not in the intellectual sector for nothing,” Logan commented dryly, earning another laugh from Remus.

 “Tell me why else you’re there,” he asked, propping up his chin on his hands and studying Logan intently as he takes the first bite of his salad.

 “I was a professor in life. I have a doctorate in astronomy.”

 “Uhh, I love space!” Remus exclaims, wiggling in his seat. “It’s a shame I rarely get to see it. Tell me more.”

 So, during the time it took Logan to eat his salad, they discussed space and Logan’s research. In the time it took Logan to fill his plate a second time, this time with an array of appetizers, Remus decided he wanted to change topics.

 “What about family, Nerdy Wolverine? Ever got married?” he asked before Logan had even sat back down.

 “No. I had a few relationships during my twenties and at the beginning of my thirties, but they didn’t last that long. I never missed it, however.”

 “Yeah, that checks out, I guess.”

 “What about you?” Logan shot back, a bit offended by Remus dismissive comment.

 “I never got married when I was alive, but I’ve got-“

 “Wait a minute,” Logan interrupts. “You were alive once? A human, I mean?”

 “Yeah. Was ages ago, but yeah.”

 “How did you become” – Logan gestures to his horns and wings – “a demon then? I thought you were created like that.”

 “There are some demons and angels like that, mostly the oldest ones, but I think most of us are converted from human souls after being alive.”

 “Did you choose to become a demon then?”

 “Yeah! I was in heaven for a while, but it was like super boring and then I met Janny and he showed me how fun things can be, so I decided to become a demon and stick with him. We’ve been together ever since.”

 “Fascinating. What about your family then? If you had one, I mean.”

 “I wasn’t really close to anyone but my brother. We were soldiers, born and bred, pretty much, so we didn’t get a lot of parental love if you know what I mean. But me and Ro got along for the most part. Ended up becoming war heroes and died on a battlefield. Got us both into heaven and while I went down to hell, Ro stayed up there and became an angel. We still hang out from time to time.”

 “That’s allowed? Aren’t heaven and hell enemies?”

 “They used to be but not anymore really since there are way too many souls nowadays. It’s why this whole Limbo system exists; they would be overrun otherwise.”

 They continued like that for hours. Remus would ask Logan about his life on earth and Logan would inquire about the afterlife while slowly making his way through the assortment of dishes. Neither of them really paid attention to that though, too enthralled by their discussion.

 Eventually Logan arrived at the table with one last plate.

 “This should be all that I’m missing. I don’t feel like I ate all that much.”

 “Like I said when we came here, you don’t have a flesh prison anymore, you don’t have a stomach you can fill.”

 “And I suppose since I was so focused on our discussion, I didn’t even register how much I ate which is why it didn’t trigger the pavlovian response.”

 “Sounds legit to me,” Remus shrugged and watched as Logan finished the last of the dishes. “Congrats, Wristwatch, you passed challenge one!”

 “Thank you, Remus. I must say this was more delightful than I thought. You are a good conversationalist.”

 “Aw, thanks, Lo Lo! I had fun, too. But it’s time to go back. Gimme your hand.”

 Logan blinked. “Don’t we have to pay?”

 Remus burst out laughing. “Pay with what? We don’t have money here. And have you seen even one employee around here?”

 “I haven’t but… Where does the food come from then?”

 “Don’t question everything, dork. Now let’s go.”

 Logan wanted to protest more but he stopped himself. He had taken up a lot of Remus’ time already and they would meet again soon, so he could postpone his curiosity for now.

 “Very well then.” He takes Remus hand and is pulled through another portal.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“So, how was your day with the stuck-up?” Janus asked later that day when Remus once again deposited himself on his lap.

 “Fun! Got a lot of info about him. He was a professor for astronomy! He told me lots of space facts!”

 “Sounds wonderful, dear.”

 “Yeah, and tomorrow I’m gonna take him to Sector W.”

 “Isn’t that the sector full of… Are you sure that is a good idea, Muse?”

 “It’s gonna be fun, don’t worry!”

 “I doubt he will find it funny.”

 “I’m gonna make it up to him after. But first I really want to rile him up. He’s hot when he’s passionate.”

Janus sighed. He had a feeling that he would need to step in before the seven challenges were done.

[thegoldenduckie]

Welcome to hell

Thinks about my angel & demon au…

[delimeful]

nothing in this world (i wouldn’t do) (5)

warnings: mentions of cannibalism, mild blood and injury, arguing & dehumanization, captivity, poison, references to unethical science practices

-

In the end, Virgil left without saying goodbye.

Once all the secrets between them had been thoroughly overturned and dragged into the light by Patton’s visit, his two housemates started their training back up in earnest. Apparently, Virgil’s presence had unintentionally stalled them.

He did his best to help where he could, but no matter how many self-defense moves or surprise attacks he drilled into them, he couldn’t help but feel that there were more drawbacks than benefits to his presence.

After all, he was no trained slayer, regardless of rumor. His fighting technique mostly consisted of ‘take more chunks out of the other guy than he does of you,’ which wasn’t exactly viable for anyone without a demon’s regenerative abilities.

Even more pressingly, the kids were fond of him, always arguing about his status as a monster, and he was worried that it would get them hurt. Surely, there were other demons out there who would try to act harmless or friendly in order to lower an opponent’s defenses.

Virgil was pretty sure he was a bizarre outlier, a statistical anomaly that had gotten knocked in the head during the transformation or something. He’d never met another demon that didn’t want to kill people. He wouldn’t bet on another one even existing.

He knew the two of them had a history of their own when it came to demons, and neither were idiots. But neither were they cruel, and that soft-hearted nature was what concerned him.

Virgil didn’t want to be the reason they tried to extend a helping hand, only to get it bitten off.

He couldn’t bring himself to attack them wholeheartedly, to try and scare any missing portion of survival instincts back into them, because he was selfish.

(He doubted it would work, anyhow. The two of them had gotten concerningly good at calling his bluffs.)

He couldn’t bring himself to give them a proper goodbye, because he was a coward.

(He’d said a farewell to Thomas, that day he’d sent him down the mountain, hugged him tight until he’d smacked his shoulder and complained about worrywart brothers crushing the life out of him.

He’d said goodbye, and lost him in all the ways that mattered.)

Instead, he helped run them through one last day of training, exhausting every muscle, and then waited until the two of them were dead asleep before slipping out a window into the night.

Harley’s preternatural sense of smell was good enough that just dipping himself in a body of water wasn’t going to shake them, so instead Virgil relied on his own unnatural ability, and scaled a sheer cliff face to travel by treetop for a bit. It didn’t matter if they knew which direction he headed so long as they weren’t physically capable of following.

They had their own lives, their own goals to pursue. This was for the best.

And if Virgil found that his solitary travels suddenly felt much lonelier?

Well. It wasn’t like there was anyone around to notice.

—

It hadn’t even been a full month before trouble found Virgil again.

Maybe it would be more accurate to say that he was sent into trouble. After all, the circumstances of his current situation seemed far too precise to be a coincidence.

He hadn’t thought anything of it when a teen had approached him timidly on one of the roads skirting a sizable town. It had happened time and time again before, though usually those approaching didn’t carry so much nervous tension. Most people were only a little wary of what they assumed was a demon slayer dedicated to protecting them.

That should have been his first sign, in hindsight, but he’d been too busy being morose about missing his own temporary wards to take note.

Maybe he should have worried about how their friendship would impact him a little, too. He doubted he’d ever be able to look at a younger slayer without seeing them again.

The stranger had pleaded for help, watching him with a curious spark in their gaze, and gave him directions to a nearby grove, one that multiple people had apparently disappeared in, including their older brother.

Virgil had fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. He hadn’t thought to ask around for other victims, or even notice that nobody else on the path seemed familiar enough with the rumor to recognize him.

He hadn’t had the faintest inkling it was a trap until the snare had already cinched around his neck.

Metaphorically. Literally, it was more of a cage.

He hadn’t thought much of the trees ringing the clearing, not when he’d noticed more pressing details, like a collapsed form in the middle of it. He’d felt his heart kick up a few notches at the sight.

(He really hadn’t wanted to have to bring a body back to a little brother.)

There had been a worrisome pressure inside his skull as he’d hurried forward, like the lightheaded sensation that warned you you were going too high too fast while traversing mountains, but it hadn’t been that strong, and he’d been worriedly scenting the air for blood, and then—

And then the figure had pushed to their feet and fluidly ducked right out of the clearing, as though they’d never been injured at all.

A pop, and the pressure vanished. Virgil treaded forward a few paces after the stranger, bewildered, and was met with a wall of pain the moment he tried to exit the clearing.

He recoiled with a yelp, staring at the empty space between the trees with something like betrayal.

There were tiny purple petals scattered along the ground. Virgil cast his eyes upward with no little dread.

Wisteria trees formed a lavender-colored canopy ringing the clearing, a breathtaking sight, one that he definitely should have noticed before waltzing right into the middle of it.

He turned back the way he came, only to find that there was now a sapling stuck in the dirt hole he’d hopped past earlier. Its blooms were sparse compared to the older trees around it, but Virgil got the feeling it wasn’t any more likely to let him through.

Slowly turning a full circle, he still couldn’t see any trace of the formerly-collapsed stranger or whoever had decided to screw him over via tree-planting.

There was a distant birdcall, the high-pitched caw of a crow.

Virgil recalled the way Roman had decapitated a demon in the blink of an eye, and felt a shudder run through him, his shoulders raising up to his ears.

He suddenly felt a lot more empathy for every hare that had ever gotten caught in his family’s traps.

“How unusual. The vast majority of cognizant demons are far more aggressive by this point.”

The voice was clinical and steady, and when Virgil turned towards it, he found a stranger in a familiar black uniform, a sword strapped to his hip.

The slayer was watching him with an icy, dispassionate gaze, standing just beyond the circumference of the trees.

He was so screwed.

“Nothing to say?” the slayer asked, raising an eyebrow. “No futile demands, no pointless threats?”

Virgil felt his face pinch slightly. What would he even threaten the guy with? Watching him bash his face into the brain-fryingly painful walls of his magic flower cage?

“Patton was right,” he continued, watching as the breath visibly caught in Virgil’s lungs. “You certainly are a unique specimen.”

Patton had—?

Oh.

Virgil’s chest felt a little like it was crumpling inwards, a wilting flower crushed underfoot. He drooped slightly, despite knowing that this was a completely reasonable response. Really, it should have been the fact that he was even allowed to stay with DW and Harley that was surprising, not this.

The hug had probably been to distract him, then. A shocking gamble to make sure he didn’t realize that Patton knew the truth about him.

He should’ve known better.

“I’d advise you to save us both the time and drop the act,” the slayer continued, apparently a bit thrown off by Virgil taking a moment to wallow in completely pointless self-pity. “You’ll find that I’m far harder to trick than soft-hearted fools.”

Was he talking about the kids?

Virgil felt his face pull into a scowl, despite the fact that he’d worried about that exact thing himself. Those were his soft-hearted fools, and not even highly skilled top-ranking demon slayers were allowed to be cruel to them.

“They’re good kids,” he signed sharply, having more trouble than usual forcing his hands into the proper shapes. “Be nice.”

The stranger’s eyebrows flew up slightly, before settling back down into something even colder. “How long did they have left? When did you plan to stop playing nice with your food?”

Virgil recoiled so severely that his hood toppled back, revealing his demonic features and disgusted expression alike.

It shouldn’t have been such a shock. He knew how demons worked, was intimately familiar with the instincts that had plagued him since he’d first regained consciousness as a monster, but the past few months had left him surprisingly thin-skinned. While living there, that sort of vicious accusation was only thrown in his face in his more miserable nightmares.

He’d have sooner used DW’s knife to decapitate himself than tried to take a bite out of one of the kids.

His hands fumbled for a moment, before he gave up and resorted to a sharp shake of his head instead. A firm denial.

The slayer’s face contorted with a hint of anger, the patch of skin between his eyebrows beginning to wrinkle. “Enough. Behavioral oddities are one thing, but they won’t convince anyone with real experience. Demons are motivated only by power and their next meal. Stop pretending, or I’ll cut you down where you stand.”

Virgil could feel his body buzzing with adrenaline, his clenched fists wet with blood where his claws were piercing his own palm, but he clenched his jaw and held firm.

The slayer was going to kill him regardless. Virgil wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of rewriting his time spent with DW and Harley into some twisted plot.

The slayer’s hand dropped down to his sword, and Virgil swallowed thickly, but before a single move could be made, there was an obnoxious fluttering of wings right next to his head.

Virgil whipped his head around, startled, only to receive a faceful of feathers and one disgruntled peck to the nose.

“Bastard! Fiend!” a familiar, raspy voice cried right into his ear.

Virgil stared at the bundle of fluff that was irritably settling back onto his shoulder. It was unmistakably the bedraggled young crow that followed Roman around.

He started to reach a finger up to pet her on automatic, brain still struggling to catch up with what her presence meant, only to freeze at the feeling of sun-hot metal at his throat.

The slayer had crossed half the clearing in a heartbeat, and now stood with his sword one twitch away from sweeping right through Virgil’s neck.

His expression was a stone mask of neutrality, but he couldn’t hide the way his face had drained of color.

“Return the bird.” A monotone demand. A friend of Roman's, then?

Virgil slid his gaze back over to the crow. (What had her name been again? Something ridiculous.) He jostled his shoulder slightly, figuring that would disturb her enough to warrant a departure.

The crow continued to cling onto her perch stubbornly, sharp little talons digging into his cloak. He grimaced, hoping it wouldn’t tear.

“The bird. Now.”

Virgil shot the slayer an irritated look, wiggling his shoulder harder in clear demonstration of his effort.

The slayer didn’t seem remotely appeased.

What was it about Virgil that made people think he was into murdering birds? Was this some demon trend he’d remained blissfully unaware of?

The blade pressed forward slightly, singing through a layer of skin, and Virgil felt his general frustration with the situation solidify into petty spite.

He slapped the blade away, ignoring the piercing burn on his hand and the shallow gouge in his neck alike to jump back and lift a hand to the crow, prompting the slayer to freeze mid-pursuit.

Virgil curled his finger in so the claw wasn’t facing outward and delicately ruffled the downy patch of fluff on the crow’s chest.

“Bird is my friend now,” he signed, and flipped the slayer off for good measure.

“Rapscallion!” the crow added vehemently. Virgil chose to interpret that as agreement, despite the fact that she followed it up by nipping his ear.

The slayer stared at him with a peculiar expression, knuckles white around the hilt of his sword. He exhaled slowly. “What do you want. In exchange for the bird.”

What part of being designated tree-adjacent by a barely-fledged crow translated to ‘holding innocent birds hostage’ to this guy? Virgil was literally the only one being held against his will here!

Well. There was an idea.

“Let me go,” Virgil signed, pointing at the freshly planted wisteria sapling. “Leave me alone.”

The slayer took a long, deep breath. “No. I won’t allow you to roam free and hurt more people.”

“Who have I hurt?” Virgil challenged, crossing his arms.

There was a certain sense of security that came with having an apparently-beloved crow sitting on his shoulder, protecting him from spontaneous beheadings by being dangerously close to his neck.

“I don’t know the specifics.” The slayer’s entire body was rigid with tension. “But I know it was someone. You’re a demon, and a remarkably keen one at that. No matter how well you pretend now, there was a time when you devoured the innocent.”

Virgil flinched despite himself, because the slayer was right. Even if he hadn’t actually done anything in the end, it wasn’t on his own merit. Only Thomas’s presence had pulled him from that feral mindset, kept him from desecrating their parents bodies in an unforgivable way. He’d been lucky.

“I don’t kill humans. I’m helping people,” he signed. “I’m a monster, but I won’t hurt anyone.”

“Your word means nothing,” the slayer said firmly.

Virgil rolled his eyes, letting a low hiss escape from between his clenched teeth. “Then what do you want?” he signed.

“There’s nothing you can give me to earn your freedom,” the slayer answered curtly, eyes barely visible past his lenses. “The only reason you’re not already ash is because there’s still information that can be gleaned from you. Abnormal cases are always the most interesting to unravel.”

Wow! That was about as far from a reassuring answer as a statement could get. Virgil was almost impressed.

“In fact,” the slayer continued, “if my estimations are correct, I should get a baseline for your vulnerability to slow-acting wisteria toxin within the next thirty seconds.”

Virgil’s face scrunched up in confusion, and he followed the tilt of the slayer’s head down to look at his collarbones, where he could just barely see the tail end of the scratch he’d gotten earlier. The edges of the wound were a dark purple, and when he reached up with his fingers, he found it was hot to the touch.

Dizziness descended on him like a second, much more uncomfortable cloak, and Virgil had just enough time to remember the uninvited guest on his shoulder before his knees began to buckle.

He scooped the bird into his hand without hesitation, filled with a sudden panic that the little creature would cling to him even as he fell, and end up squashed.

There was a shout of alarm as his legs gave out completely, but he was too busy to make out any distinct words. He tucked the squawking crow against his chest, giving her a solid cushion on all sides to protect those delicate bird bones.

His vision blacked out entirely as he hit the ground, the vertigo so intense he could hardly tell up from down. His fingers had grown too numb to register much of anything, let alone the negligible weight of an undersized bundle of feathers.

Before he could begin to fear the worst, though, he heard the distinct sound of offended, raspy-voiced swearing, loud enough to be audible even over the blood rushing in his ears.

The little crow was fine.

Well, Virgil thought as he lost consciousness, that makes one of us.

[greenninjagal-blog]

Here Comes the Sun pt2

Whats this? An updating schedule? Who knew that was possible! If you missed Part One, you can find it [here]!

Summary: All Virgil has to do is get his kidnappee, Patton Hart, back to Chimera Tongue’s guildhall and then he wipe his hands clean of this whole unsavory mess. If Virgil wasn’t staring at Remus’s bike being engulfed in flames, he thinks he might laugh.

Word Count: 9184

QuickTaglist: @alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws 

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Chapter 2: Rainy

Patton wakes up when they get about an hour out of the city. Virgil’s decently surprised; usually nearly drowning puts people out for the rest of the day, rather than just a couple hours, but he can feel Patton’s breathing pick up and his struggling against the bonds and Virgil lets out a so very tired sigh.

“Could you not?” He asks, before Patton manages a movement that gets both of them to fall off the cycle when he’s driving at too-fast miles per hour on an already muddy road. “I really don’t want to be doing this anymore than you want to.”

“Where…?” Patton croaks sluggishly and tinglingly warm against Virgil’s chest. “Where are you taking me? Please, I don’t...”

Virgil sighs again. The road he was taking had water runoff ditches on the side of it to avoid flooding but the rain had flooded them anyway and was slowly yet alarmingly working on turning the dirt path into a mudslide. It was taking most of his concentration to make sure the mud doesn’t jam something in the inner workings of Remus’s bike and send both of them flying from their seats or that the tires don’t lose what little traction they have on the questionable ground and take them for a spin out neither of them wake up from. As such, he’s paying the price of this already with the speckles of mud being all the way up to his knees. 

He had spent the past thirty minutes daydreaming about the bath he was going to take once he handed off Patton to Guildmaster Clay. 

He hates having contaminants in his body. It made him feel like he was too solid, and solid things had a much harder time escaping danger than his liquid form. It was better with mud at least; a simple bath would help him separate the components of the dirt from his water and the minerals he needed to survive and then he’d be done.

Another rain sheet hit them-- well Virgil actually, considering that it came directly in his face and he was being careful to assure that any water that hit Patton and didn’t roll off immediately was being plucked away to keep him dry and comfortable and not sick because really Virgil was already ruining this guy’s life; No need to add pneumonia to that.

“Seriously?” Virgil mutters, shaking his bangs to the side so that he could still see where he’s going. He should have taken the goggles Remus waved at him, but he’d been in too much of a rush getting away from Remus teasing him about his crush to think about practicality. Per usual.

((And seriously that feels like it happened years ago instead of just three hours. What wouldn’t he give to be back in their room, trying not to turn into a puddle when Remus asks him if he’s dressing up nicely for a special someone with a voice like windchimes in a thunderstorm--))

“Who are you?” Patton asks and he sounds so very small, so tiny and scared and young. Despite knowing that the guy’s got at least three good years on Virgil, Virgil still contemplates dropping him right then and there and going off to the wilderness to die alone. Remus would never forgive him for that though, and Virgil would never forgive himself for it either. Not to mention Chimera Tongue doesn’t really do well with deserters, and the giant raincloud over his head was an ever present marker of where he was.

“Virgil,” he says, because he feels like he owes him that at least. A name for the person who’s ruining his life. Another rain sheet hits them both and Virgil sighs in slight irritation. “Sorry.”

Patton takes a shuddering breath that makes it sound like he’s just on the edge of sobbing. “It’s okay.” 

It's not. It’s really, really not. But Virgil bits on his tongue, and does his best to ignore the twisting ache in his neck from a touch that’s not there. He wishes that he could have taken a magicmobile, because that would have made his journey so much quicker and warmer and dryer-- or as dry as Virgil gets when he’s made of water-- but the combination of emotion based rainstorms and any type of vehicle is never a good one. Especially not when carrying precious cargo like Patton Hart, son of a multimillionaire. 

He was lucky enough to have well over a hundred hours of practice with driving magic cycles in the rain and that Remus was a decent enough friend to lend him his favorite bike for the job, which means a lot to Virgil because Remus has broken all the bones in someone else’s body for even looking at his bike. He was reasonably sure that as long as nothing unexpected happened, he and Patton would arrive safe and sound and Virgil could continue to feel guilty for everything from the comfort of his bathtub.

It’s only another hour to their destination. Just one hour. 

Unfortunately, that’s another hour for Virgil to continue to agonize over which part exactly of what he was doing he was going to hell for. 

“I’m Patton,” Patton says, his forehead pressing against Virgil’s collarbone, just enough that Virgil gets flashes of the guy biting into his neck right where the thing was, pleasanton’tPattonI’msorry-- “It’s...it’s very nice to meet you.”

“Please stop,” Virgil begs. “I am literally kidnapping you.”

“But you don’t want to be,” Patton points out and Virgil can’t say anything to that because it’s true. “And… and I think that means that we could be friends.”

Yeah, if they were in a literally other world and this was not happening and even then Virgil thinks the chances of them being successful friends would be slim. No one enjoys being in the rain all the time-- not even Remus, who gets overwhelmed by the sound and sensation of the rain hitting his metal scales for too long. Virgil, himself, wonders often how he doesn’t go insane from the constant noise in the background. The longest anyone has ever gone in his presence was the orphanage leader who very kindly kicked him out at fifteen and most likely reported to the police that he ran away of his own regard, if the police even bothered to ask. 

So the idea of being friends with a Star Burst member? Of being friends with the guy he’s kidnapping? Of being friends with Patton?

“Are all you Star Burst members like this?” Virgil mutters.

“Like what?”

Virgil does not say friendly, but it’s on the tip of his tongue. Instead he huffs and ignores the question, like a perfectly unfriendly person that Chimera Tongue mages were known for being. Lightning flickers in the distance again, lighting up a whole section of the sky with its dangerous arcs. Thunder rumbles low and loud and Patton lets out a squeak as he actually curls into Virgil.

“Are you….” Virgil says, startled and just barely avoiding turning himself into a puddle at the unexpectedness, which definitely would have killed his passenger and then him by extension from what Guildmaster Clay would do to him. “Afraid of storms?”

Patton makes another noise and Virgil feels his insides twist around because he really is the worst person in the world, isn’t he? Thunder rumbles again, startlingly close.

“Ah shit, sorry,” he says. “Really, I… fuck. Sorry. If I could stop it I would, I swear. I’m sorry.”

There’s a noise that sounds a bit like Patton is sniffling at him, half a watery, partially drowned laugh. “You’re the most considerate kidnapper ever, kiddo.”

“Yeah well,” Virgil sighs in defeat. He avoids a larger mud puddle on the path, and shifts around so that Patton is better suited in his arms. If it were up to him he’d make sure the guy ate a sandwich or something soon, because there’s no way it’s healthy for a guy his age to be so light.

It’s a boon, and also Virgil wishes that Patton would be maybe a little harder to kidnap. Maybe if he had put up even a little bit more of a fight, Virgil could say that he had slipped away and that Virgil shouldn’t have been sent to do something so important by himself. 

“It’s Virgil, right?” Patton says softly, almost to the point where it gets lost in the rain around them. “Why are you doing this? You don’t want to--”

“Rule three,” Virgil says on instinct, tasting the words before he remembers Oh yeah, this isn’t Remus. It just pops out and he can feel the confusion that ripples through his strangely compliant captive and Virgil mentally backpedals so hard he’s surprised they don’t end up back in Magnolia. “I just-- No, I’m not talking about this. Just shut up, please. Go back to sleep or something.”

Literally anything other than continuing to talk to Virgil. Please and thanks.

“You’re from Chimera Tongue, aren’t you?” Patton says which is the opposite of both shutting up and going back to sleep.

“What gave it away?” Virgil says in a deadpan, thunder rumbling at the guild name. He’d never been so upset about being identified by his guild before; like that being a mage from a guild that’s less than one job away from being an officially declared dark guild is all that Virgil is, all that he’s ever going to be, despite how hard he’s tried to be anything else.

He’d managed to get rid of the guild tattoo that he had originally gotten on his hand after endless hours of a feverish haze of anything please anything get rid of it I don’t want it after what they did to Remus-- until Remus had finally silently appeared behind him and dragged his arms out of the bucket of bleach he’d made. 

(None of it had mattered in the end. Remus still had his imprinted on his neck like a noose and Virgil had traded his for something far worse.)

“I thought so,” Patton says, softly, distantly, and Virgil feels him shift to get a better look over Virgil’s shoulder. “I feel a lot less bad about this now.”

“Wh--”

Before Virgil can make sense of what he’s saying, a flaming crater slams into the ground just yards in front of them. Virgil reflectively hits the break, jerking his wheels to the side far too hard to avoid the collision. Something catches-- Virgil’s not sure what it is-- but the next thing he knows is they’re skidding on the foot rests, with Virgil desperately trying to make sure that he’s not shredding Patton’s leg apart, and they both go flying wildly off the road.

Something else explodes behind them, right before they get to a safe stop and Virgil lets out a curse as both him and Patton are tossed from the bike: Patton going up into the air, and Virgil’s SE plug snapping and sending him tunneling face first directly into the closest mud puddle.

His head rings with the recollection of the noise and the dizziness that comes from his head dissociating suddenly. Mud sinks into his body, rain pelts into his body, but he forces himself to get up and make sure that Patton isn’t fucking dead after that bullshit--

And it’s only by the grace of Remus’s many, many, many surprise attacks that he manages to dodge the fist full of fire coming for his head. 

“Fuck!” He stumbles back, slipping on the unstable ground and landing on the ground several paces away from where the fire wielder lands himself, having fallen from the sky itself, spraying mud around them without a care. He instinctively pulls the water in the ground up and throws it at his attacker, dousing those flames and gaining a few feet between them for the time being, but when the man shakes off the attack, Virgil freezes.

His brain buzzes, pausing for a second too long, a second that he knows better than to take but he knows that form in the rain standing so boldly against the onslaught of water, that hairstyle that survived every downpour with determination that outmatched Virgil’s love for sleep, and that face shape that was just quirky enough to be unmistakable. He knows that build: how those muscles stretch and bunch and maintain themselves from a rigorous training regime that is demanded for the type of magic that deals death blows. Virgil knows that stance, that movement that’s so extra and unnecessary but hides how his weight shifts around.

Virgil has spent enough time around Remus to be able to recognize him even if he were blind.

Except that Remus has beady blood red eyes that always looked to be picking a fight for his amusement. Whoever this is, they have a bright emerald green, like something just on the right side of being poisonous. 

The person in front of Virgil looks like a shapeshifter who picked a version of Remus from years ago, before his piercing and his chains and his mustache, and aged him up. A clean shaven face, an unblemished tanned skin, a cream colored outfit that the rain had plastered to his skin; it looked all wrong on Remus’s body. Flames flicker along his arms, battling the rain as he stares down at Virgil with a self righteous glare that Remus never would have been caught dead wearing.

And, of course, the bright red falling star symbol on his chest declares him a proud Star Burst member. Which is… is not something Remus could be. Virgil hands curl into fists to keep them from shaking. 

There’s a whisper of something… a memory made hazy from wine… “Everyone leaves,” Remus had said once upon a time, and Virgil thinks he just found out who “everyone” is.

“That was not the plan!” Another voice yells from above them.

To Virgil’s other side, a figure swoops down from the sky, landing with Patton carefully caught in their arms and a certain grace in their movements that has Virgil’s breath being stolen from him: the large bat-like navy blue wings flick off the water, as the figure gently lets Patton down, kneels next to him, and cuts through the rope with claws of some demon creature, ignoring the way the edges of his already torn lab coat soak in the muddy puddles. On his waist are Patton’s hip packs filled with his cards, probably ready for battle. Patton throws his arms around him in a hug the moment he can.

“Do you have a single brain cell between your ears?!” The demon snarls at them. “I have met demonic slimes with more thought out plans than you!” 

“Sorry for the delay, Padre!” the Remus lookalike says ignoring the other while holding up a card that looks suspiciously like it’s from Patton’s deck. It’s crumbling in his hand though and Virgil feels something on his hip tingle-- a matching card that had somehow been stuffed in his waistband, and Virgil can’t help but curse his own stupidity. 

A calling card. He doesn’t know much about card magic-- practically nothing at all beyond the “throw cards and they do things”-- but as he plucks the card he hadn’t noticed tucked into his own waist band and watches both the cards dissolve simultaneously, he can imagine that Patton probably had activated it right before he passed out in Virgil’s arms and sent a distress signal right to the Star Burst members that should have been preoccupied with the fight at the guild hall, with Remus, with not them. 

Quick and Quiet.

Virgil has no clue how much that fucked up the guildmaster’s plans. He gets the feeling he’ll find out when he gets back to the guild hall. Painfully. 

“Good call on the card, Pat,” The lookalike says, “I can’t smell this guy with all the rain dampening his scent. Almost missed him entirely.”

“It’s okay,” Patton says, rubbing his wrists and reaching for his cards. “I knew you guys would come for me!”

That’s sweet. Virgil thinks he’s getting cavities from this exchange, which by the way he doesn’t get dental in his guild membership. He’s kidnapping a guy and he isn’t even getting dental insurance from it! And whatever mystic entities are out there know that Remus needs dental.

If Virgil wasn’t staring at Remus’s bike being engulfed in flames, he thinks he might laugh. 

((He doesn’t get auto insurance either.))

“That wasn’t mine,” he says. “Remus is going to fucking kill me. And then Clay will kill me. And then Remus again.”

“You! Fiend!” The Remus lookalike yells as if he wasn’t responsible for actually signing Virgil’s death warrant or he was just oblivious to it. “Just what did you want with our courageous card-carrying compatriot?! Answer me!” 

Virgil staggers to his feet again, feeling so tired and a decent amount of rage. The rain feels a bit like magic bullets stopping just short of tearing through the surface tension of his skin, which seems completely unfair because he's the one making them.

“That wasn’t my bike, you asshole!”

“You were kidnapping our friend,” the other one says, so matter-of-fact that Virgil wants to punch him too. “I’m sure you understand it was collateral.”

Virgil motions to the flames that were persisting through his rain. “You could have killed both of us!”

“You are more durable than I thought you were,” the lookalike admits. “Not even a scratch on you? A bruise?”

“Roman!” Patton yells, scandalized.

Virgil’s fingers curl so tightly in his gloves that he feels the material creak. Roman. Remus mentioned him one time exactly; a brother, although Virgil had assumed he was way older or way younger and absolutely not 100% sharing his same fucking face. Somehow that makes him angrier. 

“I really didn't want to fight before--” He starts.

“I wouldn’t suspect you’d want to either,” the guy with the wings cuts in, flexing his jet black claws, and showing off hints of his guild mark on his tongue of all things. “You’d be going against three Star Burst’s most powerful Mages who have been training as a team since last year. Statistically, your chances of winning, much less winning without injury are close to zero. I’d suggest you come peacefully and answer our questions.”

“Oh the most powerful, huh?” Virgil echoes unimpressed, thunder booming behind him. “You couldn’t find one of those powerful ways to stop us without destroying our bike?!” 

The rain pours down on the fire but between the mud and the snapped SE cord and probably a host of other problems, he does not think that it's going to get back up again, much less drive them the rest of the way to the guild hall. His stomach churns thinking of all the hours that he spent watching Remus work on it, practically building it from scrap even though he could have bought one. If he hadn’t mentioned once that he got motion sick on regular bikes, Virgil would have assumed he was acting more insane than normal.

“Hey, Kidnapping Kyle--” 

“His name is Virgil,” Patton offers, interrupting his friend. “He’s a member of Chimera’s Tongue.”

Virgil is skilled enough at reading Remus’s expressions to see the way that fury breaks out across Roman’s face. 

“You!” He says which is a lot more upset than it was when he first found Virgil kidnapping his friend. Virgil is not being paid enough for this; he’s not being paid at all, actually, and that’s the bad part. 

He literally kidnapped someone not even for profit which is basically kidnapping for fun and he ruined Remus’s most prized possession in one go and holy shit, he’s going to hell.

“First our guild hall!” Roman growls, “Then Thomas! And somehow you roped Remus into all--”

"Remus?" Virgil cuts in, nine tenths furious and one tenth amazed at his audacity to bring up the name of his apparently twin sibling like he himself isn’t one of Remus most painful things to talk about. Lighting strikes a mountain in the distance, and the thunder rumbles loud enough for Patton to yelp again and step close to his winged friend.

"First of all, Remus doesn't need my help to do shit,” Virgil says. "He got me into this mess."

((If closes his eyes he’ll see the red lines twisting around Remus’s forearms, the way the ink floods between his scales mapping out Remus’s body like Remus wasn’t screaming and cursing the whole time, the way the magic in the room turned dark and ominous and Virgil had been too scared and frozen and horrified to do anything but watch as Greed and Guildmaster Clay laughed--))

Virgil brushes the memory aside. “And second of all, don't fucking talk like you know him!"

Roman shifts on his feet, his expression so simply un-Remuslike; there's anger where Remus merely would have laughed, fury where Remus would have been delighted for a verbal spar. Virgil isn't used to the twisting in his guts at the idea of Remus hating him as openly as this clone seems to and his own body thrumms with the urge to bash his face in until he no longer looks like Virgil's best friend.

“He’s my brother!” The guy hisses, like that is supposed to prove some mystical point to Virgil and instead Virgil feels his magic twist and warp and bubble in his soul threatening to burst out and drown him for daring to say that. 

Brother? Brother? Where was he when Remus was wandering around the country alone and miserable? Where was he when Remus was being run out of towns even after he helped them? Where was he when Remus was clawing his arms screaming so hard he activated his dragon force for the first time and--

“What happened to Thomas?” Patton asks, derailing Virgil’s anger for the second.

“Janus is looking after him,” the winged guy says. “It appears that the attack on our guild hall was a provocation to get us to attack their guild hall where a trap was set up by what I believe is a null-magic user--”

It’s worse hearing someone else talk about them, Virgil decides. Even as furious as he is, he barely resists the urge to flinch at the mention of one of Shadow Force, Guildmaster Clay’s handpicked personal minions, each disgustingly more immoral than the last with only one notable exception. Individually each of them could probably obliterate three cities without breaking a sweat; when they were united together they were an army fit to take over the country. It was just a matter of time before the Guildmaster got bored enough that he gave the order to do so.

Virgil’s own throat and lungs still ache from his last meeting with them present, where his limbs were tingling, where there was a hand on his collar bone, where there was painpainpain and orange flooding his vision. Even now the rains were still just a tad more acidic than this region was known for, though Virgil didn’t think anyone other than Remus and his sensitive nose would ever notice. 

He knew that the guildmaster was doing shit-- but to nullify Thomas? Another guildmaster? One of the other Top Ten? Granted Guildmaster Clay is only the Ninth, compared to Thomas’s Tenth, but the sheer gall…. The other things he can blame on Remus and Virgil, saying that they were acting out and were going to be punished accordingly, but attacking Thomas and physically pushing him off the Ranking List….That’s a declaration of War. Virgil can’t quite get the courage to imagine how the face he’s grown up idealizing in the magazines would look dying from a magic stealing sickness that Envy liked to flaunt. It’s bad, he knows that much. Very bad.

The Magic Council was going to be all over this, if they weren’t already. Virgil doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

“--Thomas is okay. Janus is looking over him,” the Star Burst member continues, rolling back the sleeves on his rain soaked lab coat. “Just weak. But should his condition change…” 

He turns his gaze on Virgil and his eyes are black with yellow irises that scream something inhuman. He takes a step forward and his body morphs along with him, running white streaks through his raven hair and transforming his legs into scaled onyx hind legs with thick, sharpened claws to match his hands. A tail sprouts from his backside, pitched at the end like a sharpened dagger and his bat-like wings fan out like an impressively terrifying vision from every nightmare Virgil is going to have from now on.

“Logan,” Patton says, sounding slightly chiding as he shifts in his too big rain jacket. “Virgil already said he doesn’t want to fight, right? There’s no need for that, if he just comes willingly.”

Virgil takes a step back, watching them closely, and feeling rather claustrophobic for someone outside in the middle of nowhere with the rain pouring down on them. With Remus’s brother on one side and Patton and the winged guy on another he can’t get them all in one quick attack, which means likely it will break into a fight.

Virgil finds himself wishing Remus was there with him, because Remus always has his back when it comes to defense. He’s good at one-on-one fights, nearly undefeatable when it comes to him and one other, but team battles are a whole other story. 

“Look,” Virgil says, because he’s cold, and tired, and wants a bath and if this drags out for too long he’s not going to have the energy to get Patton to the guild hall, much less survive whatever shitstorm Remus will cook up in response to Virgil coming back without his bike and whatever punishment Clay will mandate for failing the quick and quiet order. “It’s just a job--”

“It doesn’t matter!” Roman says. “Whatever dastardly plans you have for him cease this instant! We won’t let you get away with this mockery on the good Sta--”

“Wow, I wonder if you had that protectiveness over Remus. How long does that last exactly?” Virgil asks, because he just can’t help himself. 

“What?”

“I mean,” Virgil asks deceptively innocently, “Do your friends know you like to abandon people when they need you?”

Oranges and reds explode over the guy’s hair and shoulders. “How dare--!”

“It’s not my fault you have a record. So are you going to get out of my way and let me do my job?”

The flames on the guy’s arms splutter, “NO! That was kidnapping! It’s illegal! I don’t--!!”

Virgil yawns and stretches back. “Fine, fine, fine.” He holds up his hands.

“Really? You’re giving up? Just….like that…?” Remus’s brother says, dropping out of his fighting stance. “Well I guess we are rather intimidating together. That’s why you had to go after our dearest Pat when he was alone, wasn’t it, you scoundrel--!”

He takes a triumphant step forward, completely ignoring the way that both his companions are telling him to wait hold on Roman he’s not... and really in Virgil’s honest opinion if someone is that stupid, they deserve it.

“Water Slicer!” Virgil yells, throwing his arms at the guy.

“ROMAN!” Patton and the other guy, Logan, yell at the same time as Virgil’s magic circles appear at his palms sending the familiar pressurized disks of water through the air. Roman meets them both with his own flames, barely-- which is impressive Virgil will give him that-- but even then Virgil has practiced breaking through Remus metal scales enough times for them to sweep through the flames like they’re nothing. Roman lets out a string of swears as the disks carve up his arm and the other catches his side. The next second Virgil is slamming his foot into Roman’s abdomen and stealing whatever breath he has for the moment as he hits the ground. 

The rain pelts down from the grumbling sky. Virgil has just enough time to twist his body before Logan comes careening through him, letting out a surprised yelp when Virgil’s liquid form doesn’t provide any hold for him. Virgil reforms himself a few feet behind where Logan lands claws first in the mud and slams his palms together.

 “Water Nebula!” 

The indigo glow from under Logan’s claws is the only warning he gets before two jet streams explode from the ground and warp around him in a helix design that hits him with the force of an oncoming bullet train. Logan goes flying into the air in a move that probably would have killed a lesser guy. At the very least he’d be nursing some broken ribs and wouldn’t be in any shape to retaliate on Virgil, demon form or not.

“Tower!” Patton yells, slamming one of his cards to the mud and Virgil doesn’t even have a second to process what that means before the ground under him bursts upwards and Virgil finds himself weightless in the worst way.

Patton holds another two cards in his hands, both of them glowing with a bright blue mystical light and he launches them at Virgil with a speed and accuracy that absolutely is surprising for a rich kid like him. Virgil flips in the air, avoiding both of them by mere inches and landing in a back handspring that sends jolts of pain all the way up his arms and he thinks for a second he’s lucky he didn’t splatter apart like a raindrop into the muddy ground.

“Water Ca--” 

“Fire Dragon Claw!” Roman snarls, appearing out of the blindside to Virgil’s left with a fancy flaming roundhouse kick. Virgil just barely manages to roll out of the way, hissing as he feels the sizzling along his skin where his body evaporates. He jumps back, feeling the lightning crackle overhead with his panic.

Dragon Slayer, his brain whispers, because how many times he had heard similar calls from Remus? How many times had he’d seen those familiar red magic circles written in green right before Remus put a metal rod through his chest? 

Who the hell did this guy think he was?

“Water Cane!” Virgil sneers, transforming his arm into a whip that Roman barely dives out of the way of, landing on his cut side and hissing in pain. Mud paints the sides of his white costume. Virgil knows that he shouldn’t feel vindicated by it-- by any of this-- but the lost look in Remus’s eyes comes back to his mind and he feels a smile etch into his face and sets his feet again. 

Logan flutters overhead, his wings apparently not enjoying the rain anymore than his ribs enjoyed Virgil’s last attack if the way he’s holding his side says anything. “His body is made of water. Fascinating. Can you retain any shape like that?”  

“What?” Virgil says because who just stops to chat in the middle of a fight? What tactic is this supposed to be? “I mean--”

A wave of rain hits all of them, pelting through the air with a vengeance that leaves even Virgil hissing out curses at when part of his arm de-solidifies against the sudden ambush. Logan seems to find it fascinating. 

“Do you not have control over the storm?” Logan asks. “The structural pattern suggests that--”

“Teach!” Roman says, stressing the name as if this is a problem they have constantly in battles and Virgil doesn’t know what the fuck to make of that. “Less science, more fighting!” 

“The amount of power that he has at his disposal is unheard of!” Logan says, rather excitedly in a way that makes Virgil's insides twist with an emotion somewhere between utter terror and unbridled fury. “And it appears that he is not expressly attempting to manifest it! Imagine! In a few more years he could be well on his way to the Top Ten Most Powerful Mages, providing he practices a little harder--"

Lightning snaps through the air and it’s only by the luck of Logan’s own magic--whatever that is--that he manages to redirect it towards the ground, away from all of them, but the force of the impact sends chucks of the earth in the air twice Patton’s own height. Thunder booms and the rains howl in a twisted way that has Logan struggling to not be torn apart.

“Logan!” Roman and Patton yell at the same time.

“Real brave words for the guy pretending to be a kite in the middle of a thunderstorm,” Virgil says between gritted teeth, watching him plummet several feet and recover --barely-- as the air fronts fight against him.

“Ah,” Logan says, swiping his hair from in front of his eyes, hovering just above the ground to Roman’s left, “I appeared to have angered him. Although I don’t see how...”

“Yeah, brilliant deduction, Doctor Don’t-Know,” Virgil sneers. Thunder booms again, and the rain sweeps through the area as a force all by itself, flooding over Roman and his pitiful next wave of flames. Behind him the remains of Remus’s bike sizzle and cool and the last sparks of its fiery end are put out. “It’s all about practice, right? A little focus, and I could be great, huh? That’s all it takes to control the giant fucking thunderstorm over my head and no one else has ever pointed it out to me before! What a revolutionary concept! Water Nebula!” 

Roman and Logan dive away from each other, letting the attack erupt between them with a viciousness that Virgil doesn’t think he’s ever had. He can feel his own body bubbling, not to the point of self evaporation, but enough that it makes him feel lighter, slipperier, harder to catch and even harder to beat. The sky crackles dangerously and Virgil thinks his smile is reminiscent of Remus’s.

“The World!” Patton yells, surprising Virgil-- how did he forget Patton was there-- as matching blue magic circles appear under both Roman and Logan and matching blue lights appear in halos around all three of their heads. “Two of Cups!” A second ring in a deeper blue forms around Logan and Roman’s heads, and Virgil wonders if damaging merchandise just a little bit will win him points with Guildmaster Clay or get him killed.

“Oh yeah,” Roman says in response to something Virgil can’t hear, grinning, and shifting his stance. “I like that plan, Card King of my Heart.”

Virgil hisses, “Water Slicer!” 

“Fire Dragon Roar!” Roman bellows, like he’s been waiting to do it. The magic circle bursts forward from his mouth, the bright red symbols exploding with wicked flames in a wide berth undaunted by the flood, and paying no mind to Virgil’s attack. Virgil calls up the water on the ground to block it and the resulting steam is a dense cloud that fogs up his vision completely. Virgil flings an attack towards where Roman had been, but there’s nothing there anymore and Virgil feels his heart jump up to his throat again as he swings around trying to figure out where they went with nothing more than the sound of the thunderstorm and his beating heart in his ears.

The next second finds two pale blue cards cutting straight through the haze and sailing straight through Virgil’s left shoulder and his right knee. Virgil gasps, even though it doesn’t technically hurt; his water based body reforms almost as quickly as Patton cut it apart, but it keeps him in place and--

“Now Logan!” 

“Evil Orb!” 

Virgil looks up in time to see airborne Logan sending some sphere looking condensation of magic at him; a sphere of blues and purples and reds that twist and intertwine and look like some type of planet exploding right in his hands. Reflectively, Virgil hits the ground and forms his one defensive circle under his feet. The water from the puddles shoots upwards and around him as a shield. “Water Dome!”

The orb hits his shield with an explosion that breaks it and the force that knocks him straight into the mud with ringing ears. For a second he thinks that he’s back in the training hall at the guild and that Remus is standing over him laughing about having finally gotten a good hit in when Virgil wasn’t expecting him to. Virgil shakes his head, feeling the mud cake over his face.

“Reversed Nine of Wands!” Patton’s voice calls and Virgil braces for an attack that’s sure to follow the bright blue light, but all that he feels is tired. The world spins around him, growing hazy all of a sudden and his eyelids strain to keep themselves open. Virgil’s thoughts blitz off in dizzying directions and oh, it wasn’t a physical attack. 

In so many ways this is definitely worse. Virgil can handle the physical attacks, he can weather as many of them as he needs too, but his stamina… Virgil’s never been good at staying awake for long periods of time for any reason. The orphanage workers thought he was sick with the amount that he slept, but the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with him, the same way they couldn’t explain why it wouldn’t stop raining around him. 

He knows it’s a bad idea to fall asleep here, to let the Star Burst members win, to fail his mission so badly, but, god, does he really want to.

Really, really want to.

It was so cold, and he’s been tired since he woke up this morning and Guildmaster Glay called him into his study and sent him on this stupid mission. He’s been tired since before that too-- when he came back from his last job and had to hand over the portion he owed the guild, when he bumped into Envy and she had threatened to turn off his magic officially and forever, when he’d first stumbled into Chimera Tongue, half a step behind Remus and realizing that the stone castle Guild Hall will just make the chill of his rain perminate through the building.

He’s been exhausted since the start of this fight. He didn’t even want to do this in the first place. He just…

“Wow, look, a plan that actually worked,” Roman’s voice says somewhere beyond the daze Virgil feels that he’s floating in. “Where was that back at Chimera Tongue?”

“Apologies, remind me, which of us jumped into battle with another dragon slayer without warning and refused to listen to reason the entire time even as said other dragon slayer kicked your ass?” Logan retorts back.

Virgil let out a rather pathetic huff of laughter. He tries to roll over, to sit up, but even twitching his fingers makes darkness creep over his vision. The rain pours over him, each drop feeling like it’s plucking apart his skin, rippling deep through his organs until Virgil forgets that he’s human at all.

“Language, guys,” Patton says warningly. “My suit cards aren’t as powerful as my Major Arcana. They only last a few minutes. I’m… actually not sure why it’s affecting him this much… Oh kiddo, you must have really not wanted to fight us!”

There’s a softness in his tone that makes Virgil kinda want to throttle him. For being nice, for being kind, for being stupid enough that he still had that soft edge when he looked at Virgil seeing far more than Virgil wants anyone to know about him. 

“It’s far more likely that he’s been expending a gratuitous amount of energy to keep the storm going,” Logan comments. 

“Alright, Wet Blanket,” Roman says and Virgil thinks that’s his boot in the corner of his vision. “Had enough yet? We can keep this up if you want, though you’re looking a little less than your turbulent, tap water self.”

“Fu...ck...off,” Virgil slurs. He kicks his legs towards him in a move that would have swept his feet away, but all it really does is flick mud pathetically on his already muddied boots.

“I’ve got another Fire Dragon Roar in me, Stormy Weather!” Roman says. “Don’t test me.”

“Roman!” Patton says. There's mud in his cheek, water droplets on his glasses that look like tears. “Virgil, I know you’re tired. It’s okay if you go to sleep. You fought really well, kiddo.” 

There’s a tingly feeling in Virgil’s chest, the same feeling he gets when Remus pulls him into hugs. The rain plays a nice rhythm on his head, a lovely little melody and it takes Virgil a moment to realize Patton is still speaking to him. “--you think you could tell us why you needed to kidnap me?”

“I was just…. told to get the heir,” Virgil mumbles, and his eyelids feel so heavy. He thinks that if he closes them he’ll wake up in his bed anyway, and this will have been all a shitty dream that Remus can laugh at him for.

Thunder rumbles in the distance causing Patton to freeze up.

“Heir?” Roman says. “What heir? Heir to what?”

Virgil squints at them through his rain soaked bangs, “The Hart Family...Patton Hart…?” 

Logan lands nearby wincing as his ribs complain, but by the time he walks over to the rest of them, his demonic form has shifted back to a human one, and he carefully holds his middle, ignoring the dribbles of blood from his nose. He pulls a pair of glasses from his wrecked lab coat and cleans them on the soaked fabric before putting them on for whatever good he thinks that will do.

“What’s this about the Hart Family?” He asks. 

Virgil lulls his head to the side so he’s staring right at Patton. “They don’t know?”

Roman and Logan turn to face Patton who wilts under their gaze, guiltily. The rain pours down on him, dancing on the waterproof coating of his coat that makes him appear smaller and more pathetic than he has any right to be. They’re talking, Virgil thinks, the buzz of the words twisting so far over his head he can’t possibly keep up.

He thinks about his bed, about a shower, about Remus, who was waiting for him to return so they can figure out their next step. He thinks about the safety of their room, the way it feels to be back to back with Remus and be invincible, about how Remus’s throat had gone raw from his own screaming to the point where he’d been quiet for a whole day, with shaking hands that kept scratching at his skin as if he could peel away the magic binding.

He thinks about that magazine that showed pictures of the inside of the Star Burst guild, warm and vibrant and welcoming. He thinks about how much Remus wanted to see it one day. He thinks about how he’s going to see it now if he doesn’t wake back up.

“Rule Four,” Virgil mumbles. “Rule Four, Rule fucking Four.”

He forces his eyes open and suddenly all he can see is how all three of those stupid Star Burst members are lined up in a triangle like bowling ball pins.

“Water Lock,” Virgil says and the magic circle appears under all three of their feet.

His own vision floods with black at the use of his magic, but it’s so, so worth it at the surprised gasps and the curse from the three of them before they’re trapped in his bubble. The rain pours down from the sky as Virgil finally manages to drag himself up a standing position, laughing the whole time and wondering how much longer that stupid card magic is going to effect him.

His entire body is covered in mud, making him sluggish and uncomfortable and solid. He’s never really understood how other mages worked with their entirely normal bodies, but he’s sure that this sucks and he hates it. His balance is strange, too, and standing up nearly causes his feet to slide from under him and it’s only the will power and the chant of Rule Four that keeps him upright. He groans, spitting out the taste of clay from his mouth and looking up at the large sphere of water trapping the three of them. 

“I’m…. slightly less sorry about it this time,” He tells them.

Which is probably a sign that he’s too far down this dark path and redemption is not going to be an option ever, but he thinks of Remus’s drunken empty eyes and he kinda accepts his fate now. He’d followed their dumb drunken rules for so long… and… and he wasn’t going to stop now. He wasn’t going to let these idiots be the ones to make him break them. Rule Four, Rule Four, Rule Four.

And if it makes him a terrible person….well no one ever expected anything else from the dreary rain witch, did they?

Roman seemed to be trying to call on his flames again, which seriously? Virgil had to give him props for trying; he thinks he sees a spark but the water puts it out immediately because-- surprise, surprise-- fire doesn’t beat water. Logan morphed into some type of water creature thing, but he was more concerned with the way that Patton had gone limp and was drowning than trying to get out. Not that it matters much; if the acidity of the water doesn’t start getting to him, Virgil knows he can take the guy with the broken ribs in a one-on-one battle afterwards. Roman let out another surge of power that was consumed by the water around him.

“Word of advice for the three of you,” Virgil says, sluggishly wiping the mud from his arms. “Don’t turn your back to an opponent. Remus is a particular fan of literal backstabbing, which you would know if you actually knew him.”

Thunder breaks through the sky.

“I’m sure he’s gonna be thrilled to hear all about how I’m going to leave your ass here in the mud, just like you left him behind however many years ago it is now. Jeez, and I thought I had a rough childhood. For someone who called me a fiend, I’ve gotta wonder what that makes you.” Virgil watches as Roman’s face contort with fury, pain, distress and he soaks it in because he might not know the exact details of anything but he knows that this Roman guy hurt Remus. And any chance to get back at him for it was worth it in Virgil’s book.

“In a roundabout way, you could even say it’s your damn fault for all of this, Roman,” Virgil says but the name sounds strange on his tongue. Like one of those times when Remus switched their mugs without him noticing and he downed straight beer instead of cider he was expecting. “If you had just managed to not fuck off by yourself then Remus wouldn’t have been so desperate to befriend anyone, not even the depressing little rain witch passing through town. Then he wouldn’t have done any of that stupid shit trying to make sure neither of us got thrown out on our asses again. Then I wouldn’t be kidnapping people for exactly none of the profit. So yeah, it's your fault for all of this.

“And you know what? Remus deserves better than you. I’m sure he’s figured it out by now, but you seem to be under the impression that you get to be everyone’s hero. Here’s your one warning Roman: get the hell out of Remus’s life. He doesn’t need or want you…..Are you still trying to fight it? Let it go, dude.” Virgil says, stretching slightly. “No one’s ever broken out of my--”

Roman’s eyes flash bright green and suddenly there’s an explosion of flames that engulfs his entire body and thrusts outwards in all directions. Virgil’s spell shatters like it’s nothing more than an inconvenience. 

Virgil stumbles back, cursing the flickers of pain inside of him and the shock of having his magic connection shot so easily and suddenly. Not even Remus had ever managed to break out of that move; only playing unconscious and attacking Virgil once he dropped it because there wasn’t supposed to be a way to stop it.

Roman stands up with flames burning in his hair, licking his arms and dancing between his legs with a passion. Along his back, stretching seven feet into the air were wings, bright red and humming with heat. He’s burning so brightly, so hotly, so dangerously that the raindrops can’t touch him at all, and his gaze is filled with bloodlust as he stares at Virgil, the faint etchings of red scales on his cheekbones where Remus’s metallic ones normally stood. 

“Logan,” Roman growls hoarsely as lightning crashes overhead striking the field not too far from their left and dousing them in a nightmarish lighting.

“He’s okay,” Logan calls as Patton coughs up water in his arms. “As am I. Although we both are...I believe the term is extremely pissed off.” 

Roman lets out another growl that is just barely human and lightning strikes again, thunder following so boomingly that Virgil swears it strikes them all deaf. It doesn’t matter because Roman is charging forward at him before it finishes and Virgil panics.

He throws out a water cane attack but most of it misses. The parts that hit sizzle and become gas before they even do any damage. Roman claws through his side which would have taken out all of his guts if it weren’t for that Virgil was made entirely from water.

The heat, though; Virgil lets out a scream as he feels the section of his liquid body tingle and evaporate. He stumbles back, barely avoiding the next swing from the Fire Dragon Slayer. The air fills with a mist that makes Virgil sick to think of. His hood falls off as he dives away from another punch and the rain feels a bit like hail coming down on him. His lungs scream for him to breathe, but he’s afraid if he stops long enough to inhale, Roman will evaporate him entirely. 

He doesn’t know what it’s like to be a gas and Virgil very much doesn’t want to find out.

“Water Cyclone!” He calls, shoving the attack at the other just to push him away before Roman manages to get a grip on his hair. The force knocks him back several feet, the mud preventing him from getting a solid stance against it at first, but somehow he breaks the new attack as well like some type of monster. 

“You look a little scared there, Raindrop,” Roman snarls.

“What the fuck are you made of?” Virgil asks. “Water Slicer!”

Roman throws a punch at the disks of water, and any other time Virgil would have laughed but the heat from his movements manages to deflect the water to the side where it carves into the nearby hill. Virgil backs up again hoping the downpour hides the way his hands are shaking. 

“Evil Explosion!” Logan yells and Virgil feels the attack slam into his other side, splattering his body apart like he’d thrown a whole cannonball at him. Virgil hits the ground gasping for air and choking on mud. It’s not hot, but it sure as hell hurts. It’s more out of desperation than conscious thought that he manages to roll over with his head pounding and his heart thrumping in his throat until he can’t breathe around it.

He feels solid. He feels heavy. His vision is teetering between blurry and too focused and his atoms feel like they’re being pulled apart.

“Tell me again about how all of this is my fault,” Roman growls. 

A boot slams onto his chest, knocking him back to the ground and pinning him in place. Roman radiates heat and Virgil lets out a pained gasp as his abdomen begins to boil. 

“Wait, please! I’m sorry,” he gasps, “I’m sorry! Please, don’t!”

Roman puts more weight on his chest, sneering down at him. “Give me one reason, you dishonorable downpour!��

“Please!” Virgil begs. “I didn’t want to, I don’t-- I can’t--!”

I don’t wanna die. He thinks hysterically. I don’t wanna die and leave Remus all alone again, please I’m sorry, please don’t make me leave him, not like this, Rule Four, Rule Four, Rule--

“Roman, wait,” Logan says, “His neck.”

Virgil whimpers as the heat flares again, sending painful tingles through his chest like lightning crackling through him, ohgodpleasenonotagain. His body bubbles and boils and the ringing in his head is too loud for him to focus long enough to cool his internal temperature against it.

“Hey, Shameless Showers,” Roman demands. “What’s up with the orange tattoo? That’s not your Guildmark.”

Virgil’s breath catches in his throat, feeling the phantom hand clamping down on his neck, his own hand frantically reaching up to the area that’s normally covered by his hood like he can make them pretend like they’d never seen it at all. The orange mark-- the bubble under his watery skin that looks like absolutely nothing until Virgil’s trying to hide it and someone realizes that it looks like a handprint-- He thinks that a laugh bubbles up through his lips, hysterical and half-crazed and absolutely terrified.

“It’s not a tattoo,” Logan says. “It appears to be something suspended in the solution of his body--”

“Oh, kiddo!” Patton rasps, looking worried despite the fact that Virgil has tried to drown him twice. “That looks like it hurts!”

Virgil wants to scream. Lightning crackles in the sky, a bolt striking down not ten feet from them and Patton squeaks and clings to Logan’s arm. The rain itself pummels the ground like it has a grudge against it. But Roman presses down on his chest flaring with heat to keep him from trying anything.

“That can’t be healthy,” Logan says. “I imagine that someone with your form would be extremely susceptible to--”

And Virgil can’t take that. Absolutely not. He knows, okay? He knows. And the reason why he hasn’t told anyone is because if someone else tells him that something like this will kill him, that will make it real. It will make it a ticking time bomb in his body, a death sentence, a proof that Virgil is living on borrowed time already and that at any moment he’s going to--

Virgil can’t leave Remus. He can’t-- He--

His body disassociates without him even telling it to, slipping out from under Roman’s startled boot and throwing itself a good distance down the road, before reforming the best it can with the rain feeling like spears going straight through him. Even now, putting himself back together, that orange blob sits in his body, as much part of him as the water and he can’t get rid of it. 

He stumbles back another several steps as the Star Burst members whip around. Roman’s flames crackle along his biceps in mini explosions that turn the droplets in the air to steam and Virgil sprints. 

Job be damned. 

He pulls up the hood of his poncho to hide the orange contaminant the best he can and hopes desperately that the three don’t bother coming after him while the rain hits his face until he can’t tell them from his tears.

[Next Chapter]

[reverse-moon]

@starshard17 and I made a new kid for the A/D AU

My art of her

@starshard17's art of her

Both adorable as hell.

Here's her Gacha Club vers:

B a b y

[stillebesat]

Tiny Demon AU

Roman leaned more heavily into the palm of his hand, his eyes half open as he tried to listen to his woodshop teacher -known as “Slo-Mo Nate” among the less patient students such as himself- as he plodded through yet another lecture on triangles being the strongest shape in construction yadda yadda--Roman had heard it all a million and a half times before. 

He fought back a yawn, the pencil he’d had ready to take ‘real’ notes moving in lazy circles halfway up the page as he waited for Slo-Mo Nate to wind down. 

  Just because Roman preferred using other shapes in his construction projects didn’t mean he wasn’t aware how useful triangles were. He flicked his eyes to the ticking clock then back to the Teach. Would it be too much to raise his hand and interrupt to ask if he could go out to the shop already? Probably. 

ProcrastiNATion loved to bore his students to death for the first twenty minutes before finally letting them loose into his shop to work on their senior projects . 

Roman exhaled, scratching darker lines haphazardly through the interconnecting circles he’d doodled.  “Olvida la diversión trae la lógica.”  He muttered, glancing up as a couple of chairs in front of him shifted. Were they finally allowed to lea--

Nope. 

Nobody was getting up.

He resisted the urge to bang his head on the desk. Just a couple of his fellow peers as antsy to get out into the shop as he was apparently.  

Unfortunately the Bore-i-Nator was still jabbering on about his beloved triangles and--Roman looked back down to his doodle and jumped, nearly falling out of his chair while a tiny horned figure glowered up at him from the middle of the symbol he’d drawn. 

No. Way. Roman blinked, shaking his head. He’d dozed off. He was imagining it--nope. 

Tiny demon dude was still there. 

“Mira al idiota humano” The tiny voice growled up at him, crossing his arms. 

“Perdoname?!” Roman hissed. “I’m not an idiot!” 

“Ah. Ingles.” The figure said, a tiny spiked tail flicking in contempt. “Of course, I should have known.” 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” “Exactly what the words connotate. Do you not read! The size of the summoning circle is specified as no more and no less than six FEET in diameter and this--” He gestured to the circle “Flimsy excuse of an ecliptic is a paltry two inches!”