Had a brain aneurism and this came out of it. Enjoy if it’s your sort of thing!

Premise:Victor’s a huge fan of Marnie. He’d love nothing more than to be by her side! His loyalty rewards him by getting to join her in the most intimate moment imaginable… with a catch.

Contains: Feminization, Humiliation, Mild Feminization Focused Cuckolding, Small Penis Humiliation, Boy Tits, Flashbacks back and forth.

Length:~2500 Words

-Twitter (Where I’m at the most!) | Patreon|AO3|Hentai Foundry-

——–

Victor had always been such a huge fan of Marnie. He’d do anything to be by the side of that adorable goth girl, no matter what.

That’s what he’d always told himself. That’s what he’d promised himself he’d do if she ever let him into her life. After all this time, he’d truly made good on his word.

He’d done it! He’d done whatever it took to be by Marnie’s side. He’d earned his way into this most intimate moment, with Marnie’s face contorted in bliss from one of the hardest dickings of her life, pressing her fat tits against Victor’s body…

Yet, it didn’t feel as sweet as he’d wanted it. It stung. It was so nice to feel Marnie’s body in this heated moment, but it’d all taken so many sacrifices, and it wasn’t without its downsides even now. Still, it was impossible for him to say he was regretful. Seeing and touching this beautiful woman’s body was a heartracing experience. Any bitterness to this encounter was smothered out by the sweetness. Actually, it might be making the whole affair even more exciting.

Victor’s memory lapsed back to that first encounter where he’d admitted his feelings.

“Y-you’re so cute!” He remembered stuttering. “I-I want to be with you, no matter the cost!”

That stare Marnie retorted with at his desperate plea was one he’d never forget. Her face contorted into such a nasty, yet somehow still so cute, scowl for the ages.

“You want to fuck me, aye?” She spat back out .

Victor couldn’t believe he’d heard that sentence out of Marnie’s cute mouth.

“That’s what you really want, huh? We’re both young still, we’re both exploring. A boy like you about to hit 20 ought to be craving some woman in his life, yeah?” Marnie sniped.

Victor could still remember how hard it was to get a response out of his throat… and how desperately hard that bulge in his pants was.

“I… I-I just think you’re cute!” He had said, so honestly.

Victor wasn’t even sure what his goals were, at that point. He’d thought he’d approached her with his purest intentions, but he couldn’t deny just how much those lewd thoughts got his mind racing.

Or… or was it those lewd ideas that got his thoughts swirling? Was it maybe just that way Marnie had barked at her, the way he’d put him down and made him feel so small?

In that moment two years ago, it was hard to parse exactly his drive. Now, however…

“UNNNNNGHHHH~!” Marnie roared like a beast in heat as the dick ravaging her insides picked up the pace!

Victor was absolutely astounded. Just seeing his favorite cute trainer’s pretty face contorted into this shape, seeing those eyes winced shut, those teeth borne, every facial muscle on her body contorting just to endure the wrath ravaging her pussy was total heaven!

Now, here he was, after having done everything Marnie had asked, blessed with this delightful opportunity to have their bodies pressed together and to see his dear idol of a trainer show such intimate emotions. She rarely cracked a smile, yet here she was looking like the happiest slut in all of Galar! The stimulation was so intense, it felt as if he were about to blow already, but no! He had to hold on. He had to wait until Marnie was ready to bust, and cum together with his beloved.

The moment was so hot, Victor felt himself no more than a vessel for this burning passion. He wanted something, a gift, stolen freshly from the lips of his dearest Marnie. He let his urges overwhelm him. He closed his eyes, puckered his lips, and steadily leaned in for that sweet, sweet kiss…

Marnie reciprocated with the open palm of her hand.

“Don’t push your luck, princess.” She taunted.

A firm shove of her arm away and Victor went toppling down onto the bedspread. That sweet press of Marnie’s sizable breasts against his gigantic slutty boy udders left him. He was knocked down, now only allowed to watch as Marnie got the dicking of her life, from some stranger she’d met within the hour.

Victor was terribly disappointed. He would have loved to finally feel what Marnie felt like when she was groaning in pure bliss, given he was never, ever going to be able to fuck her like one of these random studs she fucked so frequently. Maybe next time. Instead, Victor grabbed one of his titanic titties and pinched his nipples with his fingers, his other hand sinking to stroke his withered little sissy clitty with just his thumb and index finger, the way Marnie taught him little bitches masturbate.

To think he’d ever had aspersions to fuck Marnie. Laughable!

He’d been a good boy, and a better girl. Marnie had seen something in him on that first encounter. She’d found a spineless little wimp who was so infatuated with her, one who’d bend to her every whim and love it. Victor had been given every opportunity to leave or say no to her demands, but he never did! Maybe he was so depraved a simp that he just went along with it. Perhaps instead he just realized he was into Marnie’s kinky ideas and decided to indulge. It was hard to say, perhaps even both, but it mattered not. The results were the same. Victor was a totally feminized cucky princess now!

“Start huffing these nature mints!” Marnie demanded of him, all that time ago.

Victor knew the reputation those things had. They were great for Pokemon, but a human getting too much of those funky herbs in their system had drastic changes. He’d heard about that one guy who’d turned into a buxom bombshell snorting Sassy mints constantly. Was he at risk of changing like that? Perhaps he was, but the rush of mystery and a chance to be around Marnie drove him to experiment.

Victor pinched his nipples more intensely, groaning in delight. Two years of constant Timid mints had morphed his body so very much. His face was so very soft, unable to ever hold a spark of that handsome rugged flavor so many girls craved. His curves were insane. Gigantic breasts swelled full with milk made it certain everyone on their first encounter would mistake him for a girl, instead of his true identity as a shameless bimbo boy.

Where his chest had grown, his crotch had been devastated. Despite being hornier than he’d ever been in his life wrapped in Marnie’s clutches, his boy parts had become beyond pathetic. Calling it his manhood didn’t feel right; there was nothing manly about it. Referring to it as even a penis felt wrong; why should he burden the name of that mighty organ that pumped babies into sluts by ladening it with this embarrassment? Victor had a little clit, a pathetic three inch clitty of a non-dick that sealed his fate as a perpetually pussyless sissy.

His little fairy wand got so hard so easily. Just the sound of Marnie saying something in a slightly sour tone got him all stiff and ready. All it took then was just a few pumps of his stylus and then.. Pop! There he’d go! A climax that had him spurting watery strands of the saddest excuse for cum imaginable from his shriveled little sissy balls. Yet, he was never really satisfied from his quickshot sissygasms. Another look of Marnie’s face and that refractory period would vanish. He was far too horny a submissive bitch to ever cum enough blanks!

Marnie looked too cute getting her brains boned out of her for him not to rub himself. He pumped his length with two of his fingers as hard and fast as a pussy-free failure of a man could to his dear idol being dicked down properly.

Marnie was starting to lose control herself. “F-fuck me hard! Knock me up! Knock me the FUCK UP!”

Victor watched with glee as his favorite trainer put her face down and her ass up, dead set on having that cock crammed as far up her cunt as possible. How depraved! How indecent! To think a dick could be that dizzyingly good, it’d turn calm and cool Marnie into a cock sleeve ready to be a mommy! It-

Oh! Oooh, Victor was already there!

Victor’s eyes went wide as he stared at his dear Marnie being fucked stupid, body almost frozen solid save his twitching hips. His crotch did little involuntary humps against the air, one of the few things he’d ever be allowed to mate with, and… There! Victor’s tiny little cock dewed at the tip with a clear little dollop of sissy juices, quickly sliding down his shaftlette and all but totally evaporating. Now his twitching dick fired off a rope, or as best a rope his shriveled failure dick could muster. It shot up just a little, then came crashing down to barely wet his cock. A steady ooze leaked out of him from there on. Anyone who wasn’t watching him would have no idea if his little stick was sweaty or if he’d had a hard orgasm. For Victor, however, it was the best orgasm he’d had in ages. His breasts jiggled everywhere as his body tried to breath in fresh sex-drenched air to replace all that energy he’d just spent.

It was such a good orgasm, in fact, Victor felt it was appropriate he tell his idol what he’d just done in her image. She’d love the news, surely! Or perhaps… Well, if she didn’t, Victor was bound to love her reaction either way.

“Marnie? Hey, Marnie?” Victor began.

Marnie’s eyes were still rolled back with a big smile across her face as her pussy continued to face total destruction.

Victor continued. “I came to you again Marnie! I spilled even more seed to your gorgeous body! Aren’t you proud of me?”

“Shut the fuuuck UUUUUUUPPPPP~!” Marnie groaned as her own orgasm finally hit!

Victor watched in total captivation as Marnie’s body moved with such primal vigor, such raw and unfiltered delight, at an orgasm like no other! Her whole body was wobbly from her shaky arms and legs shifting, trying to endure the raw rush to her pleasure center from taking this much fat dick. Her hands soon gave up. Face down and ass up, she groaned into the bedsheet as the climax of that stranger behind her filled her folds, right in front of Victor’s pathetic face!

“Deeper! Deeepeeer~!” Marnie cried! “Knock me up! Knock me uuuuuup~! Please put a baby in meeeee~!”

It was a silencing sight for Victor. He couldn’t help but look and watch as those two hot bodies swapped fluids without an ounce of his involvement. His role was to watch, to be a big tittied feminized spectator to just how a man really fucked pussy. It was astounding. It was haunting. It was maddeningly arousing. Victor already had a fresh stiffy propped up again for this lewd display.

The unknown man pulled out of Marnie’s thoroughly drenched pussy. He took the time to savor his accomplishment, and gave the woman some firm smacks against her ample cheeks. With that though, he was gone, leaving Marnie and Victor alone until the next volunteer slipped in. That was it for him. He’d slipped in and out of Marnie’s life and done more to her womanhood than Victor had done in years. It got him going even harder.

Marnie’s face emerged from her grunting grounds of blanket. Her cucky doll was stroking away again already, just with two fingers of all things, unable to control his desires.

“You love fingerpussy that much, eh?” Marnie taunted. “A real man might fight back if a mean bitch told him to fap even girlier, but you just took it.”

Victor blushed deeply. He couldn’t defend himself.

The freshly fucked goth girl adjusted her position and drew closer to her pussyless spectator. Marnie hovered her crotch over Victor’s. Her hand reached for her newly widened folds, and pressed two of her fingers against her pussy lips, spreading them. The anonymous stud she’d just been fucking had blown so much inside her, just opening up her cunt slightly was enough to get cum to flow. Down the white liquid dribbled, raining from the confines of Marnie’s impregnated pussy onto the actionless little cocklette of her little boy toy. Even these few drops were enough to smother out all of Victor’s orgasm.

Marnie was still panting from her exhilarating encounter. “Look at that, huh? That’s what we call cum, sweetheart. It’s white and thick and full of wigglers waiting to work their way into a woman’s womb and put a baby in her. You know, something you’re incapable of doing.”

Victor was pumping harder just having that warm mix of pussy juice and manhood patter down on his dick.

The punk girl’s taunts continued. “You see princess, when boys have an orgasm, they don’t leak like a broken faucet like you. They nut. Their big, heavy balls squeeze tight and their long, hard shafts flex open and let nice, hot streams of manliness blast into a woman. That’s what makes you different from men. You remember that, right?”

Victor nodded. “Mhm! You’ve taught me what cum is before Ms. Marnie. You’ve had me clean it out of your private space many times…”

“Good! Smart for a bimbo.” She continued. “I just wanted to make sure that you knew cumming is something MEN do. It’s not something you do, with that little water gun of yours.”

Victor was so desperately hard. “Y-yes ma’am, I know! I’m a weak little princess who couldn’t ever satisfy a girl with my little clitty! That’s why I use my tongue instead!”

Something unexpected happened at that moment. Marnie’s perpetual dominant smirk skipped a beat. A slight blush and a tiny smile peeked out of her face.

Just that alone was enough to get Victor groaning and pumping away at his cum-covered cock furiously, totally uncaring about another man’s semen getting all over his hands.

Marnie’s insults came back, but with a smile on her face. “God, you’re pathetic~”

Victor came at the sound of her voice. To his surprise, as he fell back and humped oxygen with his spurting little clitty, he didn’t do so alone. Marnie loomed over him, then pinned him beneath her weight. Once again, his fat milky titties touched her chest. More cum from that man drooled out her leaky cunt onto his failure cocklette. Marnie was staring back at him, face to face.

A kiss. Victor had finally earned a kiss on the lips from his owner. He was so happy! It was even customized for a little cucky loser like himself, as Marnie forced a glob of that cum she’d snuck from her cunt to her mouth into Victor’s face.

Marnie broke away, a strand of white trailing from her princess’s lips. She fell back on the bed, leg’s spread wide. Now, she needed a break, and Victor needed some action fitting for a masculinity-void bitch bottom.

The next stranger came in, this time nearing the opposite end of the bed from Marnie where Victor was parked. The pathetic feminized cuckold planted his face into Marnie’s soiled pussy, and rose his bountiful feminine curves up high for the stranger.

It was the least he could do really! He owed women an apology for his failure to satisfy them. He owed men an apology for desecrating what it meant to be manly by association. He’d ask for forgiveness for one with his tongue. For the other, he’d let anyone use his pussy…

I assumed I couldn’t sleep because the strain of medical marijuana I use wasn’t effective for me (it wasn’t) but I got a new strain and I’m tired. I feel tired but I can’t get myself to sleep. It’s like my mind is buzzing to keep away those nasty flashbacks.. as soon as it quiets down I see him… I feel him. I just want to sleep.

03.10.21

survivor-positivity:

there isn’t a hierarchy of trauma. your experiences aren’t less important than anyone else’s

Next

Previous

AO3

Warning for blood/violent imagery.

based on @delimeful ‘s wonderful WIBAR AU

…

Flashes.

The arena, blood on his hands, of all different colors, teeth bared, trying, begging, the other aliens to stop, he doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but they don’t understand or don’t believe him, and then they’re lunging and instinct takes over, and when he blinks, it’s to a puddle of pepto pink ichor and a mangled body in his hands.

…

The cell, he’s back in the cell, and they’re coming, and he wasn’t ready and Patton isn’t hiding and the door opens, and he lunges, biting, scratching, kicking, screaming, the stun batons sending lightning through his veins, spasming his muscles, and he was aware of Patton’s scream, as he’s dragged away, his pretty blood splattering across the floor, and he’s beaten, shocked, kicked, all the while hearing Patton’s anguish as his feathers were stripped from him all over again, only this time, when they throw Patton back in his cell, his eyes are empty and blank, his body broken and still, and there’s nothing left of the chirping little ampen, and there’s nothing left of himself, as he loses his mind, ripping and tearing through the wall, tearing everything in his path to shreds until a blaster goes off and shoots a hole clean through his chest.

…

He’s running. He’s on an alien planet, and he’s running, and he can hear them behind him, they’re catching up, as he tears through the brush and the trees, leading them away, away, away, from camp, and he staggers as a dart hits his neck, the world spinning on it’s axis as he goes down hard. He can feel the chains being shackled around him, the collar fastened onto his neck, and he can’t even breathe, as electricity burns his skin, from the collar, sends him into unconsciousness, and when he wakes, he’s back in the cell. And the nightmare restarts.

…

“no…” He’s walking home, it’s late, the streetlights on, as he slinks through the shortcut through the park. He hates it, but it’s the fastest way home, and he’s never had any trouble, though he’s heard stories of people getting jumped.

“No…” He winces, at a sharp pain in his neck, for a moment thinking he’d been stung by a bee or a wasp, but when he reaches to feel, a small dart comes away in his hand. He stares at it, befuddled, before he feels another sting, stumbling against a tree as the world starts to tilt, trying to stay upright. Cloaked figures, shrouded figures, language he doesn’t know, and he tried to call out for help, tried to get away, but another wash of dizziness stole his breath, and he fainted.

When he woke up, he was on the ship, in the cell.

“NO!” He jolted upright, pulse racing, breath caught in his throat, the cell, the ship, he was on the ship, needle, needle in his arm, what were they taking this time? What else could they take, they were going to sell him for parts, maybe this was finally to off him for the scientists, he felt dizzy and lightheaded, weak, disoriented, maybe the tranq patch had worn off early, maybe he had a chance to get away, maybe-

A hand, a scaled hand came into view, and he hissed, scrambling backwards, falling off the edge of the furniture he was on. One second it was the sterile room, the iron bed, the suited figures, then it was a couch, smooth walls, soft light. His vision flicked between the two and he couldn’t figure out which was the truth and which was the lie, the suited figures turning towards him, batons out, crackling with energy, the scaled figure trying to reach out, trying to say something, but he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t and it burned, and he was dying, he was sure this is what dying felt like, as he scrambled further back, further away, hissing again as the tug pulled the needle out of his arm, pressing his hoodie sleeve against it to stop the bleeding, but the red, red, red, brought him right back, and it was everywhere, and there was too much, and it wasn’t all his, the bodies scattered across the floor, the colors blending like some macabre watercolor painting, swirling and blending and mixing and-

Touch. Touch against his shoulder. He’d curled into a ball, hands over his ears, forehead touching the floor, making himself as small as possible, trying to hide, but the noise was everywhere and they’d found him and he was going to die, going to be sold off for parts and he was so stupid-

Then the touch moved, a small, so small, hand slipping under his chin, gently tilting his head up, feathers tickling his skin, as he met those big, doe eyes. Feathers. Blue. Antennae, moth like. Fluffy. Safe.

Safe?

“Breathe, Virgil. Can you do that? In… out…” the words sounded so far away, and not quite in sync with the mouth movements, but he tried to follow them, tried to understand, tried to copy his movements. “good, kiddo. You’re doing good. Do you know who I am?” The feathery being asked, and his mind stalled. It must have shown on his face, because the being’s dropped, expression sad, and he hated that look on Patton’s face-

“Patton!” He rasped, voice barely a whisper, throat dry and sore, not helped from the hyperventilating he’d just been doing, from the panic attack. “Patton…” his eyes welled up, and he opened his arms, Patton flying into them without a second thought, hugging him as wide as he could around his chest, Virgil careful as he held him, letting his face rest against his soft feathers, mumbling an apology about getting them wet, met with Patton’s relieved little choked laugh.

He was shaking, he couldn’t stop shaking, the room still flickering, time and space folding in on itself, and it was making him dizzy.

Then Patton started doing the chirp, coo, pattern, vibrating against his chest, grounding him as he struggled to get his breathing under control, to force his mind to the present, but it wouldn’t stop slipping.

“s-sorry… I… I’m so-rry…”

“Shhh, you’re ok, kiddo, it’s ok.” He just shook his head, chest constricting, choking on the air, it burned in his lungs and made him want to scream, just to relieve some of the pressure, but there wasn’t enough air.

“virgil. Can you tell me, five things you can see? Take your time.” Logan, crouched down a fair distance away, to give him space.

“Y-you… patton… R-roman… the… the couch and the… the… n-needle" his breath caught again, his panic flaring, eating him up.

“Alright, good, stay with me, Virgil. Four things you can feel.”

“Pa-tton. My hoodie… the fl-floor. B-andages?” he asked, realizing his arms were carefully wrapped in them.

“you hurt yourself. Nothing serious, it’s alright. Three things you can hear.” He managed a deep breath in, forcing air in and out to answer.

“Chirp/coo.” He said, smiling slightly at Patton’s added little trill. “my h-eart, my voice.” He answered, focusing on the feeling of his hands against his hoodie, Patton’s warmth against him.

“Excellent. Two things you can smell?”

“Metal… myself" he wrinkled his nose slightly, smelling his own sweat.

“Last one, one thing you can taste.” Logan’s steady voice, and he thought for a moment.

“Copper.” He answered, looking up, finally, meeting Logan’s eyes for a brief moment, before his gaze flicked to Roman, who stood frozen by the couch, scales half raised in alarm, but also… worry?

“Virgil. How are you feeling?” Logan asked, snapping him back to attention, realizing he’d started to drift.

“um. Sore. Achy. Tired.” He answered, head thumping back against the wall, hissing as it hurt more than expected.

“I was going to warn you about that. We found you fallen over, unconscious on the bathroom floor, bleeding from your head. You’ve been severely ill, and mostly fitfully unconscious, for nearly seven days.” Logan explained.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were so sick!?” Patton scolded, though his voice was gentle.

“i… I didn’t want to bother you. I’ve been sick before. It’s… its fine.”

“no, it isn’t. Virgil. You are severely underweight and malnourished and sleep deprived, all factors that compromise your immune system making it more difficult to fight off disease and you very nearly died because you seemingly cannot comprehend that you are an important member of this crew and we will gladly help if you just ask for it!” He flinched at Logan shouting, his hands clenched into fists. He’d never heard Logan raise his voice, didn’t even know he could, but his mind snagged on what Logan had just said, and he shook his head.

“I… but I’m not. Important. You’re…a family. I’m just a tag along, because you were basically guilted into taking me with. You don’t… want me, here, and that’s fine, I wouldn’t want me here either, so the least I can do is take up the least space and use the least stuff and make myself as little of a nuisance as possible because then maybe I’ll get to stay longer before you get sick of me and kick me off.” Usually he wouldn’t be this candid, but he was tired, and he felt floaty and not all there, his normal anxiety not holding him back.

“Virgil… that’s not true.” Roman added, Virgil’s bitter laugh echoing harshly through the space.

“Sure it isn’t. You’ve made it clear, what you think of me. And you know what? I’m terrified, constantly, that you might be right. Sooner or later I’m going to hurt someone. It’s… it’s the only thing I’m good at, hurting people. Sometimes I think I should just bail, just leave a note and run, before I hurt anyone. Before I ruin it all. Before I ruin this… this amazing little family, you guys have.”

His eyes slipped closed, against his will, exhaustion weighing him down, settling into his bones from the panic attacks. “I w-want it so badly, it h-urts sometimes, but I can’t… I know I can’t have it. Be part of it. Know I’ll just… just be in the way.” He mumbled, not even sure if he was speaking aloud, anymore.

“Virg… we’ll talk about this later, ok? Just… can you make it back to the couch? You need more sleep.” Patton asked, moving off his chest. He nodded, managing to peel his eyes open, stumble to his feet, collapsing face down on the couch before blacking out as soon as his head hit the cushions.

…

“Well. His fever’s broken. There’s no point using these, any further.” Logan, trying to keep his voice steady as he packed up the IV line and supplies, considering hurling the needle out the airlock, just to spite the universe for forcing him to use it.

“I… I need to go. Think. About… things…” Roman poorly explained, darting from the room, as Patton sighed, feathers fluffing and resettling, worried gaze flicking between the doorway Roman had vanished down, Logan storing the medical supplies, and Virgil, face down on the couch. His forehead was a lot cooler, now, and his breathing finally seemed to be normal, deep, steady breaths. His eyes weren’t twitching in his sleep either, a good sign, Patton had learned early on that eye twitches meant bad dreams, nightmares. That was when he would curl up around Virgil’s head and churr softly, a low, rumbling vibration in his chest, that he used to soothe kits, but it also seemed to do the trick on the human. Most of the ampen soothing methods did, which he would have once considered odd, since they relied on empathy to work. But if anything, Virgil had too much empathy, his words playing back in Patton’s mind.

“He thinks we don’t care. We don’t… don’t consider him family, why would he… after everything, still think that?” Patton asked softly, looking up at Logan’s sigh.

“He’s been hurt, Patton. Deeply, psychologically, hurt. He’s so used to being in fight or flight mode, that is all his body knows how to do. His body, his mind, it doesn’t understand, can’t comprehend, safety. And after… after what he went through, how they demeaned him and treated him like a wild animal, like a… a specimen, it’s no wonder that he struggles to comprehend his own self worth, lacks any sense of self esteem or importance. He had to fight every day just to survive, just to keep you safe, and though I am thankful for it, it likely has contributed to his fear of himself. He knows how easily he could hurt any one of us.”

“He won’t though! He’d rather tear himself apart than hurt any of us.” Patton protested.

“I know, Patton. But he clearly doesn’t. He doesn’t take care of himself, he doesn’t trust himself, Patton, and until he starts doing that, understanding that he is wanted and loved and safe, I’m afraid he won’t take care of himself.”

“Then we’ll make sure he does. I will physically fight him.” Patton muttered, determination clear in every bristling feather, and Logan chuckled slightly, shaking his head.

“I would enjoy watching you take down a human, Patton, especially since Virgil would let you, but violence is not going to help in this situation.”

“Still. If he won’t take care of himself, I’m going to make him take care of himself.” He ruffled Patton’s head as he passed the couch, barely containing his smile at the small squeak the motion illicited, stopping at a small tug of his hand.

“Lo? Thank you. For getting him through.” He softened, looking back at Patton, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Of course, Patton. Get some more sleep, now that he’s safe, won’t you?” Patton nodded, drawing away and circling a couple times before settling down curled around Virgil’s head, careful to keep a layer of blanket between them, so he wouldn’t accidentally siphon off energy in his sleep. Virgil needed all of it he could get.

@fortheloveofjanus

Next

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AO3

based on @delimefulwibar

Warning for some disturbing imagery/body horror this chapter. Virgil’s having nightmares.

…

Fear.

Pounding, aching fear.

Shadowy figures surrounded him, discussing him in words he could almost hear, hushed voices he could almost understand, and it grated at him, it hurt his ears. He tried to cover them, but found he couldn’t move, not a muscle, his eyes were open but he couldn’t even blink, his fingers wouldn’t even twitch, and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest, but despite his panic his breathing remained steady and even. The shadows moved closer, their whispers growing louder, echoing in his head, screaming tempests against his ear drums, and he wanted it to stop, he needed it to stop, but it just grew louder, and louder, and then it was the suited beings again, holding a scalpel, and he screamed, as his chest was sliced open, the flesh peeled away to reveal the organs beneath, his heart visible through the blood leaking from him, and he realized though he was screaming in his mind, he wasn’t making any sound, his vocal chords as paralyzed as the rest of him, and he couldn’t look away, as they started ripping out his insides, tearing him apart, the pain splintering through his being, blacking out his vision, and he tried, he tried desperately to writhe and claw and fight his way free, but couldn’t even lift his head, and he was aware of them adding new parts, shoving metal and wires and circuit boards into him, the pop and crackle of electricity against his skin shocking him, sending him into spasms that somehow defied whatever drug they’d given him, back arching at the intense, radiating heat flowing up his spine, and he finally did break free, break out of whatever drug they’d used, a keening, desperate wail shoving past his lips as he shoved himself off the table, as he snarled and clawed and bit and slashed, anything, everything, to get free, until he’d fought off the beings, his breathing ragged and uneven as he looked at the monster they’d made him, all mechanical parts and twisted limbs, broken bones and spasming muscle.

“Virgil?” Suddenly a shadow Logan was there, looking down at him, head tilted and eyes empty, hands strangely still, assessing him like the specimen he was and he shuddered, twitching uncontrollably.

“No. That isn’t Virgil.” Patton, voice hollow, and he screamed again, because his feathers were torn from his body, bent and broken nibs trickling blood down his wings, though he didn’t seem to care. “Virgil wouldn’t do this to me. And he did.” He shook his head, trying to deny it, but memories rushed back, his hands, moving against his will, the metal twisting around his bones, jerking him around like a marionette, Patton, begging, pleading, but he couldn’t stop, the single thought in his mind echoing destroy, destroy, destroy. His hands, ripping handfuls of feathers, feathers flying around the room, getting stuck in his grinning teeth, his manic laugh, his twisted soul.

“No… nonononono…” He curled tight on the ground, ignoring the fire racing through him, the intense, burning, heat, trying to make sense of this, of anything, noticing for the first time his hands were stained red, seeing Patton’s agonized face in his head, his hands on his throat, pressing down, down down-

“Virgil!” Roman’s voice rocked his world, and suddenly his eyes snapped open, hissing at the sudden brightness, too confused to understand anything, vision blurry, from tears, he realized, his breathing stuttering in and out, barely enough to keep from passing out, his throat tight, barely a pinhole of space for air to wheeze in and out of, his chest felt so tight, so constricted, and there wasn’t enough air, and he was hot, why was he so hot, the wires, the wires twisting through his veins, no, he had to get them out, they would make him hurt them, hurt Patton, he couldn’t hurt Patton!

He started scratching at himself, clawing at himself frantically, uncaring of the wetness slipping down his face, he had to stop it, he couldn’t-

Bloody feathers, crushed neck, broken wings, shattered body, he couldn’t-

Hands. Hands on him. He hissed, growled, tried to shove them away, but he was weak, so weak, he couldn’t do anything, couldn’t get away, and they were stopping him, and he was going to hurt everyone, he had to let go, he had to stop himself, he was just a monster, just a toy, just a broken sack of bits and pieces that didn’t even fit together right anymore, why couldn’t they just let him stop?

“please. Please, I can’t, I can’t, I won’t, i… i…” He doubled over, curled into a ball, shaking so hard his teeth were chattering, feeling as if he was shattering into a thousand pieces, broken and stomped on and wrecked.

“kiddo. I need you to breath.” He flinched back, away from Patton, eyes wide with fear, shaking his head frantically, as he scooted away, the grip on his hands letting him go.

“n-no… no! I’ll h-hurt y-y-you they’ll m-make me h-h-hurt-“ he broke off, running out of air, all of it dedicated to keeping the spots in his vision from growing larger, from taking over and plunging him into black.

“virgil. You have never, never ever, hurt me. And they can’t hurt us, anymore. Do you remember that? We’re safe now, remember? You broke us out of there, and kept us safe. You’re safe, Virgil. We’re safe. We’re ok. We’re ok.” Patton repeated softly, using the gentle chirp of his native tongue, ruffling encouragingly when Virgil finally looked up at him, struggling for a few moments, before tentatively chirping it back.

“We’re… we’re… ok.” He echoed slowly, tongue thick in his mouth, head pounding, it hurt to think, it hurt to do anything, but he forced his mind to remember, to remember what he was missing, flashes of a slim, multi armed figure, of a bulky, scaled one, of a… a ship, and he managed a slightly larger, shaky breath.

“M-Mindscape?” He managed, and Patton nodded, eyes soft with worry.

“That’s right, kiddo. You got sick, do you remember that?” He remembered feeling not great, but that was normal. He remembered being dizzy, but that was all. He shook his head, feeling confused again, feeling slow and tired and hazy.

“That’s ok, Virgil. I just wanna help, ok? Will you let me do that?” Patton asked, taking a small step closer. “Will you let me help?” His gaze flicked to the others in the room, pulling at a dull memory, at familiarity, he knew them, knew them and they didn’t spark… fear. Not quite. But the scaled one’s gaze was sharp and angry, and the crystal one’s gaze was sharp and piercing, and both sent unease tingling down his spine. But Patton was asking, and he trusted Patton, and if Patton trusted them, then they couldn’t be bad.

“O-o-Ok.” He managed, letting out a soft sigh when Patton closed the distance between them, resting a hand on his leg, and instantly, the fight and stress drained out of him, eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re gonna be ok, kiddo. I promise.” Then nothing.

…

“He’s hotter, Lo.” Patton said, voice shaking, as he felt Virgil’s forehead. Sweat coated his skin, and he was panting for breath, shaking, obviously in pain, not just from the lines of red up and down his arms, where he’d started clawing at himself, before Roman stopped him. “he’s getting worse.“

“We need to get him to drink. He’s severely dehydrated. I… hate to suggest this, but IVs may be the best option here. I know, it will cause added emotional strain, but his body does not have the strength or resources right now to fight off this illness. And I’d rather have him be upset or afraid than… than dead.” His words caused Patton to draw in his feathers, shrinking to nearly half his normal size, and he buried his face against Virgil’s side. Roman’s scales shifted, scraping against each other as they flattened, conflicting emotions racing through him.

He didn’t like Virgil. Didn’t trust him, wouldn’t have him here, if it had been up to him, but the thought of him… dying, still sent a spike of unease through him, one he could pretend was just for Patton, who was so attached to Virgil.

“ok. If it’s the only way, ok.”

He disinfected and bandaged Virgil’s arms first, before letting Roman shift him back onto the couch, fetching the medical supplies and hooking up the bags. Finally, he was standing over Virgil with the IV line in hand. All he had to do was insert it. He found himself incredibly resistant, now, to the idea, now that he actually was doing this, mind flashing to the moments he’d seen in the vidi, the pain and agony that had accompanied nearly every experience with a needle, but this was different. This was to help.

So he swiftly located the vein on the human’s wrist, slipping the needle in and securing it with gauze and tape, relieved when Virgil did no more than moan slightly, rolling onto his side and curling into a ball. He doubted the reaction would be so placid when he actually woke up to find a needle in his arm, but that was a future worry.

“Alright. That should help hydrate him, as well as give him some of the basic nutrients he is sorely lacking in, as well as some very moderate medicines. I doubt anything we have would do him any harm, but I don’t want to take chances and accidentally make things worse. Patton… you need to sleep.” He added, looking at the disheveled ampen, who shook his head.

“No, no, no! I have to stay! What if he wakes up?”

“He won’t for a few hours, at the very least, which is long enough for you to get some sleep. You haven’t slept since we found him.”

“Well neither have you! You’ve been pacing yourself silly!” He sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Alright. You’re right. If Roman stays on watch and promises to get us if anything changes, will you come rest with me?” he asked, knowing Patton wouldn’t turn down that offer, not with how rarely he was willing to offer tactile comfort, but they could both use some, right now.

“Ro? I know you don’t like him, but-”

“I’ll take care of him. I promise, Patton.” Roman swore, kneeling down so Patton could hug him, smiling as he butted against the underside of his chin, before stepping back, chirping an ampen thanks, hesitantly following Logan down the hall and into his room, Roman hearing the door slide shut.

He let out a low breath, scales flattening as he tried to calm himself, staring down at Virgil’s unconscious form.

“I don’t know what to make of you. I will never say this out loud again, but you terrify me. And I will not lose another family, to humans. But… every time you panic or lose control or lash out, it’s always at yourself. It’s always to protect Patton. You always choose to harm yourself over any of us, but you’re still a human, a death worlder, a dangerous, violent, creature.” He said, though it sounded much less convincing now, that it usually did in his arguments with Logan or his silent fuming.

Virgil moved slightly, his breath hitching, and his face creased, as if sensing Roman’s displeasure.

“no… please… m-mom…” Virgil mumbled, trying to reach out to something that wasn’t there, something only in his mind, and after a moment, Roman realized Virgil was crying, curling tighter.

He’d known Virgil had been stolen off his planet, but he’d never thought about the implications of it. He hadn’t considered that Virgil had clan, would have a mother or a father, that he’d lost everything, to aliens, without even having a chance to fight to keep it.

Roman knew how it felt, to lose everything, in the blink of an eye.  

“and then you go and say something like that.” He sighed, shifting into the chair left beside the couch, hesitantly reaching out to brush back the human’s hair, mimicking the motion he’d seen Patton do countless times, to soothe or relax the human, surprised as Virgil instantly settled, a shaky breath escaping him before his body seemed to go lax once more, leaning into his touch.

“this doesn’t mean I like you. It’s only because I promised Patton.” He grumbled, not moving away, despite himself.

Set in @delimeful ’s wonderful WIBAR AU. Virgil gets sick, and the others struggle to help him, not only with his illness, but the clear underlying emotional issues.

Next

AO3

…

It was quiet, on the Mindscape.

Logan was reading, absently twirling his fingers and hands as he studied, recording information, though he was certain most of it would prove false, as it was the little that was reported about humans. Most were comparable to ghost stories or urban legends, but there were a few that seemed more credible, that he hoped would give some more insight into humans in general.

Roman was off working out somewhere, sparring, he insisted it was just to keep sharp, but they all knew it was because he didn’t trust the human on board not to go feral and kill them any second, despite Virgil’s rather shy and withdrawn personality. Still, at least he was getting his aggression out elsewhere, and not by actually fighting or snarking at the true object of his emotions. He was doing better, still, Logan would give him that, but there was a long way to go.

He could hear Patton pitter pattering about in the kitchen, chirping and warbling to himself, making his lips twitch up into a smile. It had been far too quiet, without the little Ampen aboard, too much silence to drown in. It was a comfort he hadn’t realized he’d grown accustomed to, hearing Patton hum and chirp and sing all day. Now it was also a relief, a steady reminder their friend was back home, safe and sound, and he frowned again, thinking of how close they had come to losing him for good. That they would have, had it not been for Virgil.

Speaking of…

“Patton?” He asked, stepping into the kitchen, the Ampen stopping his trilling as he set the kettle on the stove, giving him one of his warm, happy smiles, that seemed to actually light up the room.

“Yeah, Lo? Everything ok?” Patton’s antennae twitched slightly, and he focused back on the present.

“Yes, I believe so, I was simply wondering if you’d seen Virgil today. He is usually awake by now. I was hoping to discuss some… perhaps sensitive topics, that I picked up on during our vidi.”

It was true. He hadn’t seen much, with how fast it had all turned, and spiraled out of hand, and though Virgil and him had been having question and answer sessions, the ones he really wanted to ask seemed more… personal. So, he’d kept them to himself, and simply continued his observations, and studied up on the information available to him.

And what he’d noticed was… concerning, to say the least. He was certain the human wasn’t sleeping enough. Unlike most species, humans could run on limited sleep for an extended period of time, but he was slowly becoming aware that just because humans had the capability to do something, didn’t mean it was natural or good for them to do it. They could survive grievous injuries that would have killed any other species, but it came at great physical and mental cost. They could survive intense radiation, but they would sicken slowly and die. They could imbibe substances that a single sip would be deadly to himself, but even in small amounts, it inhibited a human’s survival instincts and weakened them.

So just because Virgil was running on, at his best guess, four to five hours of sleep a day, didn’t mean that was anywhere near the healthy range of a human’s normal requirements. He’d noticed some of the side effects so commonly, he’d thought they simply were how humans were, until the Vidi gave him glimpses at others, who lacked the bags under their eyes, the deep bruising, that Virgil always had. Virgil was often unsteady on his feet, “light headed” he called it, he often stared out into space for minutes at a time, without registering anything that was said or happening around him, he ran into things, doorframes, corners of furniture, he stumbled and often had to lean against something to regain his balance.

The other issue was his diet. Logan was absolutely certain that Virgil was not eating nor drinking enough. With his permission, he’d taken his heart rate, he’d calculated how many calories his body must burn, at the least, throughout a day. With no physical activity, no exertion, the very base level of sleep, Virgil was missing at least hundreds, if not nearly a thousand, necessary calories, and that was if he were in a relaxed state, which he never was. The human was endlessly jumpy and frightened and twitchy, and he had admitted that his heart rate was much higher than it should be, most of the time, due to his constant state of high alert. But despite this, he ate nearly the least at meals, always pushing food around his place, making excuses to take small portions, at least half the time Logan was certain he hadn’t eaten at all until he was forced to at their daily dinner together, and only then because he didn’t want to upset Patton. Based on his limited understanding, Virgil was immensely underweight and incredibly sleep deprived, both dangerously unhealthy states for humans.

“oh! I peeked in on him a bit ago. He’d just woke up, said he was going to take a shower. I’m kinda surprised he isn’t out here yet.” Patton frowned, his feathers fluffing in distress.

“I see. I’ll go check on him, Patton. Save me a cup?” He smiles as Patton’s face lights up again, only half surprised as Patton jumps at him, hugging him. He carefully supports the Ampen, holding him close, allowing his head to rest against Patton’s small, fluffy shoulder.

“Thanks, Lo. For looking out for him.” Patton mumbled, as Logan let him go, setting him back down on the counter.

“Of course, Patton. It’s the least I can do. He deserves to not only be safe, but feel safe. I am happy to help make that happen.” Patton’s feathers pulsed his trademark light blue, a sign of happiness, that made Logan’s hands flutter, trying to record the warmth in his chest, as he turns away.

…

He woke up with a groan, pushing the cupboard door open, jumping as his door opened, hitting his head against the back of the cupboard at the sudden movement, breath speeding wildly, before he registered Patton’s head poking in, concerned eyes on him.

“Hey, kiddo. Just checking in. Everything ok?” He sighed, but pushed back his exhaustion, summoning a small smile, making it as reassuring and genuine as possible, not difficult, faced with a small ball of fluff.

“I’m alright, Pat. Just catching up on some zee’s. Was gonna go shower.” Patton nodded, hopping into his arms for a quick snuggle, before chirping a happy goodbye and vanishing out the door.

He slumped back against the pylon behind him with another groan, rubbing his hands across his face, then up into his hair, wincing as he felt his hair stick straight up, matted with sweat. He’d stayed in bed far later than usual, but he hadn’t slept more. The night had been plagued with nightmares and sleep paralysis, filling him with terror so deep he couldn’t even scream, could merely panic until he passed out once more, tossing and turning restlessly.

He felt shivery, cold, and his head spun just a bit as he stood, his stomach turning at the motion, vertigo rocking him as he leaned against the wall for a moment, trying to get his bearings.

“fine. I’m fine.” He muttered, taking a few deep breaths in and out, before making his way to the door, listening for a few moments to make sure he couldn’t hear Roman anywhere nearby, he didn’t think he could handle the Crav’n in his current state.

Which was normal and healthy and perfectly fine. He had to be fine.

He made it to the bathroom with minimal stumbling, his vision barely swimming in and out, as he stripped, and turned on the water, hot enough it would probably burn any other members of their little band, but he just sighed in relief as he stepped in, letting the water run over him, soothe the aches building in his muscles. He let out a sigh, halfheartedly scrubbing at his hair, zoning out as he watched the steam.

As he watched, it seemed to form a shape, to swirl into a nebulous form, and his breathing stuttered, heart stopping, as he stared in fear at the suited figure, one of his captors, a needle stabbing down towards him, and he flinched back, the world blurring and swirling and fading out around him, static roaring through his ears, his heart racing as static filled his vision as well. Distantly, he heard knocks, someone maybe calling his name, then he felt his legs give out, his head hit something hard, and the world went black.

…

“Virgil? Are you alright?” He heard a loud thump, a crash, and his eyes widened, knocking again. “Virgil? If you do not answer me, I am going to enter. Virgil!” Nothing. He threw open the door, breath catching, freezing in place at the sight.

Virgil was sprawled across the bathroom floor, unconscious. His breathing seemed somewhat labored and shallow, and he could hear the slight wheeze to it from the doorway. What caught his eye first were the endless collection of scars, all across his body, covering nearly every inch of his skin, and it turned his stomach, it made him sick, the level of trauma and abuse Virgil must have endured. He’d known it wasn’t good, known he’d been a lab rat, an experiment, a being to harvest then sell off the parts once he was drained dry, but knowing it and seeing the scars, the marks of old burns from the stun batons, was something else entirely. And nothing Virgil had said had indicated the violence against him to be to this extent. He felt another surge of appreciation, for Virgil having protected Patton.

The second thing, that finally forced him into motion, was the small pool of red forming around the human’s head, likely where the back of his skull had impacted with the floor. Quickly, he grabbed a towel from off the rack, and rolled Virgil onto his side, wiping away the blood from his neck and hair, to see where to apply the pressure. He breathed a sigh of relief as he located the wound, surprisingly small, given the amount of blood loss, and he was confident a few moments of pressure would easily stop it.

“ROMAN!” He shouted with all his might, voice shaking and unsteady, hearing the crashing footsteps of the Crav’n immediately, the being sliding into the doorway mere moments later, scales raised to their extremes, teeth bared, ready to fight, no doubt hoping for an excuse to fight the human.

“Logan? What’s-“ Patton darts in around Roman’s legs, eyes widening as he instantly is at Virgil’s side, trembling, eyes wide as saucers.

“I need help. Roman, he’s heavy, I need-“

“Ok. Ok, teach, I got you. Let’s get him dressed, then I’ll move him to the couch. What’s… what happened?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I knocked and heard a crash, when I entered, he was like this. I suspect it has something to do with his malnutrition and sleep deprivation.” He answered, focusing on carefully pulling Virgil’s hoodie over his head, hands clenching sharply as one brushes his forehead. “he’s burning up.”

“That’s what happens when he’s… when he’s sick. Humans get all hot and shivery and sometimes their stomach hurts and they can’t eat. But that only happened on the… on the ship. When… when it was really bad.” His voice wavered, feathers flattening.

“I would suspect that he has been feeling ill for a couple of days now, if it’s grown severe enough to make him pass out. His normal temperature is around 98.6 to 99, I would estimate his to be closer to one hundred and three. Has he seemed off to you, Patton?”

“He’s spent less time with me. Less time out of his room. I thought he just needed some space, but… but he was trying to hide he was sick, wasn’t he?”

“Why would he do that? Did he think we’d just abandon him like some deathworlder would an injured comrade?” Roman snorted disdainfully, helping pull pants onto the human, though Patton could see the concern hiding behind his outrage.

“Contrarily, he probably didn’t want to be a burden. To use up more of our resources and time. He constantly sees himself as lesser, as the least important of the group, therefore the one who should take up the least space, least time, least amount of food. Surely, you’ve noticed, Roman.”

“I…hadn’t. I’ll take him now, Pat.” He mumbled softly, gently shooing him back as he scooped Virgil into his arms, surprised at how light the human was, his head lolling limply against his chest, his cheeks flushed, while the rest of his face was even paler than usual. He could feel the frantically rapid beat of his heart, his eyes flicking uneasily under their lids, and his scales flattened in concern. As much as he didn’t trust the human, he didn’t want to see him hurting, either. And if what Logan said was true, Virgil had not only been hurting, but hurting himself, out of, what? Loyalty? Worry? He just couldn’t get a handle on him.

Then again, he hadn’t tried very hard to get to know him, or to give him a chance. But there was something in seeing him so vulnerable, without the usual piercing stare and silent slink, that made him soften a bit, made him remember that despite being one of the most fearsome creatures in the universe, that Virgil was essentially a child, by human standards. He was so thin, too. He could count his bones, under that hoodie. No wonder he was always cold, he had no layer of fat on his bones.

And those scars…

Well. It was enough to almost make him rethink his view on Virgil, at least, as he laid him down on the couch in the common area, Patton immediately taking a seat by his head, brushing his hands soothingly through Virgil’s hair, as the human shook, muttering something in his sleep that was undecipherable, though the tone of fear was impossible to miss, as his hand clenched against the fabric.

“We need to break his fever. Blankets, Roman? I’ll get you a washcloth and water for his forehead, Patton. If he wakes, he is likely to be disoriented or possibly even hallucinate, because of the fever. However, I have no doubt he will calm immensely upon registering your presence. You are… his lifeline, Patton.” Patton nodded, continuing to focus on Virgil, doing the coo chirp pattern used to soothe babies, one of the first things Virgil had mimicked back to him, back on that awful ship.

“He’ll… he’ll be ok, right? He just needs some sleep and he’ll be okay?” His voice trembled, and Logan’s hands clasped behind his back, eyes darting as he looked for the right words to say.

“I don’t know. There’s so little information, Patton, I keep looking and there’s just… not enough, to help him, in any meaningful way. There’s no way of knowing if this is just a ‘flu’ or if it is something more severe. I know his heart rate is high and his breathing rasping, but I don’t know if that’s the result of the illness or simply stress, I would give him medicine, but I don’t know what he can have, what would be helpful, and I don’t know what to do if it’s something we aren’t equipped to handle!” He exploded, pacing the floor somewhat frantically, hands flailing wildly, wincing as one smacked the wall. “I don’t know what to do, but wait.” He said, softer, taking a deep breath and rubbing at his hand, looking up as Roman came to stand before him, gently patting one of his arms.

“It’s ok, Lo. No one expects you to have all the answers. We know you’ll do your best. You always do.” Logan nodded, pulling himself together somewhat, striding off to the kitchen, Roman heading down the hall to raid the extra blankets from the closets.

“you’ll be ok, kiddo. I promise.” Patton murmured, nuzzling against Virgil’s cheek, giggling as Virgil mumbles again, leaning into his touch, hand unclenching, face relaxing minutely. When Logan came back, he huffed fondly, Patton curled up against Virgil’s shoulder, just a ball of puffed up blue feathers, pulsing soothingly.

Next

Previous

AO3

…

He looks up at the sound of quiet footsteps coming down the ramp, only half surprised to see Virgil, who wraps a blanket around his shoulders, before sitting down beside him with his own, head deep in his hood, dark eyes shining as he looks up at the stars.

“How is he?” Comes the soft question. Patton looks up at the stars as well, a soft breath escaping his lips.

“Lost. It must be terrifying, to go from having no choices, no power to make your own decisions, to having complete control over your life. He doesn’t know how to use that, anymore. Doesn’t know what to do with it all, what to do with himself.” Virgil huffs, arms wrapping around his knees.

“Yeah. I was… a bit like that. When I first joined up with you. It seems silly, now, that I was ever scared of you, Pat, but I was. I was terrified, what would happen, when you found me.”

…

He hadn’t been invited on board. Patton and Logan hadn’t even known he was on board. They’d had a brief stopover, to refuel, on his home planet, spent barely twenty minutes there, total, at the small waystation, not many people enjoyed spending time near the presence of wraiths.  

Virgil himself included.

He doesn’t know, still doesn’t know, how he found the courage to sneak aboard, when no one was looking, it wasn’t all that hard, he just slipped into the shadows and slipped into the hold, trying desperately to contain his fear so it wouldn’t spiral out and affect anyone else, so it wouldn’t seep through to them, so they wouldn’t notice anything amiss.

He hated the planet, after all. Hated the cold cruelty of the place, the eerie darkness, the icy fear always trickling down his spine. They fed off negativity, off fear, and there was no one easier to scare and frighten and torment than him. No one to protect him, from the others. No one to stay for. He saw a way out, and he took it, intending to simply slip off at the next stop, whatever that was, and find a way for himself, maybe beg, do simple chores for pay, do something. He hadn’t intended to be found.

He’d been hiding out for maybe a week, in the storage hold. He was cold and hungry and tired, huddled in the corner, behind some crates, curled around himself, shaking. He’d felt fuzzy and strange, and realized that was probably due to the whole not eating thing, but he couldn’t find the bravery to go scope out, to scrounge for food, he just had to hope they’d set down soon.

An arm on his shoulder had woken him. He’d screamed, hoarse and cracked, woken out of his light, fitful sleep, warm hands on him, and he was afraid, waiting to be thrown into a nightmare, into whatever hell world they’d chosen this time, curling tighter, arms coming up to cover his head in the meager defense he could provide for himself.

“please… please don’t… please… s-sorry, s-sorry…”

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s ok, I’m not gonna hurt you, kiddo. You’re burning up, when was the last time you ate anything?” He’d shrugged, scared out of his mind, breath speeding, because he was caught, he’d been caught, and what were they going to do with him?

“dunno. L-last st-op. Imma… wraith.” He mumbled, waiting for the fear, the derision, the pain.

“Oh, baby. Can we get you upstairs?”

“What… what’re y-ou gonna do, w-ith m-me?”

“Get some food in you, to start, and some water. Then get you all cozy on the couch, with plenty of blankets and pillows, something to bring down that fever of yours.”

“Y-you’re not m-m-mad?”

“Of course not. You were scared enough to stow away, to leave your own planet behind and hide out in a ship you had no idea how friendly or cruel the occupants of it were. I think that speaks for itself, kiddo. I’m not mad. I just wanna help, ok?” Patton had asked, and he’d hesitated for a long moment, before nodding.  

“O-ok.” He’d realized his teeth were chattering, flinching as he felt arms around him, lifting him gently, as he passed out.

It had taken him a long, long time, to open up to any of them, to say anything without prompting, really, he was quiet and meek and half shadows, most of the time, unable to keep his form physical with the endless fear creeping through him. No one was allowed to touch him. Not even Patton. Any sudden movement sent him tearing from the room, and he spent most of his own time locked in his own, still convinced that they would send him back, jettison him off, kick him off at the next planet and never look back.

It was Logan, oddly enough, that wore him down. He always said what he thought, always pointed out the obvious, always answers with the truth, no matter how hurtful or blunt it is. That pure… obliviousness… to the concept of deception, was what finally convinced him, that they truly did want to help, wanted to let him have his space, wanted to just… be there.

He’d never had kindness before. He didn’t understand, kindness. He didn’t understand why they were being so nice to him, when he hadn’t done anything besides flinch and hide and recoil from their touches, their gazes, their attentions.

That’s what had led to him sitting on the middle of his bed, huddled in his blankets, shaking as he sobbed, not looking up at the soft knock on his door, letting out something that might have been a strangled ‘come in’. For once, he didn’t flinch away, as Patton entered the room, as he sat down on the very edge of the bed, looking at him with soft concern and warm care, and he just… broke. He fell into Patton’s arms and just broke.

…

He comes out of his own thoughts at Patton slipping a hand into his, and he smiles wryly up at the moon, shaking his head.

“sorry. Just…” He trails off with a sigh, closing his eyes for a long moment, trying to steady himself.

“I know, Vee. They’ve come so far, already. And you… I’m so proud of you, Virgil. I really, really am.” He looks away, face red, hiding the small smile in the blanket around his head, smile growing as Patton rests his head on his shoulder, nuzzling against him.

“Pat, you’re making it really hard for me to nostalgically mope.” He mutters, Patton laughing softly against him.  

“Good.” Patton says, wings uncurling and stretching out behind him as he yawns.

“Should you head in, Pat?” He asks, amusement coloring his tone, as Patton shakes his head.

“Roman wanted to stay outside. I wanna let him get as much fresh air as possible. aThey’ve been… confined, for too long, Virg. They’ve been through so much, I just wanna let him have whatever he needs.” Virgil smiles fondly, laying his blanket on the ground behind Patton.

“Alright. Lay down.” He orders, gently pushing Patton’s shoulder, who goes over with little resistence, a little giggle, stretching one wing out, resting Roman atop it, curling his other wing over him as he lays down, holding him close, Roman’s hands gently curling into his feathers, nuzzling against them, snuggling into the softness. He smiles as Virgil tucks the other blanket tight around them, before leaning down and kissing the top of his head softly.

“I’ll keep watch, Pat. Sweet dreams.” In the blink of an eye, Virgil vanishes into the shadows, though Patton knows he hasn’t gone far.

“G’night, Virg. Love you.” He mumbles, already slipping asleep as the cozy warmth seeps into his bones.

…

He wakes up screaming. For the first time in a little over three years, he wakes up screaming, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth, swallowing down the sound, choking on it, praying no one else has heard him, he doesn’t want to bother them, and he buries his head in his hands, trying to get a grip, because it wasn’t real, he knows it wasn’t real.

The white hospital bed. Firm, cold shackles against his upper arms and wrists, holding them tight to the armrests of the chair. An IV in his arm, pumping him full of vitamins and minerals and a mild sedative, something to keep him still against the sharp stings of pain as they carefully peel off every scale. He watches in quiet, morbid, fascination, as his arms turn from gold to crimson, as he starts to shiver, even the heating light they have on above him not enough to keep him warm, against the blood loss.

It’s still another hour before he’s hazing in and out of awareness, another half hour before they call a stop, binding his injuries with curt, steady motions, guiding him back to his small room, nothing more than white walls, floors, ceiling, a hard bed, a warm blanket, it must be night, because the uv rays are off, as they emotionlessly deposit him on the bed, as always, locking the door behind them without a word.

Tomorrow they’ll take more scales, until he doesn’t have any left. He’ll be sick and shaking and unable to keep any food down, they’ll hook him to more IVs to keep him alive, until his scales start to regrow and just when he’s starting to feel alright again, they’ll pluck him clean once more.

That’s his life. That’s all it’ll ever be. A sickly, half conscious life, hazed over with fever and pain, dying slowly from lack of contact, lack of socialization, lack of touch.

…

A knock on his door has him jolting, a strange foreboding in his chest, a tightness to his lungs, and he hears someone speaking, but they sound a million miles away, and he’s petrified, he can’t seem to move a single muscle, he’s frozen in place, though his mind is screaming at him, to do something, anything, he can’t, as his vision swims, he can’t.

All he can hear is the chiming tone that tells him its time to get up for the day, to put on his loose, white clothing, to quietly eat his meal, to sit on the bed and wait silently for them to come retrieve him, to keep his eyes down and his hands in front of him, to make no motion until told, otherwise they’ll be forced to retaliate to protect themselves, regardless of whether he’s attacking or not.

He’s never attacking. He’s too scared, too well trained, to attack, to try anything, at this point, he knows it would be useless. Even if he bit one, two of them, sent them shaking and convulsing to the ground, there would be more, and he can’t fight through them all, can’t make it out of this facility, wherever it is, doesn’t even know if they’re on a planet or drifting in space, and there’s no point to resisting. Better to be compliant and meek and do as he’s told.

Another soft knock, voice a bit louder, more concerned, gives him enough, shocks his mind, his system enough to break out of his stupor, to move, to stumble, stagger, trip over his own feet through a tilted, spinning world speckled with dark spots, to make it to the door, fumbling with the locks before finally managing to undo them, knowing that voice will somehow make this better, will somehow keep all of that from happening, will somehow get him out of here, where there’s no space and air and light and he can’t breathe or see or speak.

The door opens and he falls, though warm arms catch him, the voice inhales sharply, speaking, though he still can’t hear, he should be able to hear him, he can get the sense of what he’s saying, but not the words, and dimly he registers the arms moving, scooping him up, off the ground, and he clings to the voice, as they carry him somewhere else, somewhere open, more space, before sitting down, though not letting go.  

He registers counting, a slow, steady rhtym, one he knows, one he uses, one he tries to emulate now, in fits and starts, feeling a hand softly running up and down his arm, shivering as it touches his scales, phantom pain making him flinch, and the movement stops.

“N-no… D-d-don’t…” He can’t choke out more than that, but they seem to understand, resuming their gentle up and down motion, especially light and gentle over his scales, slowly soothing him, because no one besides his crew, his friends, his family, are allowed to touch them, and only they have ever been this gentle with him, and as his breathing finally starts to even, his heart rate starts to beat normally, copying the rhythm it can feel from the warm body pressed against his, his vision starts to clear, and he slumps forwards, the tension leaking out of him as he presses his head into Logan’s chest, trembling as he takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“Janus?” Comes the soft, quiet question, and he nods, even that motion takes too much effort, too much energy, but he summons his words anyway.

“yes. ‘M here.” He mumbles, feeling Logan’s own relieved breath, his arms wrapping securely around his back, holding him close, as he realizes tears are slipping down his cheeks, unbidden. “sorry. Didn’t… didn’t mean to wake you.” Logan shushes him, slowly rocking him back and forth.

“No. I’m sorry. I should have realized, today’s events would be triggering. One of us should have checked up on you, after you settled Remus.” He shivers, folding tighter against Logan, exhaustion from the fading adrenaline and panic attack shattering his normal walls.

“If he hadn’t been there… Lo, if he hadn’t-“ He breaks off, choking on his words, on his fear. “I can’t do it again. I c-can’t… I didn’t know, then, but I do, now, and I c-can’t-“

“Shh, shh, shh, I know, I know, Janus. But you don’t have to. You will never, never have to go through that again. You’re safe, you’re safe, Janus, and we, I, will never let that happen to you again. I promise.” Logan murmurs, gently running his thumb in circles against Janus’s cheek, the other wrapped around his waist to keep him steady. “I promise. I’m not letting go, alright? Get some rest. I’ll keep anything from harming you, while you sleep, I promise.”

“N-not… Y-you and P-patton and Vi-rgil, c-can’t let them… can’t h-ave y-y-you-“ He can feel Janus already starting to drift, unable to hold on to awareness, after such a strong attack, plus his already elevated exhaustion and worry and stress, his words making his heart ache, because despite everything, Janus was focused on them, worried about them, getting taken, keeping them safe.

“We’re all ok, Janus. No one is going anywhere. No one is leaving. No one is going to hurt them. I promise.” He murmurs, relaxing himself as he feels Janus’s breath even into deep, long, inhales and exhales, going fully limp against him, smiling down at the sleeping Naga, at the trust and faith his friend has in him, to not need locked doors to keep him safe, when Logan is right there, watching over him.

He forgets, sometimes, where Janus has come from. How long, he spent in that endlessly cruel monotonous captivity.

He came so far, so fast, and even now, he masks his pain so well, hides behind that wicked smirk and smooth surety, and its so easy, to forget when they first got to him nearly eight years ago he barely spoke a single word for three months, nearly convincing all of them he was mute. It took him longer still, to understand choices, they had to introduce them slowly, starting with ‘would you prefer A or B’ type questions before moving to open ended ones.

It’s easy to forget, just how brave he is, acting as their inside man when necessary, posing as a buyer to get onto smuggler’s ships, playing the part he hates more than anything, no doubt terrified beneath the surface, because if anything went wrong, in most cases, they wouldn’t be able to get to him in time. But he never backs down, never says no, and Logan knows that Janus would rather perish than fail to free whomever they held trapped, and it scares him, his reckless, fast paced bravery, scares him. Because he is just as terrified of losing Janus as he clearly is of losing them. It makes him hold on a little tighter, continuing to rub Janus’s back, to murmur softly to him, keeping him company through the rest of the night.

@fortheloveofjanus

arunima:

Sending love to those struggling

cookietastic:

cookietastic:

Please god I’m begging you don’t ship my Jack and Danny art nor my Vlad and Danny art

You can ship any of teens you want with each other dont care who! Can ship any of the adults together don’t care who!

But let’s not do that above

Next chapter of my cat witcher OC (Nix) fic. See the Masterpost for content/warnings. Masterpost here.

An injury (it’s fine), some PTSD, some talking & comfort <3

-

Nix was washing down the table in the hall when Eskel returned from hunting, pushing through the front door while holding his side. When Nix spotted him her hand froze mid-swipe.

“Eskel?” she asked, concerned. She started walking towards him, but when she smelled blood she started running. “What happened?”

“Wyvern thought that deer looked like a good meal too, I guess.” He chuckled, slightly out of breath. A blood stain was blooming further out underneath his hand. “It’s not that bad.”

Nix ignored his words and gently pulled his hand away, then carefully peeled his gambeson aside. Her fingers were stained with blood and her hands started to shake. A memory flashed before her eyes, her hands covered in Aleks’s blood, and she shook her head fiercely. Not now. She needed to focus on helping Eskel. She took his sword belt and gambeson off, but she was starting to tremble, her breathing growing ragged.

“Hey, Nix, it’s alright, I’ll be fine,” Eskel tried to reassure her.

Lambert and Aiden came down the stairs together.

“Well, where’s my dinner?” Lambert called out jokingly to his brother, but as he focused on the scene in front of them his breath hitched and he hurried forwards, Aiden on his heels. “Hey, what the fuck, you’re supposed to take down the wildlife, ‘skel, not the other way ‘round.”

“You know, I knew I was forgetting something,” Eskel responded sarcastically, wincing slightly.

Aiden came up beside Nix, who was starting to lose control of her breathing, and gently touched her elbow. “Nix, love, hey.”

She jolted at the touch, looking at him with wide wet eyes.

“Here,” Aiden continued, “we’ll let Lambert take care of Eskel, ok? He’s going to be alright. Let’s go wash your hands.”

“So much blood,” she said in a shaky whisper.

“It’s ok. We’re going to clean it all up, and Lambert’s gonna patch up Eskel good as new. Everything’s going to be ok.” He steered her towards the kitchen with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He brought her to the sink and gently washed her hands as she stared ahead with glazed eyes, drawing in gasping breaths. “What’s the furthest sound you can hear?” he asked, nudging her shoulder gently.

“Uhm… there’s a mouse in the cellar,” she took a shaky breath, “wait, I think there’s a bird, nesting or something, on the far wall outside.”

“Good,” Aiden soothed, “and what’s the faintest thing you can smell? Can you smell the chickens outside?”

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She pushed past the baking scents in the kitchen, the blood in the dining area, willing down her speeding pulse that came with it, the fresh air that had come in the door… “The snow in the air… Lil Bleater’s enclosure. Pine trees.”

“Perfect. What’s the softest thing in this room?” Aiden asked quietly. Nix glanced around the room before landing her gaze back on Aiden. She leaned forward and nuzzled into his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her.

“You,” she murmured, and he snorted into her hair, stroking her back lightly.

“Feel a bit better?”

“Yeah. Thanks Aiden.”

“No problem, kit. Let’s make some tea for everyone, hmm? And we can put out some of the sweet buns Vesemir baked earlier. We can have it around the fire.”

“Ok.”

By the time they’d made tea and put together a tray, Eskel and Lambert had come back downstairs from the infirmary. Eskel was wearing a fresh set of clothes.

“Ah, refreshments, I’ve earned them,” Lambert happily declared.

Eskel snorted. “Who got injured?”

“Who patched you up?!” Lambert retorted.

Eskel caught Nix staring. “Right as rain! Lambert got me all patched up.”

She gave a tight smile and nodded.

“So, do I need to go hunting now, since you failed at your job?” Lambert asked teasingly.

“You can have all the wyvern your stomach desires, left it outside for you. Maybe if you burn off some energy dealing with that, you’ll have less for your noisy night-time—” Eskel was cut off by Lambert.

“Oi, alright! That’s fine. You know, maybe I’m in the mood for goat—” Lambert was cut off by a growl from Eskel at the same time as Aiden’s elbow found his ribs.

“Drink your fucking tea, would you?” Aiden demanded.

“Alright, alright. Everyone is so touchy,” Lambert grumbled, picking up his cup. He glanced at Nix, who was staring into the fire, then back into his drink. He cleared his throat. “Good tea,” he offered. When he got no response, he added, “Thanks Nix.”

She startled and looked up. “Hmm?”

“Thanks for the tea.”

“Oh. No problem.” She gave him a weak smile and turned back to the flames. They finished their drinks and treats in silence.

-

That night Nix woke up from another nightmare about Aleks, gasping for breath in the dark of her room. She threw off the blanket and furs and quickly dressed, then made her way down the hall, down the stairs and out of the keep. She stood outside the doors for a minute, watching her breath escape in white puffs in the frigid air. Flashes of her nightmare kept repeating in her mind, and she growled angrily. She tore across the courtyard, stopping in front of a training dummy, and struck it quickly with a right hook. Like a dam had broken, she started raining down hits and kicks on the dummy, pouring all of her misery into the form of cloth and straw.

-

Eskel was still trying to get to sleep, struggling to get comfortable with his aching side, when he heard footsteps pass by his door, going towards the stairs. Guessing at who it was, he carefully rolled out of bed and got dressed before following them down the hall.

He couldn’t see or hear anyone downstairs in the kitchen or the main hall, and there was a whiff of crisp winter air, so he continued to the doors and went outside. He spotted Nix across the courtyard, beating one of the training dummies, and crossed towards her. She hiccoughed, and he could smell salt in the air. She threw one last half-hearted punch at the dummy and sank to her knees, starting to sob.

“Nix?” Eskel came up behind her. “Hey, Nix,” he said softly, “what’s going on. You’re shaking from the cold, let’s go back inside, hmm?” He gently helped her up. “I’ll stoke up your fire. Come on.” He turned her back inside, and she let herself be led, sobs quieting back down to silent crying.

They ascended the stairs together, but as he walked them towards her room, she stopped.

“I…I don’t want to go back there tonight,” she said quietly.

“Alright. You could come to mine, if you like? Just to sleep,” he rushed to add.

“Ok,” she whispered.

They walked over to his room, and Eskel tossed another log on the fire before turning to her.

“Do you mind if I take off my pants? I’ll keep my shirts and braies on.”

She nodded. They both stripped off their cloaks, pants, and boots , then slipped under the blankets. After a few minutes Nix shuffled closer, and Eskel lifted his arm. She snuggled into his chest, and he wrapped his arm around her. She shivered, and he froze, lifting his arm slightly, but she nuzzled into his chest, and he relaxed back down again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he murmured. “Did you have another nightmare?”

She nodded, but didn’t elaborate. The wind surged past the window, whistling through a crack, and the fire sparked. Eskel’s eyelids were growing heavy when Nix’s whisper roused him.

“It’s always the same.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s always our last contract. The night… the night I lost Aleks.”

Eskel shifted slightly, turning into her and lightly rubbing his thumb along her side.

“We were taking out a sadistic lord. We’d infiltrated the party he was hosting, gotten him into a room alone and killed him without any trouble. Everything had gone according to plan, we should have been free and clear. But we were cornered by his men in a hallway on our way out. There were too many of them.” Nix drew in a shaky breath. “We took them all out, but not before… before…” Her breathing hitched, and she took a moment to try to steady it. “She died in my arms. I dream of her blood soaking her dress and mine, staining my hands, like it will never wash off…”

She turned her face into Eskel’s chest, her breathing ragged, his shirt growing wet.

Eskel thought back to earlier that afternoon, what it might have looked like to Nix when he came in bleeding, the memories it must have set off. He hugged her tighter.

“I’m so sorry.” He wished he had something more to say, but he knew the ache of loss, knew there were never really any words that would fill it. “And I’m sorry if I triggered that memory earlier.”

She made a sound, something between a sniff and a laugh, her throat still thick with tears. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You shouldn’t be apologizing to me, you’re the one who got injured.” She shoved up onto her elbow, leaning over Eskel. “I didn’t even ask. Are you ok? Does it hurt?”

He smiled at her. “I’m fine. Hardly know it’s there.” He tugged her back down to him. “Think you can sleep now?”

She nodded, snuggling into him and wrapping her arm around him below the bandages.

“Thank you,” she whispered, barely audible. He hummed and nosed in her hair. It wasn’t long before their breathing evened out and both were asleep.

-

Thx@lohrendrell&@its-onions for your help!

-

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Müd verweil ich in der Haut,
die mir nie gehören mocht.
Deine Rufe drängen laut
und mein Herz - es pocht.

Tränen spülen sich leis fort,
brennen Leiden in die Wang,
jagen mich von hier nach dort,
dass ich haste und stets bang.

Bleiern wiegen meine Glieder,
so die kalten Nächte meiner.
Denn ich seh dich immer wieder -
außer mir sonst jedoch keiner.

Raubst mir Schlaf und meine Kräfte,
lässt dich fallen, wo ich liege.
Darum wühl ich durch die Hefte
bis ich schließlich tapfer siege.

CW: dead pet/cat death/pet euthanasia

Y’all I am not having a good night. I lost my 15 year old cat from childhood two days ago and everytime I close my eyes to try and go to sleep I just keep seeing the whole process of him being put down over and over in my mind. It’s like my mind is on a constant loop of seeing the life go out in his eyes and then seeing his limp body just laying there. I’m so glad I was able to be there for him in his last moments but this fucking sucks and I miss him so much.

this-world-of-beautiful-monsters:

Leo has some doubts during a brutal torture session.

Title taken from the song Sick Thoughts by Lewis Blissett.

Prompt 1: Snitches Get Stitches for @amonthofwhump‘s March Madness challenge.

(tw torture, violence, blood, gore, emotional manipulation, flashbacks, sort-of past character death, implied mind control, blink-and-you’ll miss it CSA references)

You find the full series on AO3.

Keep reading