#eotp2022

[intrulogicalweek]

Shhh, Edu, we're reading. Catch us later for some cute little thing for the post…

Echoes of the Past - Day 31

Prompt: “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”

CW: None that I know of

As the cart hit another pothole, Roman groaned, trying to shift his position, a feat that was quite difficult with his hands bound behind his back. He wasn't sure how Logan was managing to put up with this bumpy ride but he kept himself upright as if there were a monument to poise and stability. They hit another bump and Roman fell forward, letting out a groan. "By all the gods, was this really necessary?" He shot Logan a look, he was part of the reason that they were in this situation. Though, Roman couldn't really blame him.

"My liege, please calm yourself." He had his eyes closed, sitting against the wall of the wagon as if he were completely unbothered by their situation. It was honestly a bit frustrating seeing Logan like this. How did he handle everything with such decorum? 

"Calm myself? Calm myself? How can I be calm when we are entering a kingdom of thieves and miscreants?!" Maybe that was a little bit of an exaggeration, but it wasn't a complete lie. Sartia wasn't a kingdom known for it's social programs and care facilities, unlike his own kingdom. They were know for art work that was graphic and war. Surprisingly though, they didn't often go to war. Sartia simply had a large army that kept most people away. Roman, however, would never actually say anything good about Sartia, not if he could help it.

Logan raised his eyebrow, "There are far worse places we could be heading to," and Logan must have wanted to appeal to his sense of dramatics because the next words out of his mouth were very much unlike him, "hell for example."

Roman wasn't going to take the bait. He shot Logan an angry and frustrated look. "Hell is empty Logan, all of the demons are here."

The other man simply rolled his eyes and shook his head, not bothering to feed into the dramatics any further. It was a good attempt on his part though. Roman, however, didn't like being ignored and thus continued to whine and lament as their cart got closer to the castle. Was he doing all of this just to annoy Logan? Maybe a little bit. Would he ever admit that? Absolutely not.

Roman watched as the city continued to go by, growing more and more dense as they got closer to the castle. He really didn't like the look of the people here, but they weren't his subjects and no one was going to try anything while they were in custody. They were being transported directly to the king and everyone would be able to see that by the color of their wagon and the guards surrounding them. If it weren't for the fact that they were bound, it would have been a pleasant ride.

“I don’t know how you can continue to be calm,” Roman said, a bit quieter this time as he looked over at Logan. “It’s like you are completely unfazed.” Even if Logan wasn't afraid, which honestly neither of them were, they were still going to be meeting the king of Sartia, and for Logan, that should have been a big deal.

“I have a full understanding of what we are getting ourselves into, I simply don’t see a need to waist my energy, like you have been doing. Your dramatics and frivolity will get us no where.” Roman watched Logan carefully, trying to see if his expression would betray anything.

It didn't, and he pouted, sinking down as Logan finally looked out the back of their ride. “Well excuse me for being expressive.” Though, Roman finally saw it, the slight quirk of Logan's smile. He wasn't sure if as they got closer, Logan was finally getting into the spirt, or if he was just excited he had won.

The cart lurched to a halt as it entered the gate, and Roman dared to peak his head out, trying to get a better look. Instead of a sweeping view of the castle grounds he was greeted with a face that just about mirrored his own, save for a cartoonish mustache. They were finally here.

“Hiya there bro bro, did you like my valet?”

“Was it really necessary to tie us up!?” He asked, the demand to be untied not necessarily needing to be said out loud.

“Well of course, I wanted you to be protected.” Remus laughed and Logan stood up, walking past Roman, and handing Remus a length of rope. He must have untied himself somehow because Roman watch him get tied up. He should have known. Logan was normally pretty good about getting himself out of situations. He just wished Logan would have had the curtesy to untie him as well.

“You should instruct your men on how to tie a proper knot, I’m aware you know better.” 

Remus cackled, eyes following Logan as he walked up to the castle. It was always disgusting to see the two of them together. Not in an actual way, but in the way it was for any sibling so see their brother flirt.

Roman gagged. “If you two are going to act like that every time we come I’m going to stop bringing him.

“Don’t be like that… I mean, unless you finally want to let me keep him. I could use a royal advisor like him.”

“Finders keepers,” Roman stated as his brother finally untied him. “Also, Logan is far too uptight to live in your den of soldiers and demons.”

“Shows how much you actually know about him.” Remus looked back to where Logan disappeared. 

“Why did it seem so urgent that we come to you? You acted as if it were life and death.”

“It is,” Remus said, pulling a small box out of his coat and showing it to Roman who immediately knew exactly what it was. "I think I might actually steal your adviser this time."

Roman's eyes sparkled, “really?!” He asked both excited and surprised, completely forgetting his anger over his brother haven tied him up. 

“Yep,” Remus said. “Now I just have to wait for the right time, and hope he says yes.”

“He will,” Roman said with utter confidence, “I might have teased him about not being excited to come, but I could see his nervous fidgeting, and the way he always get more and more excited as we get closer. Logan doesn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve, but I know him, and he loves you.” Roman looked down at the bracelet that would mark Logan as engaged to a king, it was beautiful, but simple, something his friend would appreciate.

“Thanks,” Remus muttered, putting the box back in his coat. The unspoken nervousness still hung in the air and Remus seemed intent to get rid of it. "Now let’s go spar, this conversation has been far too mushy for my taste.” He was going to have to learn to deal with that if he was planning on becoming married.

Roman decided not to call him on it, giving his brother a break just this once. He laughed, “loser cooks,” and they both ran off to the training field. He was going to miss Logan, but he was so happy for his brother, and his best friend.

@simplestoryteller @fantasticfangirl21 @joylessnightsky @melaniidarling @tsshipmonth2020

[candied-peach]

ao3: “like you would know” rating: T warnings: prinxiety, hanahaki disease, blood, remus :p genre: fluff and humor description:  Roman has a secret. Unfortunately for him, his brother knows it. ( day 11: “I tried not to let these things affect me. They affected me quickly and obviously.” — Richard Laymon @tsshipmonth2020 )

"You realize it's obvious that you like him, right?" Remus asks. Roman sputters, his face burning hectic red.

"I have no idea what you mean," Roman insists, haughty.

"I literally just caught you staring at Virgil's ass," Remus points out. Roman's blush intensifies.

"Shut up," Roman hisses. "He'll hear you."

"Will he?" Remus asks in interest. "I can say it louder. HEY V-" Roman claps his hand over his brother's mouth, cringing when Remus licks the palm of his hand.

"I probably have a disease now," Roman mutters, wiping his hand on the fabric of his pants and dragging Remus to the dubious safety of his room. At least there, he can soundproof the damn thing, no matter what Remus chooses to shout about Roman's feelings for Virgil. Asshole.

"I know something else, too," Remus singsongs, sitting on Roman's bed and kicking up his shoes. Roman cringes. He's going to have to do so much laundry later.

"What?" Roman asks. "And get your shoes off the furniture."

"Do you really want my bare feet on your bed?" Remus asks.

"...No," Roman says. Remus cackles in delight.

"You gonna tell your big bro that you've been coughing up flower petals?" Remus asks smugly.

"You're my little brother," Roman corrects automatically, then flushes as red as his sash. "What?"

"Looked in your garbage," Remus says, sticking a hand in his pocket and pulling out a handful of bloody purple flower petals. Some of them are still stuck together. Roman scrunches his nose in disgust.

"Stay out of my trash," he says. "And that means nothing, I'm sure. A mere aberration."

"Or it means that you have something you won't tell Virgil because you're an idiot, and it's going to kill you," Remus says bluntly. "And as much as I'd like to be the only Creativity around here, I'd rather do it like Scar and Mufasa you to death, not watch you do it to yourself because you're too much of a coward to open your mouth and vomit up those juicy, juicy feelings for old Virgey."

"Don't say juicy in that context," Roman says. "And that- you don't understand, I don't want to upset Virgil, what if my feelings aren't returned?"

"Then you'll come back here, cry on my shoulder, go through a dozen pints of ice cream, and sing all the sad Disney songs you know," Remus says impatiently. "It's easy. You just talk. I do it all the time!"

Roman swallows. His throat aches, phantom pains from the flowers slowly engulfing his lungs stabbing the delicate tissues. Remus made it sound so easy. Maybe it was easy when you were a literal trash rat who spouted all your feelings at the top of your lungs, but that- that had never been Roman. Dramatic gestures, of course, but this... This is too important.

"Virgil might surprise you, you know," Remus says, surprisingly serious. "Even if he doesn't reciprocate your feelings. It's better than dying, isn't it? Maybe it's not. Hey, can you imagine lying under a garbage truck while-"

"No," Roman interrupts his brother hastily. "No, I can't. I don't even know what to say."

"It's easy," Remus says. "Here, lemme get Virgil so you can practice on the real deal."

"Wait, no-" Roman says, alarmed, but before he can do anything, Remus has disappeared and Virgil stands, blinking and confused, in his place.

"Roman?" Virgil asks hesitantly. "What is Remus up to?"

"Being an idiot," Roman mutters. "I don't know. I- I'm sorry. You can go. This is a dumb idea, I shouldn't-" He rambles, and as he rambles, he can feel the thorns sink in deeper. He coughs, broken and wet, and feels flower petals fill his mouth.

"Are you okay?" Virgil asks, peering at his suddenly rapidly paling face. "I uh, I can get Patton and Logan, um-"

"I'm fine," Roman insists, spitting the petals out as discreetly as he can into one hand. "I simply..." He sighs. Maybe Remus is right, loathe as he is to admit it.

"Remus thinks that I should tell you something," Roman manages to grit out. "I uh...well. I'm in love with you," he blurts out, like yanking off a band-aid. Virgil blinks at him.

"I'm sorry," Roman says, his heart sinking even as the flowers slowly start to disappear. "I shouldn't-"

"You're an idiot, Princey," Virgil says, flinging himself at Roman and burying his face in Roman's very baffled shoulder. "I've loved you for months. Remus has been trying to get me to confess ever since he found me writing your name in cursive hearts in my poetry notebook."

"That's- you write poetry?" Roman asks, distracted. "Wait, no, I-" He coughs, harder this time, and the last purple flower pushes its way into his mouth. He yanks it out and stares at it in surprise. It's beautiful.

"You had Hanahaki disease?!" Virgil squawks. "Oh god, Roman, I- I had no idea, you- oh my god, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Roman says, carefully setting the purple bloom on his desk and turning back to take Virgil into his arms. "I'm amazing. I feel like I could fly. You?" Lavender spreads under Virgil's eyes as he grins tentatively back.

"Same," he whispers.

"Toldja!" Remus's cackle fills the air. Roman flips off his brother without looking at the door and after a moment, Virgil follows suit. Remus snickers.

"I owe Logan five bucks," Remus says. "I thought it would take more for you to confess."

"You bet on my death?" Roman shrieks, outraged. Remus flees the room, laughing the entire way.

"Anyway," Virgil says. "I love you. Is that- is that okay?"

"It's brilliant," Roman assures his newfound love, tightening his embrace. "May I kiss you?"

Virgil's eyes are very soft when he murmurs, "yes."

[tsspromptmonth]

Echoes of the Past

What is Echoes of the Past?

Echoes of the Past is a month-long prompt event held in the month of October focusing around the creepy, eerie, or otherwise existential! Each day has a different quote to act as a prompt, which you can interpret however you like!

What can I make for the event?

Anything you’d like! Art, fic, moodboards, cosplay, song playlists, edits, etc! Any and all content is accepted as long as it follows the rules!

Do I have to follow the prompts?

Nope! The prompts are there to provide a starting point, but feel free to deviate! If there’s only a few ships you’d like to focus on for the month, you can do so! You can skip days or post multiple pieces on the same day too. This is meant to be a fun, stress free event!

How do I get my stuff reblogged here?

If you’re participating in the event, make sure to use the tags #tsshipmonth2022 & EotP2022 as well as tag this blog in your post! You don’t need to submit anything directly to this blog, just tag it if you want your work to be reblogged here!

What if I have questions?

Message us! We are happy to answer questions and we are really excited for the event!

[edupunkn00b]

Echoes of Our Future, Ch. 1: Where is Everybody, Pocket Protector?

Where is Everybody, Pocket Protector? - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ] CW: Swearing (right out the gate, thanks, Remus), spoopy/horror

For @tsshipmonth2020 Echoes of the Past October Writing Event. Day 1: "Believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see." — Edgar Allen Poe ---

“Hey, Pocket Protector, where the fuck is everybody?”

Logan closed his eyes and counted down from seven when his bed suddenly creaked and Remus’ half bored, half grating voice announced his presence in the room.

“Can’t you ever knock, Remus?”

The Creative Side seemed to ponder the question, drumming and somehow clacking his fingers against his chin. Finally, he shrugged. “Yeah, I think so.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice muffled. “Then why don't you?”

“Now you’re asking the right questions, Nerdy Wolverine.” he disappeared and there was a delicate knock on the door, but before Logan could stand to answer it, Remus reappeared, sitting cross-legged in his desk.

“Remus! I was in the middle of something! My schedules—” he snapped, then his voice softened when he realized Remus wasn't actually touching his desk, but instead was hovering an inch above it's surface. He sat back in his chair,  his quiet sigh of exasperation sounding more like a growl. He massaged his temple wi5h one hand and glared up at Remus without speaking, certain whatever he said, he might regret.

Remus just grinned and pointed to Logan’s head. “That’s why!” He hopped off and conjured a chair identical to Logan's, but flipped it around and sat backwards on it, arms crossed over the back where he tested his chin. He batted his lashes up at Logan with a little cackle. “You’re cute when you’re angry.” He shivered and Logan couldn't tell how much was for show and how much was genuine. “Terrifying, but cute.”

Logan rolled his eyes and swiveled his chair back to face his schedules. He'd nearly worked in the new adjustments they'd needed for the YooTooz filming, even after the schedule had been thrown into shambles from the last minute photo shoot. “What is it that you want, Remus? I am quite busy.”

“You may be brilliant, Lo Lo, but you don't always listen.” Remus rested his cheek on his own arms, watching for the light bulb moment.

“Wait,” Remus grinned and sat when Logan finally exclaimed. “What do you mean where is everybody?”

“You even phrased it in the form of a question!” Remus clapped.

Ignoring the outburst, Logan continued. “The others should all be—” He glanced at his watch and his eyes grew wide. Was it really that late already? He looked longingly at his perfectly made bed—somehow Remus’ use of it as a trampoline hadn't marred the smooth bedspread. Logan had been hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep before the others rose but surely even Virgil would’ve slunk down for a cup of coffee by eleven am.

“Well, I imagine they've finished breakfast and are…” He perused the day’s calendar. “Roman planned to finish a fresh draft of the script for the next video, Virgil and Janus are due to see Picani in a half an hour and Patton is usually elbow deep in cookie dough by now.”

Remus leaned forward, his face suddenly serious. “Do you smell cookies baking, Lo Lo?” He met Logan’s eyes and there was a flash of genuine worry behind their constant manic dancing in their sockets. “Cause I sure don't.”

“Nobody's out there, Lo. It's just you and me.”

“Remus!” Logan closed his eyes and let his head hang back against the headrest. He took in a slow, measured breath before his eyes snapped open and he glared at the Creative Side. “If this is just one of your stupid pranks.”

“You know none of my pranks are stupid, Lo Lo. Childish? Dangerous? Demented? Sure.” He shimmied his shoulders, manic grin painted across his face. “Never stupid.” Logan remained silent and simply raised one eyebrow. “I swear, Lo. no prank. NObody’s out there. You don't know how relieved I was to still see you.”

That nearly broke all of Logan’s willful suspension of disbelief but he signed again and slowly got up from his chair. He glared at Remus and straightened his tie, then held out his hand toward the door. “After you,” he said, lipss pulled into a tight scowl. 

“Thanks, Lo Lo. C’mon.”

Remus opened the door and they were n’t in the upstairs hall, but they stepped through ot the living room, as though they stepped right through the DVD case next to the stairwell. Logan turned around and touched the wall, looking for a trap or any remnants of whatever door or portal they must have just slipped through.

“I don’t understand, Remus. We were just in my room. There’s no way you were able to accurately replicate my bedroom.”

“Lo Lo…” Remus began.

“And this looks just like Thomas’s living room. Where have you taken us—”

“Lo Lo, look…” 

Logan finally turned away from the wall and looked out toward the kitchen. The dining table and the counter were still there, but in the place of the kitchen was a large revolving door, slowly spinning. Logan approached it slowly, nearly close enough to touch it before Rmeu suddenly yanked his hand back. 

“Don’t just go touching things you don’t understand!” Remus scoffed and rolled his eyes. He picked up an empty soda can off the kitchen counter and tossed it at the revolving doors. It fell to the floor and was swept along in the movement of the door until it completed its circle and the little can reappeared, bouncing and rolling along on the floor, continuing to be rolled along by the door.

“Good thinking, Remus. A trial run.” Logan tilted his head, brow furrowed, and watched the can go through three rotations. Each time it reappeared, it appeared undamaged, and, although he wasn’t keeping an accurate time, seemed to emerge at a consistent rate. He looked around on the counter and plucked an apple from the fruit bowl and tossed that inside.

The apple behaved similarly, bumping along in a different compartment than the can, but appeared undamaged on each revolution. “I think before we try it ours—” Logan turned to face Remus but stood frozen, mouth still forming his last word. Remus turned around and looked.

The entire living room was gone. The patio, the staircase, everything was just gone, swallowed up in an empty grey mist. Remus grabbed another apple from the counter and beamed it across the room. It should have struck the glass sliding doors, or at least the blinds.

They never even heard the apple land, the sound swallowed up by the thick grey mist.

“We gotta get the fuck outta here, Lo Lo!” Remus started to pull Logan toward the revolving doors. The refrigerator was half-enveloped in the same mist and he could no longer see the kitchen window.

Logan scanned the room, eyes casting uselessly into the grey mist. There was no sign or sound of anyone else. They must have all gone through the door already. His eyes landed on the empty dining table and he tugged Remus’ sleeve. “Wait, were those always there?” He pointed to a folded street map with print too small to read from where they stood, a book with a gold gilded cover that looks suspiciously like the frame of the revolving door, and a key.

He picked up the book. It was blank, save for an inscription on the first page. Logan read it aloud.

"Believe in nothing you hear, and only one half that you see." — Edgar Allan Poe

“Poe? Really? Who gives a fuck!” The mist had begun to swallow up the table, as well. “None of us are gonna be there in a minute, let’s go!”

Still clutching the book, Logan scooped up the map and the key just before Remus dragged him through the door and the world went black.

[korruptbrekker]

@tsshipmonth2020

Believe in nothing you hear, and only one half that you see. --Edgar Allan Poe--

Click for better resolution.

If you like, please reblog. <3

[candied-peach]

ao3: “treat or trick” rating: T warnings: prinxiety, dukeceit, logicality, halloween party, food, innuendos because remus genre: fluff description: The sides have a Halloween party. ( day 31: “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” — William Shakespeare, The Tempest @tsshipmonth2020 yay i finished the month! happy halloween! ^^)

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here," Roman intones, an ominous shadow falling across his face as he enters the living room.

Only to be promptly smacked in the arm by Virgil.

"Don't be such a drama queen," Virgil says lazily, rolling his eyes. "And speak for yourself."

"Virgil, you are literally dressed as the devil emoji," Roman points out. Virgil's face reddens a little.

"Yes, well, you're the Phantom of the Opera, you aren't exactly a devil," Virgil snipes. "And I don't want to hear about how Erik is totally the worst, especially when Patton is over there, dressed as the Giant Pumpkin."

"Hi, guys!" Patton says cheerfully. He's switched out his regular glasses for jack o' lantern shaped glasses in bright orange. Virgil wonders if he can actually see anything.

"That's makeup, right, Logan?" Virgil asks, seeing that Logan is dressed as a mad scientist. An awkward pause ensues. "....Right, Logan?" He persists.

"I don't want to talk about it," Logan finally mumbles, his face turning red under the soot.

"I do!" Remus chirps, dressed in- Virgil squints.

"Are you supposed to be doing the walk of shame?" Virgil demands, incredulous. "At a Halloween party?"

"I'm a preview of a few hours from now!" Remus remarks lasciviously, with a little shoulder shimmy.

"You're ridiculous, is what you are," Janus says, a fond note in his voice. He's dressed as Jekyll and Hyde, the scales on his face gleaming.

"Right, so we're all here," Virgil says. "Now what?"

"Now we watch Halloween movies and eat candy until we burst," Roman says proudly, at the same time as Remus exclaiming, "Halloween orgy!"

"Never, you fiend!" Roman shouts, his expression twisting into disgust.

"Well, not with you," Remus defends. "Everyone else, though..." He twiddles his mustache and leers.

"No," Logan says, deadpan. "Save it, Remus."

"Y'all are no fun," Remus sulks.

"So which Halloween movies?" Virgil asks, dragging the subject back with all the strength he could muster. "I assume slasher movies are out, thanks to Patton."

"Friday the 13th!" Remus suggests.

"I just said no slasher movies," Virgil says. "What about The Nightmare Before Christmas?"

"This is Halloween, this is Halloween!" Patton sings, his glasses slipping down his nose until Logan fixes them for him.

"Acceptable," Logan says, surreptitiously brushing off some of the soot on his face.

"Nightmare, it is," Roman says, slipping the appropriate DVD in and settling on the couch between Virgil and Patton. Virgil sneakily holds hands with him, lacing their fingers and giving them a squeeze.

"Gross!" Remus calls from the top of the sofa.

"Shut up!" Virgil says, as the beginning of the movie plays.

"Popcorn!" Patton exclaims, pausing the movie. "We forgot about popcorn! We should- Logan, why are you shaking your head like that?"

"Is that what happened?" Virgil asks, struggling not to laugh. "Is that why you yelled for no one to check the kitchen before the party?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Logan says, his face brick red again under the soot.

Roman tosses a mini Snickers bar at him.

[candied-peach]

ao3: “won’t you let me in” rating: T warnings: analogical, vampire au, blood, food genre: hurt/comfort description:  Virgil isn't really used to visitors. Especially ones at his fourth floor window. ( day 12: “Am I walking toward something I should be running away from?” — Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House @tsshipmonth2020 )

"So let me get this straight," Virgil tells the man lurking outside his window at three in the morning. His window on the fourth floor, no less. "You are a vampire. You are desperate. You want me to let you in and let you feed from me, but you swear you won't kill me, on your mother's life. Even though she's probably been dead for a century."

"I am aware this is fairly desperate and foolish," the vampire says, somehow hanging onto his window ledge. "But I am desperate, and you are the only one who appears to be awake and by a window."

"What's your name?" Virgil asks. The vampire hesitates a little, and he wonders why.

"Logan," he finally reluctantly provides. Virgil pauses, studies the vampire's face through the window glass, and his jaw sags open.

"Wait a minute!" Virgil exclaims. "You- you're that missing college student, aren't you? The one who went missing back in January, it was all over the news. You're a vampire now, what happened?!"

"Someone had a guilty conscience," Logan says shortly. Bright blue eyes briefly dim. "I apologize for taking up your time," he adds stiffly. "Please do not inform anybody else that you have seen me. I tried to visit my family afterward. It did not go well."

"Wait," Virgil blurts out, swallowing hard. He can't believe the next words out of his mouth. "I wanna let you in."

"Are you sure?" Logan asks. He looks almost as hesitant as Virgil feels. "I don't want to take your blood or enter your domicile without your consent. I don't-" He swallows convulsively, and Virgil wonders again just what happened to him. Nothing good.

"Yes," Virgil says. He opens the window with shaking hands, carefully lifting out the screen so Logan can enter. He does so surprisingly gracefully, although his foot immediately hooks the end table and he faceplants into the carpet. Virgil has to try very hard not to laugh as he fits the screen back in. Logan can use the front door to leave.

"So," Logan says, once he has climbed to his feet. Thankfully, his glasses aren't broken, although he does have to adjust them. Virgil wonders why a vampire still needs glasses. Logan's wearing a blue hoodie and jeans, but he's still got a tie loosely cinched around his neck, flopping outside the hoodie. Nothing like what Virgil expected a vampire to look like.

"So do I just...let you bite my neck or..." Virgil trails off, feeling awkward. Logan's taller than him, but not by much, and he still has a looming presence that's difficult to describe. Virgil thinks it's the vampire effect.

"I could bite your wrist if you prefer," Logan offers. "The neck is more difficult to hide."

"Oh," Virgil says. He hadn't thought of that. "Yeah, okay, the wrist works," he decides, yanking up his hoodie sleeve and offering his right wrist before he can chicken out. Logan blinks at him like a befuddled owl, before he gently presses Virgil to sit down on the couch.

"I do not think you should stand," is all Logan will say.

It doesn't hurt. Virgil's surprised it doesn't hurt. It doesn't feel like anything really. He can't focus on anything, just the pleasant lassitude spreading through his body. All too soon, it ends as Logan lifts his head, a smear of red across his lips.

"I have band-aids," Logan informs him, rummaging in his hoodie pocket and pulling out a box of them. It is crumpled and torn, but it looks about half full with band-aids. Logan picks one out and carefully affixes it over the two bloody dots on Virgil's wrist, gently tugging Virgil's sleeve over the bandage.

"You should drink something," Logan tells him. "Juice, maybe. Do you have juice?"

"Yeah, orange," Virgil says lazily. "In the kitchen."

Logan brings him the carton.

"I didn't know where the glasses were," Logan admits. "I didn't want to intrude more than I already have." Virgil waves a lazy hand at him.

"Don't mind," he says. He drinks some of the juice. It tastes very sweet to him. Very pulpy. He giggles.

"Oh," Logan says. "Oh, I think you're having some kind of reaction to being bitten. I am so sorry. Normally people just go to sleep afterwards." He fidgets with his hands, his face drooping into a frown.

"It's fine, Logan," Virgil says sincerely. "I don't mind." Logan hesitates.

"I should go," Logan says. Virgil reaches out, snagging his sleeve as he turns to leave.

"Stay," Virgil implores. He's not sure why he doesn't want the vampire with the haunted eyes and incongruous tie to leave, but he suddenly, fiercely doesn't. Logan should stay. They could figure things out in the morning. "Please?" He adds. "Do you need to avoid sunlight, I have blackout curtains-"

"I don't like sunlight, but I won't burst into flames," Logan says. He tilts his head to one side a little. "Thank you for your concern, though. It is...unexpected."

"You are the politest vampire I know," Virgil says. "And the only one. But that's besides the point. Stay."

"I will," Logan acquiesces. "If only to look after you and make sure that you do not react poorly to me biting you."

"Hey, whatever works," Virgil says, letting that lazy feeling spread through him again. Logan's eyes are very soft, watching him.

"Sleep well," Logan whispers, grabbing the blanket from the back of the sofa and tucking it around Virgil. "I'll stay...Virgil. I'll stay."

Virgil smiles sleepily. Good.

[candied-peach]

ao3: “i’m having a great time” rating: T warnings: logan angst, considering ducking out, depression genre: angst, open but hopeful ending description: Logan ponders ducking out when a certain side stops him. ( day 10: “It may be the wrong decision, but fuck it, it’s mine.” — Mark Z Danielewski, House of Leaves @tsshipmonth2020 )

It's the only logical thing to do.

Logan massages his throat, still sore from Janus's cane yanking him out of the way. Janus has apologized, and Logan believes him, but the fact remains that Janus still did it. Janus still replaced him. Janus unmasked himself. That's what hurts the most. Logan is aware that Janus appeared in a different...format, but it still stings.

The fact remains. Thomas doesn't need him. Oh, Thomas still requires some degree of logic. But if Logan ducks out, Thomas will still have some logic. It won't be like Virgil. He just won't have Logan specifically, not like this, and he thinks maybe that's only for the better.

"Thomas doesn't need me," Logan says out loud, his voice slightly hoarse. "Not anymore." Maybe he did once upon a time. Logan could remember the thrill when Thomas listened to him, when the others cared about what he had to say. But those moments have grown fewer and fewer over the past several years. If there is a particular element of his job missing from Thomas's general subconscious, Logan is positive one of the others will pick it up. He feels bad potentially adding to anybody else's work load, but not enough to stop himself.

A breath of yellow from the corner of his eye, and Logan whirls to see Janus standing there, hesitant and awkward-footed, silver tongue silent for the moment.

"Why are you here?" Logan demands.

"You-" Janus stops. "When someone tells a big enough lie, it summons me," he explains. "I can always hear lies in the mind palace, but the significant ones automatically draw me."

Logan blinks in confusion.

"Your senses must be mistaken, Deceit- Janus," Logan corrects himself. "I have told no lies."

"I disagree," Janus says softly. "I hear lies, Logan. I heard yours."

"What is it?" Logan asks.

"Thomas does need you," Janus says, and Logan freezes.

"Inconceivable," he says through stiff lips. "Try again."

"I'm not lying," Janus insists. "Thomas doesn't just need logic, Logan. He needs you. You're so important and your contributions should be valued. You-"

"Should be," Logan repeats. "Should be, but they aren't." His voice strengthens. "I know what to do, Janus. Please don't try to stop me."

"Ducking out wasn't the right decision for Virgil," Janus says, a wince on his face when he mentions the anxious side. "It's not for you."

"It may be the wrong decision," Logan says softly, "but fuck it, it's mine."

"I won't let you leave quietly," Janus promises, a sad look coming into his mismatched eyes. "I'll get the others, Logan. I'll get Thomas."

"Do it then," Logan says, sitting down on his bed. "If you believe I am so important..." He hesitates, but he cannot make himself say prove it.

"You are," Janus insists. "Please, Logan. Let me show you."

"You can try, I suppose," Logan acquiesces, reluctant to duck out right in front of the other side. "But if you are wrong..."

"If I am wrong, then I won't stand in your way any longer," Janus says, although Logan doubts that. There's too much stubbornness in those eyes. Logan sighs, pushing up his glasses.

"Fine," Logan says, still reluctant. His throat still aches. His heart still hurts. He has not embraced the welcoming numbness that ducking out brings.

Not yet.

[candied-peach]

ao3: “the loss of hope” rating: T warnings: analogical, royality, sickness, food genre: sickfic description:  Roman's sick. Well, they're all sick, to be fair. But Roman is extra sick, and Virgil is tired of it. ( day 27: “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” — Dante, Inferno @tsshipmonth2020 )

Virgil carefully tapes the handmade sign in place on Roman's door. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here is scribbled on the paper in Virgil's fanciest handwriting, with little doodles of storm clouds and jagged lightning bolts around it in purple and yellow.

As he tiptoes away, he comes face to face with Logan, who raises a single eyebrow.

"Am I wrong?" Virgil challenged in a whisper, just as the ever-present clang of Roman's bell rang out, and they heard his sick-addled voice beg for a glass of juice.

"....No," Logan says after a moment. "No, you're not."

Patton comes trotting up the stairs, carefully balancing a glass of juice, only to nearly drop it when he sees Virgil's newest contribution to the door.

"Virgil!" Patton whispers in a shocked tone. "Virgil, he's sick."

"He's insufferable," Virgil hisses back, digging out a tissue and blowing his nose, then banishing the used tissue to the ether. "And he's not the only one who's sick! We all are!"

"He's the worst off," Patton argues, as the bell rings again. He darts another glance at the door, but he doesn't take the sign off, just enters.  Virgil hears Patton's muffled voice telling Roman that he had brought his juice.

"Come on," Logan suggests, taking Virgil by the hand and leading him downstairs. Virgil coughs, stumbling after his boyfriend. Logan settles him on the couch, draping a blanket over him, as Virgil protests.

"I'm fine," he insists as Logan sticks a thermometer in his mouth.

"You have a fever," Logan says. "You are not fine." Virgil sighs.

"What about you?" Virgil asks. Logan summons another thermometer and pops it into his mouth.

"No fever," he reports after a minute or so. Virgil huffs under his breath. "I'll get you some medicine, and then you can rest," Logan says softly. "Patton and I can take care of Roman for now."

Virgil barely manages to get his medicine swallowed before he's out like a light, wrapped up in a soft purple blanket and resting on the sofa. Logan looks down at him with a gentle expression, before the familiar clang of the bell calls him away once more.

Two days later, Roman thunders down the stairs, a familiar paper crumpled in one hand.

"What's the meaning of this?" He bellows. Virgil stands up, giving a two-fingered salute.

"I see you're feeling better," he says, and sinks out to his bedroom, laughing all the way.

[candied-peach]

ao3: “but promise me this” rating: T warnings: platonic dukeceit, crying genre: hurt/comfort description: Remus doesn't want Janus to leave. (day 7:  “Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me. I would write the words a thousand times if they’d be strong enough to hold you here.” — Victoria Schwab, Gallant @tsshipmonth2020 )

He's going to leave.

Remus knows that. He knows that Janus doesn't belong down here. Doesn't belong in the dark, in the shadows, in the rot. He belongs with Virgil. With the others. He belongs with the light. He is self preservation. He is good.

Remus is not.

Remus is selfish.

Remus is greedy.

Remus doesn't want Janus to leave.

Which is why Remus is currently breaking Janus's door down, board by board, while Janus sleeps. Or at least, he was sleeping. Now he is awake and standing just a few inches from Remus, his face screwed up and tired and annoyed, and Remus can't make sense of the words spilling from his lips. He sounds like a Peanuts character, and it frightens him, because normally, Janus is the only one he understands when he feels this way.

He's managed to fuck up even this.

A tap on his wrist brings him back to himself, at least a little bit, and he looks up with startled, wet eyes to find Janus's ungloved hand tapping a familiar rhythm on his wrist. Four, seven, eight. Four, seven, eight. Remus falls into the rhythm, his chest hitching.

"-Remus?"

"I understand you," Remus whispers, and bursts into tears. Janus's arms wind around him as they stand, separated by the jagged bottom half of Janus's broken door, and if that isn't symbolism, Remus doesn't know what is.

"Remus, what's wrong?" Janus asks, gently wiping away his tears as he starts to wind down. He is snotty and weepy and gross, but Janus pulls a handkerchief out of nowhere, dabbing at his face with soft hands.

"I don't want you to leave," Remus says, tiny and choked and miserable. "Stay. Stay with me. Please." He knows it's futile. Expects Janus to step away. For his face to shutter closed, for the gloves to return.

Instead, Janus presses him to the front of his pajamas.

"I'm not leaving you behind," Janus murmurs. "Never, Remus. I might- I think I'm going to end up moving up there. But I'm taking you with me. Everyone else can deal. I know Thomas has started to accept you more."

"He thinks I'm gross," Remus says. He sounds a little proud.

"You are," Janus agrees. "But that's okay. You're allowed to be gross. Gross and loud and messy and- and you, Remus. And I'm not going to leave you."

Remus thinks he can be forgiven for the fresh tears blotted into the fabric of Janus's pajamas after that. It's Janus's fault, after all.

[candied-peach]

ao3: “goodbye to the old me” rating: T warnings: prinxiety, nonbinary virgil, mistaken character death, fire mention genre: fluff and angst description: Roman thinks Virgil and Remus are up to something terrible. Well, he's half right. ( day 22: “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, babe,” he whispered to the twisted corpse.“ — Allan Walsh, Low Life @tsshipmonth2020 )

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you," Roman whispered, his eyes wide and horrified as he looked at the corpse of his partner. Virgil just looked like they were sleeping, but their chest wasn't moving, and their eyes were sunken into his skull. Their hands had been folded over their chest, and they were wearing their old black jacket.

Roman lambasted himself, his hands shaking, as he wanted to move closer, and didn't quite dare. He should have listened to Virgil when they said Remus wanted them for "something weird." How was he supposed to predict that "something weird" meant killing Virgil? He sank to his knees, tears sliding down frozen cheeks.

"Roman?"

It has to be a mirage, Roman thinks, because that is Virgil's voice. Virgil's voice behind him, and the lips on the corpse haven't so much as twitched.

"Roman, what are you doing here?" Shuffling footsteps and Roman freezes in horror. A hand touches his shoulder and he shrieks, nearly falling on Virgil's dead body. He twists away, only to come face to face with...

Virgil?

"Oh," Virgil says. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry, Ro, Remus thought it'd be a good way to like say goodbye since I've come out as nonbinary, is it too weird, oh shit, you must have thought I was really dead, sorry, it's just a mannequin Remus made, I promise, I-"

"It's okay," Roman says, cutting off Virgil's panicked ramble. He feels bad about it, but he doesn't want Virgil to work themself into a panic attack. "It did freak me out," he admitted. "I"m glad that you're, you know. Alive."

A weak laugh escapes Virgil and they fall into Roman's embrace, the purple plaid patches on their new jacket shining proudly in the light.

"Bro!" Remus's voice sounds through the room. "You came just in time! We were gonna set Virgey's corpse on fire!"

"What?!" Roman asks, alarmed as he pulls back a little to stare into Virgil's face. Virgil blushes and buries themself back into Roman's arms.

"Too much?" They ask, their voice muffled. Roman considers for a moment.

"Do you want to do it?" He asks instead. Virgil nods hesitantly, face still crumpled into Roman's front.

"Then it's not too much," Roman says. "But please practice proper fire safety, it's Remus." He laughs ruefully. "I sound like Logan now," he says.

"Wanna help?" Virgil asks. There's a strangely vulnerable look in their eyes when they look up. This time, Roman doesn't hesitate at all.

"I would love to," he says.

[candied-peach]

ao3: “when the bell tolls” rating: T warnings: intruloceit, unsympathetic orange, character death mostly off screen (sorry orange), blood, vampire!orange, vampire!logan, werewolf!remus genre: angst with a happy ending description: Janus is in dire straits when his boyfriends show up. (day 18: “Do you not know that to-night, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway?” — Bram Stoker, Dracula @tsshipmonth2020 )

"Don't cry," the orange-draped man cooed, stroking a finger down the scaled side of Janus's cheek and making him shudder. "Don't you want to be good?"

No, no, Janus did not. He doesn't know what this man has planned, but it can't be anything good. He's already marked as different by his scales- he's used to harassment, but not this.

Never this.

The clock chimes midnight and the orange-draped man's smile widens, revealing needle-like fangs. Janus pales. Vampire.

"You're my little gift to myself," Orange tells him in a conversational tone. "I've been so thirsty the past few months. But you're going to make up for it." His smile is vulpine sharp. "I'm afraid you won't survive."

Hearing that, Janus's eyes widen and he thrashes harder in his restraints, hoping against hope that Orange has messed up somewhere and he can break them. Nothing. He remains trapped.

"I'm sorry," Orange starts to say, in a patently false voice, before the window by the door shatters and something enormous and hairy bowls Orange over like a toy. A low growl sounds through the room and Janus's blood freezes, because he's not sure if this is a rescue or if he's just ended up a werewolf's chew toy (something infinitely worse than a vampire's plaything, in his mind). Then he recognizes his boyfriend's familiar shaggy shape and relaxes marginally.

"Get the fuck away from my boyfriend," a wonderfully familiar voice snarls, as Logan makes his way through the broken glass to Janus's side. His eyes are nearly glowing red with fury, and he snaps Janus's bonds with ease, just as Remus steps back a little, letting Orange get up if he wants to. He wisely remains on the floor.

"Thank you," Janus whispers, as Logan sweeps him up into his arms. Tears glitter in his eyes, tracing down his cheeks. His arms ache and his wrists are stained red from the restraints.

"Hey!" Orange calls after them, his voice quivering. "Call your dog off!"

"Dog?" Logan exchanges a look with Janus, then Remus, who's still bristling. "Hey, Remus? Get 'em."

Logan opens the door one-handed and carries Janus into the cool night air, urging him to ignore the sounds of carnage coming from inside. Janus weeps with relief when the moon shines down on him. He thought he'd never see it again.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Logan asks, worry softening his eyes.

"Just the bonds," Janus says. "He uh, he was going to feed on me, but you and Remus got there first."

"Good," Logan says. "No one's allowed to feed on you."

"Exactly," Remus says, loping up. There is red on his muzzle, and it turns Janus's stomach a little. "He can't bother you anymore," Remus says frankly. "He's werewolf chow." He licks his lips, and Janus's stomach flips again.

"Remus!" Logan mildly scolds, noting the sick look on Janus's face. "Save the play by play for later, perhaps?"

"Fiiiine," Remus acquiesces. "I'll tell you all the gushy details later."

"Thank you," Logan says, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Janus's forehead.

Janus's eyes droop, as he finally feels himself fully relax for the first time in hours.

"Love you," he mumbles. "Thank you."

"I'll always protect you," Logan says, as Remus chatters that it's his pleasure. Janus smiles weakly, pushing the memory of Orange's face out of his head.

He's safe.

[candied-peach]

ao3: “orange slices” rating: T warnings: platonic drlamp, unsympathetic orange, mild violence genre: hurt/comfort description:  Virgil doesn't know how good he has it until that good is threatened by something he never saw coming. (day 6:  “When you have too much faith in something, it’s bound to hurt you. Too much faith in anything will suck you dry. In this way, all the world is a vampire.” — Poppy Z. Brite @tsshipmonth2020 )

Virgil looks at the ground, his ears ringing. His cheek burns from the imprint of Orange's hand.

"I thought you were different," he says, in the hushed quiet. "I-"

"Well," Orange drawls. His eyes are very red when Virgil looks up. "That was your first mistake, Virgil." He prowls closer, forcing Virgil to back up.

"You really thought we were friends?" Orange asks. His teeth are like needles in the light. "Me, friends with a faerie?" He laughs, short and sharp, and it hurts more than the slap ever could.

Virgil bumps into the wall and freezes, the chill of the brick penetrating his hoodie. His face still hurts, still stings from the force of the slap. Orange is just watching him. Orange has watched him plenty of times before. Virgil's never seen this look in his eyes before. He's seen joy and comfort and protectiveness. Never this predatory hunger, this sharp watchfulness.

"What are you going to do?" Virgil asks, and his voice quivers.

"I'm a vampire, Virgil," Orange says, stepping closer. "What do you think I'm going to do?" Virgil swallows hard. Never before has he cursed how young he is. How few his defenses are. He feels so small.

"Please don't," Virgil whispers. "Please- you- it couldn't have all been a lie-" Orange looks almost sympathetic at that, and for a moment, Virgil feels a brief surge of hope.

"It's just my nature, Virgil," Orange says. "No hard feelings." And he presses Virgil against the wall, fingers biting into the fluted contours of his shoulders, one rough hand tipping his head to the side. Virgil struggles, but it feels like he's in a dream. He can't find purchase, can't get away. His panic is bright and overwhelming, as he feels Orange's teeth scrape the delicate skin of his throat.

"Get away from him!" Patton shrieks, and it hits Orange like a physical blow. He drops Virgil, who crumples to the ground like a used tissue, and whirls, his fangs bared and eyes wild.

Virgil looks up shakily to see all of his friends- his real friends- even Thomas- He's human and shaking and terrified but there all the same, holding a wrench clutched in both hands.

"Lay a hand on him again and I'll tear it off," Roman says softly. His eyes are eldritch green. His twin nods in grim agreement. Virgil scoots away, along the wall, watching the confrontation with dazed eyes. A thin trickle of blood runs down the side of his neck. Janus spots it in an instant, and his face turns icy.

"Guys," Orange says, with a weak chuckle. He raises his hands placatingly. "It- it was just a joke, that's all, I wouldn't- come on, I wouldn't really, Virgil knows that, right?" He turns toward Virgil, who flinches back.

"Friends with a faerie?" Virgil repeats, his voice shaking. "It's just your nature, no hard feelings." He dips his fingers in the blood painting his skin, showing the red splotches to the others, a blatant admission of guilt.

"If I were you," Logan says idly. "I would run."

And that's about the time Virgil starts to cry.

Orange darts away, melding with the shadows, and Thomas's wrench clatters to the floor. In a moment, Virgil is surrounded, scooped up by Roman who tucks him against his chest as he encourages Logan to examine his throat.

"You'll heal just fine," Logan says. "He barely got you."

"Thank you," Virgil sniffles, his voice wobbly.

"You're our friend, Virge," Patton says, and his face is very warm and very old at the same time. It makes Virgil feel soft and mushy inside.

"Love you guys," Virgil says, exhaustion crashing over him. Roman seems to sense it because he adjusts his grip, keeping Virgil securely pressed against him.

"Sleep, Virgil," Janus murmurs. "We'll talk about this later."

Virgil's eyes droop closed as he feels Logan finish cleaning and dressing the vampire wound on his neck. The last thing he hears is Remus promising upon all that he holds dear that Orange will pay.

It makes him smile.

[candied-peach]

ao3: “the art of flight” rating: T warnings: platonic prinxiety, arguments genre: hurt/comfort description: Virgil embodies the second half of ‘fight or flight.’ (day 25: “A fundamental sense of terror is built into us humans, on the instinctual level.” — Koki Suzuki, Ring @tsshipmonth2020 )

Virgil runs.

He runs as fast and far into the deeper reaches of the dark as he can, his breath coming in pants, his side aching with sharp, exquisite pain. The shouts of the others fade into the distance and only when he can no longer hear them at all through the rushing in his ears, does Virgil start to slow down.

He's hopelessly lost, staring at grim passageway after grim passageway. There are doors back here, but they're all barred and locked, and he can hear gruesome sounds coming from a few of them.

He can't go back. The others are so angry. He shivers. He's never seen them so upset with him. He didn't mean to be provocative. Didn't mean to shout back. He's just had such a shitty day, strung up on tenterhooks. His anxiety has never felt so much like a live beast, snarling and nipping at his heels. He knows better than to take it out on the others, but he just-

It's not an excuse, Virgil tells himself. It's just the explanation. And he tried to say he was sorry, but then Roman started forward, and before Virgil knew it, he was in flight.

And now he's here. It's cold here. He shivers in his hoodie. His purple-patched hoodie. He doesn't deserve it after snapping at the others the way he did. He knows he's spiraling, knows that he needs to stop, but he can't.

"Virgil?" Roman's voice echoes and warps, and Virgil's head snaps up. He tiptoes down the hall, shivering, to see Roman standing at the junction of several hallways, twisting his head back and forth as he attempts to see where Virgil might have gone.

"Roman?" Virgil asks weakly. Roman's head immediately snaps back to Virgil and he cringes back as Roman strides forward. He stops, just short of touching Virgil.

"Why did you run?" Roman asks, and he sounds so concerned, tears prick Virgil's eyes.

"Um," Virgil says, eloquent to the last. "I am fight or flight, you know," he feebly jokes. "I just- it was too much- I'm sorry," he blurts out. Roman looks confused.

"I'm sorry, too," Roman says. "I said some terrible things. I didn't mean any of them, Virgil, I'm sorry." He looks around. "Can we get out of here?" He asks. "Do you know the way out?"

Virgil is startled to realize that he does.

"Yes," he says. "Yes, Roman, I- let's get out of here." Roman's hand steals out, capturing Virgil's icy fingers in his warm ones, and he waits patiently by Virgil's side to lead the way.

And after a few moments of breathing, Virgil does.

[candied-peach]

ao3: “why i aorta” rating: T warnings: dukeceit, blood, dissection (not of the characters), food genre: fluff description: Remus, dissecting a heart in the living room, and things of a similar vein. Janus doesn't know why he puts up with it. ( day 16: “Horror’s not a symptom, it’s a love affair.” — Stephen Graham Jones, My Heart Is a Chainsaw @tsshipmonth2020 )

"Remus," Janus begins conversationally, as he settles on the sofa. "Must you dissect things in the living room?"

"Of course!" Remus chirps, his eyes glittering bright acid green as he plopped a bigger-than-normal too-gushy-to-be-human heart on the coffee table. His instruments jingled merrily with the forceful movement, laid out on a Christmas-themed cocktail napkin. "That's part of the fun, Jan Jan!"

"The blood gets everywhere," Janus points out dryly. "I suppose that is also part of the fun?" Remus nods, enthusiastic, as he turns to select the first scalpel. Janus sighs, but a little smile betrays him.

"So what is it?" Janus asks. Remus shrugs, the movement of his shoulders stilted and unnatural.

"Just made it!" Remus exclaims. "I wanted it to be juicy." Judging by the blood squirting across the wood, Janus would say it meets that goal.

"A monster heart, perhaps?" Janus suggests. Remus absently nods, focusing on his work. He's surprisingly dedicated to his task. Janus puts on a simple slasher movie, one he hasn't seen before, but already knows that he will be able to predict the ending.

"Oh, come on," he complains, not five minutes later, as blood sprays across the TV screen. It is not from Remus this time. "Why would you go that way, toward the sound? Of course the killer's there! Of course you're going to die!"

"I'd go that way," Remus says, with a little giggle. Janus's expression softens as he gazes at his boyfriend.

"Of course you would," Janus says fondly. "But any killer who threatens you better be prepared for a good time, I have a feeling."

"Damn right!" Remus exclaims as he springs up and plants an enthusiastic, sloppy kiss on Janus's mouth, getting blood all over his outfit.

"....Oops," Remus says, after a moment's pause. Janus sighs and snaps himself into a more comfortable outfit.

"You gave me impetus to change," Janus reassures him. "It is fine." Remus relaxes, turning back to his gruesome work. Janus settles back against the sofa cushions, snapping his fingers and summoning a bowl of popcorn and a packet of M&Ms to mix into the popcorn. He also summons some red hots and popping candy to put into Remus's bowl, kept separate for that purpose.

A little content sigh escapes Janus's mouth as Remus extracts something small and bloody from deep within the heart and exclaims in wordless triumph. Just another Saturday, and it's absolutely perfect.

[candied-peach]

ao3: “seize up” rating: T warnings: prinxiety, background lamp, seizures, crying genre: hurt/comfort description: Virgil has a bad, bad day. ( day 14: “Just when you think you’ve hit rock bottom, you realize you’re standing on another trapdoor.” — Marisha Pessl, Night Film @tsshipmonth2020 )

Virgil blinks, staring around his room with fuzzy, unfocused eyes. His entire body hurts, and there are tear tracks down his cheeks. He traces one of them with shaking, disbelieving fingers. His thoughts are thick with fog, his head throbs, and his brain feels like someone has set it on fire. What happened?

Staring at the video still playing on his laptop instantly provides the answers, as it's flashing worse than a rave at three in the morning. He immediately slams the cover of his laptop down, wincing and hoping it doesn't provoke another seizure.

"Fuck," Virgil whispers, his tongue clumsy. He feels like shit. It's not fair. He had nightmares last night. He already had a migraine brewing. His boyfriends are all out today, so he's home alone. The day has been awful, and it's not even over yet.

He rubs his forehead with a hand that feels like lead weights have been attached to it. It's hard for him to attach any meaning to any thought that drifts by. He shouldn't be alone. He doesn't want to be alone. A fretful look appears as tears begin to fill his eyes again. He wants to get out of the chair (he's amazed he stayed in it in the first place), but he can't seem to get up yet.

"Love? Are you okay?"

Virgil turns his head, surprised to see Roman standing there, a worried look in his eyes. He's still wearing his jacket, although he's unzipped it all the way.

"Hi," Virgil says, managing a little wave, then bursts into tears. Roman gently tugs him up and away from the chair, swinging him up in his arms and carrying him to the bed.

"What happened?" Roman asks, gently smoothing Virgil's hair back from his forehead and peering into his eyes. Roman's own eyes are soft with concern.

"I saw a music video," Virgil mumbles. "It was...it was bad."

"I'm sorry," Roman says, cuddling him tighter and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I got done early, so I came home to see you."

"'m glad," Virgil mutters, burying his face in Roman's chest as Roman cards his fingers through Virgil's hair. It feels nice and soothing, and it makes the tears start to slow. His eyes still hurt, but that's okay. That can be dealt with later.

For now, all Virgil wants to do is cuddle his boyfriend and wait for his body to let him feel better.