#more of this pairing on my Ao3

[bluetraverser]

Long post: The end of a story I never wrote - HighschoolAU - Stardew - Robert/Elliott

...They fell, crushed, stumbled into an embrace and he found himself crying uncontrollably. His entire body felt stiff and limp at the same time, his skin taut over his head and arms while he shuddered and sobbed at the sudden joy and pain of having him in arms reach again. While the life here was good, he had been so terribly lonely, so unable to let go of loving this man and…

(context and full chapter under the cut)

Okay, this needs a bit of introduction because this is basically part of a chapter for a story that would have had 20 or more chapters which I will likely never write. Or not for several years. Who knows. What follows is a very quick summary of the plot and then the actual story.

First of all: Chapter takes place in Pelican town - on the day Elliott moves there, much earlier than in any canon.

Story so far: Elliott and Robert both go to highschool??? Idk, a school where you go to when you're 18 at least, I am not comfortable with younger. Elliott is a rich kid who hates his parents and vice versa. Bookish, unpopular, somewhat aloof, pretty... in a word, Elliott.

Robert is a popular sports guy with all the cliches of gay guy who is terrified of people knowing he is gay so hes a bully and seemingly ladies man who always finds excuses to never actually do anything with them.

Obviously they fall in love.

Both are terrified of it, both pretend like nothings going on. After a very complicated instance of the good old "there is only one bed", they spend several nights of passion before ultimately Elliott breaks up with him and says they will likely never meet again because his dad is a monster, they will never be safe, yada yada, Robert does not take it well.

At the start of this chapter, neither of them has any idea what has become of the other but Elliott has finally managed to get away from his abusive family. Its been 2 years since they last met.

I think that hopefully set up all the most important points. Feel free to ask or comment about this!

-----------------------

Elliott felt an odd, uncomfortable weight within himself.

This was it.

He was free.

But he was also poor. He had no degree, barely any money… The bus stopped. „Pelican town!“ Elliott got off with a heavy heart.

It was beautiful.

He breathed in.

He dropped his bags.

Fresh, full air made his lungs blow wide, made the sheer act of breathing a joy. He smelled the ocean and the forests, the vitalizing greens of vibrant moss soaking in the country sun… It was invigorating.

Still, he picked up his bags again and looked around, trying to get a sense of which direction he was supposed to go. The shed he had rented was supposedly right at the ocean. From his notes, that meant he first needed to go left, then across a square, across a bridge and to the left again… But was that left from facing the bus stop or the other way around? He could see a fenced in farm with a house down the street, to his right. Going left was probably wise, but… He dropped his bags again and walked a little bit closer, curious as to his new environment and Neighbors. It was a nice little house that looked like it had recently been renovated. The fields that lay before it weren’t spectacularly wide but seemed to span a large assortment of different plants. How curious! He had thought it would be more common to source only one kind of plant per field. Was this a commercial farm or just someone living there with a big garden? His gaze grazed the mailbox and his heart stuttered in his chest as reality seemed to suddenly be turned on its hinges.

Robert Llyr

!

Elliott felt the air being sucked out of his lungs, stunned, confused, desperate in that insane hope suddenly rushing his mind away. It’s impossible! It can’t be him! It’s a freak coincidence! It’s...it’s…

He squinted over the fields, trying to find sight of anyone doing anything there and- A blond man surfaced between the rows of corn. He had spiky hair and bend down just now, doing something with the plants. Disappointment plummeted through his belly. He was starting to feel sick. The permanent up and down of this weird day, these rushes of hope and dread and pain and that blinding beauty of his new freedom but the sickness of being just so god-damn lonely on this path- He put his hands on his face, breathing. Trying to collect himself, trying to calm down. „Hey! You okay there?“

Elliott startled but the blonde was already approaching him in quick steps. „Looking a lil shaken there, mate.“

„Uhm. Uh. I’m fine, I’m fine, thank you!“

The man examined him for a moment, then his bags. „You new in town?“

Elliott awkwardly shrugged, then nodded. „Yes. I just got off the bus.“

„Ah. Lucky you that the bus runs at all. The man who lives here fixed it only last month. It was broken for years before that!“

„Oh. So. You, uh, you don’t live here?“

The man chuckled. „Nah man, couldn’t afford it. Robert lives here. He inherited the plot and moved here last year. My name is Sam, I live down in Willow Lane with my mom and brother. Do you know where you’re going?“

„I… Yes. I rented a place at the beach. And I wrote down directions. I was just curious I guess and…“ He contemplated for a moment how open to be with this person. He’d been friendly enough and… asking couldn’t hurt, could it. „...say, this Robert Llyr. Do you know him on a personal level? Like… do you know where he lived before?“

Sam made a motion to grab one of his bags. „Want my help carrying your stuff? I’m headed in the direction you’re going so I might as well help you out.“

„I- Uh- I… S-sure, that would be great. Thank you.“

Oh god, what a bumbling idiot I am being! One hint that even reminds me of him makes me a complete and utter fool! What must this man think of me already!

„Sorry, I just. I knew a Robert Llyr once and. It kind of shook me to see his name. I’m Elliott, by the way.“

Sam grinned at him widely. „Well hello Elliott. I’m Sam. But I already said that. Come on, let’s get going.“ He grabbed his bag and started walking. „And sure, I know Robert, we’re friends. Otherwise I wouldn’t have walked over his property and stolen one of his cauliflowers.“ He jangled a bag in his other hand around.

„You stole of him?“

„Not really. It’s cool with him if we take stuff and tell him later and he tells us what we owe once a week. Works out pretty okay. He’s a good egg but I don’t know where he lived before. He’s a little bit secretive like that. But he’s been working his ass off with the farm and making this town a better place, so. Not like anyone could complain about him, ever. What’s the Robert like that you know?“

„He’s...well…“ Handsome. Beautiful. Brave. Sad. God I miss you-„...complicated. We met under somewhat...difficult circumstances and he wasn’t always as nice as he could have been, I guess. But that wasn’t his fault and…“ He sighed. „It’s. Complicated. I mean, I’ll see if its him in good time, right?“

„I would guess so.“ They had reached what was probably the center of town. „This is basically the place where it gets most busy in this place. If at all. You got Pierres over there, selling mostly groceries n stuff, you got the mayors house over there and theres a notice board in front of Pierres shop if somebody in town has a small job or something.“

„Jobs?“

„Yeah, like, if they want somebody to fetch something for them or help them with a project. Things like that. Usually pays okay and people are grateful. Theres also a joja markt a lil further up the road and Clint’s shop is over there but I think he only sells rocks, no idea. I don’t really talk to him.“ They had gone across the square. „And this is the road where I live, Willow Lane.“ He handed Elliott's bag back to him. „You got any questions before I leave you to find your way across the bridge?“

Elliott stared for a moment, still trying to somehow digest the entire situation. „I...No.“ He managed a smile. „Thank you so much. You’ve been a great help.“

„No sweat, man! Take it easy!“ He waved and wandered off, leaving Elliott with a pounding, heavy heart and all the questions in the world.

Where would this person be? What should he do if it wasn’t him? ...what if it was him? Would he forgive him? Was he single? Ye gods, he was desperate to be with him. Had been for the past two years! But the need had been lying dormant and buried for so long now, it had been bearable. The current state was like a fresh, overwhelming physical urge to find him and hold him. To just have him back in his arms! But it was impossible. Impossible. He had to steel himself for the strong likelihood of this just being a freak name coincidence. That he would never see him again.

He walked across the beach and to the ocean.

It was the first time he saw the ocean.

It should be a wonderful moment. And it was. It was amazing to see it.

But it also felt hollow.

Everything seemed to mean nothing like this. Everything was just so dull, so… A figure sat at the end of the pier, near the hut he assumed to be the one he had rented.

Black hair. Slightly hunched.

It couldn’t be.

Elliott dropped his bags again and slowly walked onto the pier, barely daring to breathe. The figure looked even buffer than Robert had been. A broad back. Strong arms. The man was fishing. He looked. A lot like Robert did. As far as he could tell from behind. But the possibility of the man turning and it just being someone completely different-

He took another small step forward.

Another.

And Another. He had to know. He had to know…

The person turned and Elliott's heart stuttered out of his chest, unable to say anything in this moment.

It was him.

Robert looked at him with an unreadable expression. He got up, wiping his hands on a tissue, stepping up to him. He looked just a little bit different. Stronger around the jaw. Overall, even fitter. Kinder in the eyes. More peaceful. A small smile started gracing his features as he stepped up to him, reaching out with one hand, as if to see if he was real.

Elliott took his hand. Heard himself make a whimpering, emotional sound. Or had Robert done that? Robert smiled wider, blinking tears from his eyes. „How… are you here?“

Elliott pressed his lips together, unable to keep the tears from falling. „I...I don’t know.“ He wished he had something poetic to say but he was completely overwhelmed, clasping both his hands now, so full of uncertainty and need and-

-----

They fell, crushed, stumbled into an embrace and Robert found himself crying uncontrollably. His entire body felt stiff and limp at the same time, his skin taut over his head and arms while he shuddered and sobbed at the sudden joy and pain of having him in arms reach again. While the life here was good, he had been so terribly lonely, so unable to let go of loving this man and… He cupped his face, looking at him, drinking in his strawberry hair and those green eyes.

And remembered.

He sighed and let go, rubbing his eyes. „I… it’s. Good to see you. Elliott.“

Elliott stared at him with pained eyes. „Yes… i… Robert I’m. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry! At the time… I was sure there was no hope! I didn’t think so now! Or I wouldn’t have…“

Robert shrugged. „It’s… not like I didn’t understand. I. I’m. I just. I’m not sure what to feel right now.“ He swallowed hard. „What are you doing here?“

„I… guess I’m moving here today.“ Elliott smiled. „I finally got a restraining order against my father and his goons, I worked a little while to get some money and then just. Left. I…“ He sighed. „I would have tried to find you if. If I had had any idea��� I suppose. It didn’t occur to me to investigate where you could have gone, to be honest. I didn’t feel like I would deserve your forgiveness. And I felt. I would not be able to bear your disdain, should you… should you feel bitter towards me.“ „So you had no idea I was here?“

Elliott shook his head. „No. I just. I worked for a little while to get a few savings. Then looked for a cheap place near the ocean somewhere. Earlier I saw your mailbox and. Dared not to hope. But. I. Longed for you anyway.“

„God… you make me feel so...conflicted.“

Elliott smiled wryly. “And why is that?”

Robert groaned. If only he wasn’t so cute! If only he hadn’t missed him so goddamn much! Robert had been in absolute agony when Elliott had left with the definitive statement that he didn’t think they would meet again. That Robert should move on. Give up on them. That they would never be safe together. Had left without really giving Robert a say in any of it. And he had been mad for a long time. Because he still loved him. Because he had missed him more than he felt appropriate for what had ultimately been a quick fling in his school years… And yet. Looking at him now, he wanted nothing but give in and fall into him again completely. Robert leaned his head on Elliott's shoulder, sighing. He felt Elliott slowly, hesitantly put his arms around him again. Allowing him time to stop him if he had wanted to… “I’m sorry I hurt you, Robert. I understand if you don’t want to just forgive me.”

------

“It’s… less that I don’t want to. More like I’m not sure if I should.”

Elliott leaned his head against him, trying to just… to just not… God. He wanted this to be okay. He wanted him to be okay. Both of them. They were finally together again but… but… He pressed a kiss to the others head.

I love you.

He had never said the words to him. He hadn’t known when they were together. And later...later… “I. Don’t want to pressure you. And I won’t. I…” He took a deeper breath, trying to feel okay with maybe letting go off him, but Robert was holding on to him tightly, despite the situation… “...I mean. I will be living here now. And you are too. And. If you don’t want to see me for a bit. Then. I understand. Even though I. I would. Of course. Very much want… to see you…” He was staring at his lips. Robert looked at him through tear-stained eyes with a stubborn expression. Elliott waited for a reply but Robert was just staring at him now. Elliott tried not to be too obvious the way he stared at him, tried to stop thinking about wanting to kiss him but the more he tried to stop himself, the more he wanted it, imagined what their lips felt like together, wanted to find a quiet place with him and-

Robert put a hand on his face and kissed him. Elliott felt a bolt of energy unleash in him as he rushed against him to kiss him back, pulling him closer, losing himself in the sweetness of his mouth that dissolved all thoughts and filled him with bliss… They slowly opened another more, lips rubbing and pressing against another while his tongue sought entrance into his mouth and… Mmmh…

He stroked through his hair, down his back, pulled him closer around the hip while he pushed himself forward, thoroughly lost in the sensation now, kissing his lost love on this pier at the edge of his new life, unexpectedly having salvaged the best thing from his old… They finally broke apart after who knew how long, heated and dazed… Elliott stroked his face, fighting the urge to kiss that dazed smile some more. He brushed his lips over his cheek. “Does this mean you want to see me some more too?”

Robert laughed and kissed his nose. “I don’t know if I will regret this. But right now I want to drag you to my home and have sex with you. Which is not actually what we should do, given that you just arrived and all. But yes.” He smiled. “I guess I do want to see you ‘some more’.”

[Plot note, timeskip; off-screen: they go back to the beach. Robert say he needs to sell his fresh fish, Elliott uses the chance to say hi to willy who is please he already knows someone and immediately knows whats up so leaves them alone in the cabin pretty soon but they soon realize they should go to roberts place cause they cannot keep their hands off eachother and Elliott simply wants to shower before doing it for the first time in two years. they decide to shower together] [some mild sex stuff ahead]

Elliott unfastened his tie while brushing his teeth, tracing his eyes over his now-finally-again partner, likewise brushing his teeth. Elliott could barely wait to take his clothes off and see all of him. He already looked delicious, sweats and sweatshirt sticking beautifully to his strong body regardless of fashion choice. Robert rinsed his mouth and Elliott started nearly tripping over himself when he took off his shirt. God, he looked good. The farmwork was certainly working in favor of his physique… He quickly rinsed his mouth, put down the toothbrush and the next moment they were kissing again. Elliott groaned into the kiss, thoroughly delighted to feel his naked chest beneath his hands while they both worked on opening Elliotts remaining buttons… Robert pushed himself against him and his hands wandered down… They had to at least briefly wash themselves, he knew. But stumbling naked beneath the shower with him, so close, so… mmh…

------

Robert wanted to savor this. Two long years since he’d been with him. And all the last times they’d had sex had been fast and desperate in half-public places. Uncomfortable and full of fear in so many terrible ways… But he wasn’t really thinking anything any-more. The water was rushing around them, his hands wandering across Elliotts back and chest and ass, tempted to rub his cock, take it in his mouth, to turn over and…

Elliott pressed him against the wall, kissing him deeply, reaching between his legs-

Robert cried out in pleasure, trying to adjust, trying to spread his legs more in the slippery space when Elliott kneeled down somewhat suddenly and his brain gave out…

He started coming back to himself more when Elliott washed off the shower lotion he’d spread on both of them after. He’d been holding on to the grip bar while Elliott was pleasuring him and was now slowly coming down from the high…

“You okay, darling?”

“...yes…”

Elliott smiled and kissed his forehead, then turned off the water. “I suppose, there goes my plan of keeping my hair dry.” He reached for the towels.

“Heh. Well, you didn’t have to go down on me.”

“Mmh, but I loved doing it.” He squeezed his hand, then pressed a couple of kisses to his cheek. “...And I cannot wait to continue.” ---- They tumbled to bed, kissing and stroking and a part of him reminded him just how incredible this was. Twenty-four hours ago he hadn’t known if he would ever see him again. Had been anxious and unsure about leaving his old home for good, going to a place where he knew nobody with very little resources…

Now he had him in his arms, entwined as they kissed and loved another and it felt better than any time they had done this before.

They were free. They were both free.

He stilled. Pulled himself out of the kiss and focused on embracing him. He rubbed their cheeks together and pressed close, sighing softly. He had his eyes closed and just breathed. Breathed the beauty of the moment. Focused on this feeling of his loves strong arms holding him so tight and so loving, of this buzzing heady feeling in his mind that blinded him to all but the delicate feeling pouring out of him… “I love you.” He whimpered, overwhelmed by his emotion. “I love you, Robert.” He looked into his partners tear-stricken ocean-blues. “I never thought I’d see you again. But in the pain of being heart-broken, I relished in knowing the truth of this feeling. I was prepared to carry the pain until my end, if it meant I could also keep carrying the love. Even if it meant loneliness for all this life.”

Robert sobbed, emotion heavy on his face, changing from sorrow to contemplation and perhaps, some joy in a small moment until a smile graced his features and he stroked over Elliotts face again. “...and now?”

Elliott laughed. “Now I hold you in my arms… in what seems like the most unbelievable twist of my life. In what seems like the universe must have a conscience because our paths leading us here seem to unbelievable to be possible. Now up is down, the world is a circle. The birds sing and will always sing in the mountains of the world because I have you now and in this moment. And if all fails and my heart will be broken again, my love for you will still be whole. Made full, finally, by being here with you, finally offering my heart to you in earnest.”

Robert rubbed his face, crying, shaking his head… “Jesus christ, Elliott… How can you...how…”

Elliott pressed his lips together, hoping, praying he hadn’t ruined it all, That this didn’t mean… Robert embraced him again. “You goddamn dramatic idiot… Of course I love you too!”

Elliott shuddered, hugging him back, more tears flowing from his eyes while his brain seemed to spin and dance and light bloomed deep within him. “I love you.” He cupped his face, smiling like a fool no doubt but more happy than he’d ever been in his life. “I love you.” He kissed him once, twice. “I love you.”

“I love you too! And I hate that I had to wait two years to be able to tell you!”

Elliott smiled and kissed his nose. “Me too. But now we’re together. Isn’t that all that should matter?”

Robert made a face. “Kind of. I guess. I...argh! You’re just… you’re just…you’re… ah…”

Elliott had started nibbling at his neck, breathing warmly into his ear making soft, urging sounds while he touched him some more and…

“Elliott-”

“Hmm?” He kissed him…

...and all thought vanished...

[alicent-archive]

would the Battle of the Burning Mill have been prevented if Aeron Bracken and Davos Blackwood fucked nasty in the fields? probably not. but I still think they should've given it a shot.

[battry-acid]

seteth timeskip design for events that haven't happened yet in @merlyybird's fic :3

[mads-schubert]

I would've liked to see these two be a little toxic and morally ambiguous together ngl

[fangemorose]

The fandom of Count of Monte Cristo be like

[morganasmissus]

bring back podfics- at this point i am BEGGING

they are one of the best medias for fanfiction😫

[spacedlexi]

twdg s4 really gave us an adorable wlw romance for the main character about building a home and a family where the two antagonists are an evil woman who she was partially cared for by as a child and her girlfriends fucked up not-exactly-ex girlfriend who wants her dead (who has been manipulated by Evil Woman and they are character foils) AND its written by a gay woman and its fucking CRICKETS!!!!! i dont understand !!!!!!!

[batsbratsandbarbedwire]

If you think you're having a bad day, just remember my current fixation is a rare pair.

[gigglemugger]

The Naked and the Blind (or The Ballad of Meg Halsey).

Fandom: Re-Animator (Movies - Combs), Herbert West - Reanimator - H.P. Lovecraft.

Pairing: Herbert West/Meg Halsey

Rating: Explicit, or at the very least Mature.

Archive Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence.

Synopsis:

"Meg Halsey had a problem. In fact, she had several problems, the first of which, she acknowledges while looking at her semi empty living room, is that she can't afford to live alone anymore. The second one is that she doesn't wanna go back to her daddy's house again. This would be an inconceivable notion to her thirteen year old self, even her sixteen year old self, but at twenty five, she'd really choose living under the bridge first. Ok. Maybe not that." Meg Halsey is perfect: Beautiful, accomplished, a bright future doctor. She escaped her hometown and moved to New York, where she likely would have stayed forever. After her mother dies, though, she is forced to move back to Arkham and face everything she wanted to leave behind. --- A.K.A I made a tumblr post about how Crampton/Combs are romantically involved in all of their collabs, got replies and decided to write down a suggestion of "what if Meg was the protagonist, not Dan?" Also I did the cop-out summary thing and pasted the first paragraph of the fic. It's highway robbery. Criminal (I'm sorry).

Thanks to @resonanteye and @sugarsweetnightmareee for helping me shape this up in the replies!

Word Count: Multi Chapter, so far 2,561 published, 19,701 written at the time of publication.

Chapter Count: 1/? (likely 9).

AO3 Tags: I uhhh......... I have no idea what I made it started with one tumblr post then one reply and here we are, I included other works by Lovecraft here and rounded Arkham up and then ran, Character Study, In a way, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Dan Cain, he doesn't exist, Danbert shippers cry I get it, Canon-Typical Violence, Animal Death, Eventual Romance, Slow Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Eventual Smut?, maybe? - Freeform, this fic is an affront to god just like herbert's reagent, Not Beta Read.

Language: English.

CW: Meg went through some trauma. Dead parents, dead cat. She also helps kill her dad later on, considering, so. It's a heavy fic, but if you liked the movie you'll be fine.

AO3 link.

AO3 Notes (yes, they're huge, bear with me): This is an AU about Meg Halsey. I always wanted to write this because in every single Combs/Crampton collaboration, they play lovers (Castle Freak, From Beyond, the Evil Clergyman) EXCEPT FOR in Reanimator, so I made a tumblr post saying I'd like to explore a Meg/Herbert thing solely because of that (and I've only seen it being done one other time, which made me wanna take a personal shot at it). This post was WAY more popular than I expected (it didn't hit the hundreds, but it hit like 20+ notes when I expected like 1 and it being a comment of "are you insane?" with nothing else), so I decided to take it seriously. Then someone suggested I make a version where Meg is the main character, no Dan, no nothing and I thought that was a really interesting idea and ran with it.  I made several notes (like four pages) about Meg's character and realized that she’s an amazing, incredibly accomplished ball of air. They made her have good instincts, a good brain, be helpful, be sweet, and then gave her zero personality. This isn’t her movie, so the first thing I did in this AU was scramble around with her brains and give her a will to live for something. The second thing I did was to scramble around with her brains enough so she’d have ambition.  The third one was to scramble around with her brains enough she’d have a crush on West—who is her equal here. I'm not saying this relationship won't go into some toxic patterns, but so does Danbert, though I understand the implications. It's more like a double edged sword, though.  When I say this is an AU, I mean it’s an AU for sure. I changed a lot of plot points, and switched things around, because it turns out that having Meg as a protag changes a lot on its own. I personally think that Herbert liked Dan for three reasons: He was beautiful, smart and incredibly gullible. Here he likes Meg because she's smart, ambitious and much more like him than others would think. She doesn't take bullshit, though. Scenes are maintained but go different directions, etc. Meg also went through trauma and transformation, which will be unpacked, and though she externally acts like the Meg we know, most of the time, she's not. She had like a Veronica Mars esque transformation, minus the REAL TRAGEDIES of Veronica Mars.  I decided to name this a ballad cause I always name things ballads and start with the definition of the word cause I’m pretentious and like to make it seem as if it’s not ‘cause of the ballad of John and Yoko. In this case, though, I decided to just call it the ballad of Meg Halsey, instead of the ballad of Herbert and Meg, or Halsey and West, because this fanfic is very much about Meg—she deserves it.  The Naked and the Blind comes from that line from Every Me Every You by Placebo (like the naked leads the blind, I know I’m selfish, I’m unkind). It felt fitting. I also included two characters of Lovecraft lore which will be useful throughout the fic (and possible sequel in which I take the bones of bride of reanimator and completely reshape it), Asenath Waite and Edward Derby, from The Thing on the Doorstep. I also mention the Pickmans, Necronomicons, all of that. I think I'm going to use Welsey as a ship name for now, though I'm sure someone else somewhere in the world has already come up with a ship name for them. I also named the Playlist I made for them this. Very normal behavior.  I have seven chapters written, almost at the end of the fic as a whole, and I’ll try to upload one every Monday. We’ll see.

1. Sucker love is heaven sent.

Meg Halsey had a problem. In fact, she had several problems, the first of which, she acknowledges while looking at her semi empty living room, is that she can't afford to live alone anymore. The second one is that she doesn't wanna go back to her daddy's house again. This would be an inconceivable notion to her thirteen year old self, even her sixteen year old self, but at twenty five, she'd really choose living under the bridge first. Ok. Maybe not that.

Here's a picture of Meg Halsey's life one year ago: A happy medical student in New York, with her own room and roommate at one of the dorm houses. Not a sorority girl like her mother gushed about her being when she was twelve, but still friendly towards everyone. Her hair was a little shorter, less gruffy, definitely bobbed, and she probably looked serene. Medical students aren't by definition serene, but she hadn't majorly fucked up. She got high grades, was the second best in her class which was full of men, and she was proud of herself.

Then her mother died. The rest was probably history, or easily deductible.

Savings had existed, but living in Arkham was more expensive than she remembered. Her dad wanted to pay for the house, but she refused because she knew what that entailed. He also wanted her to move back with him, but that would also mean other things: You don't need to pay rent, but you'll have to cook, clean, take care of affairs and be your mother. She was shocked he hadn't sent for her when she was dying, but then it had been so fast that maybe he didn't have the time.

“Don't worry daddy, it's OK,” she had said with a smile, eyeing the wine. She couldn't drink in front of him unless it was a special occasion, like a thirteen year old. “I'm just gonna have to find a roommate.”

It had been a week ago, at that house that smelled of death. Wood, carpets of history, several footprints of doctors, her mother and all the versions of herself.

I wish I could have that drink…

“Hmm…” Yes. The characteristic Dean Halsey “Hm.” The same he had for his employees when he needed to convince them of something. Here we go… “I'm not sure it's safe for you to invite a stranger into your house, Meggie.”

“I had a stranger in my house, remember? My roommate in college.” A nice girl, who never got into trouble, she had told her mother in her semi-weekly calls, which was a lie. Becca was a protester who was always in and out of jail because of fights with the cops. Still, that meant Meg had quiet nights to study, or contemplate the lights on in places that hadn't been Arkham.

“I still don't know about that, sweetheart. Maybe you should move back in for a while…”

“Are you alright, honey?” Her mother's voice resonated in her head. Last phone call before disaster. She remembered the clothes she had been wearing: Light sweater, jeans, boots. A Meg Halsey classic. She remembered it was raining and that two people went behind her, two guys, talking. There was a light breeze from the door and they were gone.

“I'm alright, mom. You?”

“Meg,” Dr. Harrod said. Hospital. Residence. Meg was holding onto her scalpel too tightly. “Maybe you need a break.”

“I'm fine.”

Another picture of Meg Halsey’s life: Prodigy. Brilliant. Bright smile, beautiful blue eyes. She was a perfect specimen of what you would call a girl: Polite, traditional, good. She never stayed out past eight, she never went with boys that much, she never strayed from her studies. She wanted to be whatever her dad thought was best, whatever her mother thought would make her proud.

Meg had goals and ambitions, sure, but she also wanted other things. She watched her parents at the table, while cutting her meat. They were always smiling, laughing easily. All of it. She wanted it all. She even thought she had met a boy, her last high school boyfriend, traditional all the way, very nice and Christian upper middle class. Then…

The television was on, showing the news and Meg bit her lip. She looked at her nails, looked at the carpet and then at her cat, roaming around. “I'm not even going to have money to feed you at this rate,” she said when her beloved Rufus came to her lap. She put her face on his back gently. “God…”

Not turning back to the house, she'd have to find a roommate, one that she wouldn't be afraid would murder her in her sleep. Maybe she needed some coffee. Maybe she needed a million dollars.

She looked at the clock on the wall, the one that looked like Felix the cat, which she had in her bedroom at ten. The eyes went back and forth, freaking her mother out. It still had the stain of when she tried to paint it pink with glitter nail polish. Most importantly, it told her it was almost time to leave. Harrod would be going up and down looking for her and she had morgue duty, which was surely a lot for her muscles and she didn't look forward to it—morgue duty being that now it was the norm that someone else other than the attending intern doctor take the body downstairs, after an incident occurred (no more was mentioned about such an incident).

She wouldn't let her colleagues say she was using her status as the Dean's daughter to get out of good honest work.

However, she would have to look at Hill… He was always there testing his weird pen…

“Ouch!” She shrieked, looking at her hand and seeing the blood. “Oh, Rufus, get off!” Rufus did so, apparently understanding he shouldn't bite her and that she'd be rightfully pissed. She had to admit it was effective in bringing her back to the scene, though. It was a documentary which aired now, about a fishing town with a strange, rare disease. She had heard about it, and should be more interested considering, but frankly all she wanted was that coffee and a shower.

It was a pleasant afternoon in Arkham, her birth city. A strange city to be brought up in, with a deep history of the occult, but with a pristine, ivy league college in the form of the Miskatonic University. Meg stepped out of her car, chilly. She was wearing boots, a sweater and her hair was up. It was getting longer. Her dad almost went insane when she wanted to leave Arkham for New York, especially for medicine if she so insisted on studying that.

“A more womanly course would be interesting…”

“What's more womanly than curing people? Than being a healer?” Her mother waved her hand.

“I'm just not sure, Meg. Your dad thinks the same… Maybe it'd be best…”

“Would you have gone if you could? If you could do anything, would you? I can. I wanna go to New York.”

Every time in the past few months that she felt the air of the hospital wafting on her, sterilized and reminiscent of all the times she went to visit her dad, it was sort of like defeat. Not that she'd let that bring her down. She did go to New York after all. It was temporary, just until her dad got back on her feet.

Until he met someone, Becca said. A hot, pretty new thing to screw.

“Halsey,” Harrod said, standing by reception. Was she waiting? “Right on time. You need to go to 106, now. A patient just died, you need to take her down.”

At least she wasn't the one who killed her. Hooray for small miracles.

Scrubs became her, she thought—not that having vain thoughts was her hallmark—but they were not better than suits by a mile. She felt extremely underdressed in a second, walking into the morgue, at least compared to the austere, small man checking the beakers.

“Meg?” The man raised his head. The second man, being the corpse, stayed thankfully very still. “What are you doing here?”

“Pushing a body?” She laughed a little, to make things light, but she knew she had been busted. A few years ago it'd be unprecedented to go behind his back on anything, but now... Besides, it wasn't drugs, it was just a dead guy for Christ's sake.

He looked concerned right away.

“You're too small to be doing this kind of work. You'll kill yourself.”

“Honestly daddy—” she could feel the ears of the stranger perking up at that. Great going, Meg. Tell every single stranger about it. “It's fine. I can do it.” He paused and pursed his lips.

“Certainly one of your classmates…”

“I said I'm alright,” she smiled a little towards him, to mitigate any disrespect, before turning her attention completely to the left. “Who are you?” The small man looked up from a tag in one of the corpses.

“Oh, don't mind me. I'm sure I don't wanna interrupt family.” Her dad wouldn't pick up on the sarcasm, Meg knew, but she did. Her shoulders tensed, her eyes narrowed.

“Nonsense,” Dean Halsey began, well humored. “Mr. West, I'd like to introduce you to the most brilliant medical student in this room…” She looked away.

“Stop it, dad,” Meg smiled her brightest smile to hide her discomfort, as usual. West smiled back, in contempt.

“Oh, does she have a name?”

“I'm Megan. Halsey.” She didn't bother stretching her hand, she didn't wanna touch him.

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Halsey.” I don't think so.

“West just came from Switzerland. He was doing independent research for Dr. Gruber, before he died.” Meg knew the story, heard it through the grapevine, but no one knew any details.

Gruber was a brilliant doctor, though. She had read his most recent paper on brain death, and all the other ones he wrote a lot in New York. A page turner, Gruber—by medical paper standards, at least.

“So, you studied death?” She asked. His ears perked up again.

“Yes, I have.” Well dressed, prim and curt. Fun. I'll love having him in class.

“Alan,” a third voice filled the place, coming from the adjacent room, the one where he no doubt had been procuring a corpse from. Meg involuntarily twisted her nose and pretended she had an itch. She stopped on his feet. “Nice to see you down here, Ms. Halsey.”

“Well I'm glad, cause here I am, every Tuesday.” Next time tell him when you go out to do your laundry.

“Definitely more than your father comes down here. We haven't been seeing him in a while.”

“I was just showing our newest student, Herbert West here, the not-so-grand-tour.” He always made that joke when he brought people down. Meg saw him do it at least twice and heard about it four other ones. “This should interest you, Carl. He worked with Hans Gruber.” While her dad introduced Hill, and all of his prowess to get research grants somehow, probably with that freaky pen he carried, Meg was thinking briefly about how was Herbert West working for Gruber, fully, even as a student.

“I know your work Dr. Hill. Quite well.” Meg raised her head. “Your theory on the location of the will in the brain is… Interesting, though derivative of Dr. Gruber's research in the early 70s.”

She knew that. She needed a dictionary to read his most obscure work, but German and English were similar enough, she got by.

“So derivative, in fact, that in Europe it's considered plagiarized. And your support of the 12 minute limit on the life of the brain stem after death…”

“...Six to twelve minutes, Mr…?”

Meg wanted to leave.

“West. Herbert West. Frankly, Dr… Hill? Your work on brain death is outdated.”

“Carl,” her dad interrupted and Meg looked away from the scene. Frankly, Hill gave her the creeps, sort of, and seeing him that angry was unpleasant. Suck it up, ok? You know him since you were at least twelve, it's fine.

You were always soft.

“...Megan and I would love it if you came to dinner.” Wait what?

“What?” She repeated out loud. Herbert turned his bright hazel, poisonous eyes towards her. She straightened her back. “I'm sorry, dinner? When?

“Thursday,” West answered for the others. He put his hands on his hips. “Maybe pushing bodies around really isn't for someone as small as you, Ms. Halsey.”

“I'm fine.”

“You might kill yourself.”

“Dad, dinner, Thursday? I'm not sure I can make it.”

What else are you gonna do? Your friends don't talk to you anymore since you left for New York to hang out with feminists, artists, and bohemians, leaving them here with babies and husbands.

“Well, I'm sure you'll make an exception,” Hill said, looking straight at her. “A lovely, amazing student such as yourself should take some time off every now and then. Celebrate.” She hated when he looked straight at her. She could feel her dad and West observing in the sidelines.

“Sure,” Meg found herself saying, hands tight against the steel of the gurney, knuckles turning white. “I'll cook.”

You'll what?!

“Fantastic,” Hill finished, looking at Herbert next. “I'll see you in class, mr. West. Ms. Halsey.” He nodded his head and she smiled, closing her eyes.

Both Hill and her father left in what seemed to be a dream sequence, no doubt discussing the grant, and the autopsy room was silent once again.

Her head was throbbing. The walls and floors were gray, there was a corpse rotting in their midst, Meg took a deep breath—chemical and invigorating somehow.

“I take it you don't like Dr. Hill either.” She looked at West, whose eyes still shone. He approached her, footsteps echoing out. “How did you know I was studying death?”

“I'm a doctor, Mr. West. I read,” she released the gurney, feeling tired for the meal she'd have to cook, on top of studying. There was a beat before she could stop herself from asking “What happened between you and dr. Gruber?”

“What do you mean?” A slight twitch, a small movement of the lips. “Dr. Gruber had a lab accident that I was unfortunately too late to prevent.”

“I heard he was in his office when he died.” Another twitch.

“I'm sure you heard it wrong, with all due respect ms. Halsey.”

Chemical smells, corpses rotting, the smell of something burning—Hill's pen no doubt left crisp black flesh behind, and he did it on enough people in the morgue proper that it got to where she was. She looked at West for almost long enough she'd probably have his exact face and pose at that moment committed to memory, forever.

He looked at her, waiting for something to happen.

Her hands hurt from grasping the gurney for so long.

“I'm not doing so great, sweetie…” She had said. Two men talking behind her. Her dad and Hill were gone. West was there.

“I'm sorry I asked,” Meg finally gathered, headache suddenly subsiding, like it never was. “Sorry for your loss, he must have been a wonderful mentor.” West bowed slightly and Meg did the same before turning around and going through the doors.

[cassandracain52]

What? No, my fav pairing with that character isn’t that rare-

…Nvm

[possamble]

realizing im kind of a weirdo about laios and marcille

[life-despair-and-monsters-blog]

Kinktober Day 23 & 26: "Bondage/Restraints" & "Voyeurism/Exhibitionism" - For OTP: "Femme Fatale and the Apex" (Sonya x Jennifer)

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @imogenkol and @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @adelaidedrubman @spookyrares @derelictheretic @inafieldofdaisies @noodlecupcakes @direwombat @voidika @cassietrn @aceghosts @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @cloudofbutterflies92 @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @g0dspeeed @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins and @florbelles + anyone else who want to join.

Prompt based on this kinktober post made by fellow mutual @starsandskies. While the main Kink of this post is "Bondage/Restraints" & some "Voyeurism/Exhibitionism", there's also some minor inclusions of "Dirty Talk", "Orgasm Control", "Praise Kink", "Knife Play" and "Dom/Sub dynamic". I would have put down "Naked-Clothed" but the "clothed" person in question is an almost 10-foot tall cyborg beastie (with a human's brain) whose only covering is metal welded into the flesh so... SHRUG!

Anyway, SimpleGenius here from my Life, Despair & Monsters Blog. Just making my first contribution to Kinktober. I'm not really an excessive smut writer, though with that being said, I have written it on occasion, just never posting it (...until now). This is a oneshot devoted to Sonya and Jennifer just being their kinky selves.

From the mature tag and the title you can probably already guess that this oneshot (which will also be uploaded onto my AO3 as well) contains explicitly sexual content meant for 18+ users only. Minors Do Not Interact!

Here's some more warnings to scare off any stowaways.

CW: Explicit BDSM, Teasing/edging, stripping, (tail???) knife play, the equivalent of thigh riding for these two (but on Sonya's tail), naked female with not kind of non-naked female (there's like barbie physiques/anatomy involved with Sonya), and minor mention of a blood kink (unsurprisingly Jennifer's kind of a freak too). Basically monster-fucking (maybe robot-fucking? Or would it be cyborg-monster fucking???). A mix between praise and degradation kinks. Sexual fantasies. Really freaky behavior coming from these two. But very enthusiastic consent! Also vulgar language. And whatever else there is.

I’ve tried my best to research the sex aspect of it all, and even if I don’t believe it’s all accurate I think I did good with what I could find.

TW: Slight mentions of referenced murder and maybe cannibalism (Sonya's got a human brain inside a very non-human body so I don't know what lines that crosses). And minor implications of a toxic dynamic. They're both possessive people who suck so bad.

With that out of the way, I hope you do enjoy what I've written below the cut. This will officially be my first smut that I've publicly published. I'll be sure to reblog this post with the link to the one that'll be posted on my AO3. Also I'll be publishing another Kinktober Oneshot shortly after this one from my @the-silver-chronicles blog, about the main couple of that series, Silva and Faith. So don't be alarmed by a random ping from an icon you may or may not recognize.

Title: The Tails That Bind

Series: Life, Despair & Monsters (Love Death + Robots)

Character/s: Sonya/Sonnie | The Apex/Khanivore (re-interpreted canon character with OC qualities), Jennifer, Dicko (referenced in passing) and Sir Enigma Malvolio (referenced OC).

Words: 5,635

She heard her before she saw her; the click-clack of heels on marble closing in to their quarters.

Sonya remained where she was though; hanging from the ceiling in the expansive space that was refurbished to specifically accommodate her massive form, the high walls adorned with deep claw marks and scrapes she entrenched her talons and tail spikes into. Certainly, better than the restrictive pod or the dirty paddocks.

In contrast to her usual straightforwardness, when it came to dealing with her "mistress" of all people, Sonya made an effort in entertaining her more dramatic flairs.

If only to piss off the shrewd woman.

The door opened with such force that when Sonya peeked through her only optic, shutters uncoiling from her lens, to witness the blonde slam the door shut with a ferocity that immediately turned her on.

Someone's already pissy today, Sonya noted as she continued to observe with growing interest.

Jennifer turned around, short blonde hair barely touching her shoulders, noticeably a little frazzled with a few more wild strands curling out than usual. Her yellow rose still managed to survive staying pinned in her hair in spite of the fact Jennifer looked on the verge of ripping her hair out.

Her brows were furrowed, her face was scrunched in anger and a lovely snarl adorned her lips. Blue eyes darted to her white laced gloves, ripping them off as she mumbled curses under her breath. Sonya's optic lingered on the curves of her body, covered only by the golden dress Jennifer preferred to wear.

Sonya preferred when she didn't wear anything. Ogling Jennifer had been the closest her human brain could get to experiencing arousal within a body that wasn't designed to feel it. She had to get creative and tamper with many of the strange machinations and codes Malvolio left in her cursed Beastie body to at least have her body acknowledge the feelings.

In spite of this, she was still so far from reaching her goal of actually feeling the satisfactory conclusion of pleasure.

"-that old fuck!" Sonya was brought back to reality by the enraged outburst from Jennifer.

"Which old fuck are you referring to this time?" Sonya spoke in a voice more mature and sophisticated than her original gruff and accented voice, the crackling of the speaker embedded in her throat alerting Jennifer to the other presence in the room.

Jennifer's alarmed blue eyes pointedly gazed up to meet her gleaming red optic. However, she relaxed once she saw it was just Sonya, who uncoiled herself to lower her body, but refrained from leaving the ceiling just yet.

"It's one of Dicko's closer business partners," Jennifer told the Apex, kneeling down to take off her heels, "And I thought you were down in your workshop."

That doesn't narrow it down to who it is at all, Sonya wanted to retort, but chose to respond with, "I was, but it's so hot down there that I decided to seek out the coolest room I knew of."

"The wonders of an air con," Jennifer remarked, moving over to her vanity desk to set down her yellow rose from her hair.

Sonya rolled her optic at the snide comment, and returned her attention back to the source of Jennifer's sour mood, "Which one of Dicko's partners had it been? Ross or Carmen?"

"Ross. Carmen took a vacation, lucky bastard," Jennifer grumbled about the latter, though the former's name was spoken with disgust, "He was countering every proposition I made. Questioning my ability as a successor to Dicko's business. And attempting to belittle me in front of every one of those weak and cowardly geezers. The absolute gall!"

Sonya lowered herself above the bed, talons underneath her jaw as she watched her mistress rage. If she could, she'd be squeezing her thighs together to add a little friction. Unfortunately, her body wasn't included with genitals, and rubbing her thighs together in this body would just be pointless, so she could only visualize the image to force herself from screaming internally.

"The fucker was also leering at me. Almost all of them were," Jennifer continued, sitting down onto the foot of her massive mattress with a huff.

"I don't blame them," Sonya replied, extending her neck so her head was close above Jennifer, "Your body is desirable. You're probably the only woman in their life they can jack off to. I know that's what I'd be doing."

Jennifer abruptly turned with a face full of red; not blushing red, but pissed off red.

"Oh, fuck you," she replied, standing up to move away from Sonya and the bed.

"You'd have to beg me for that," Sonya said in a sing-song rhythm, chortling.

Jennfier crossed her arms as she stewed in her anger more, "This is serious. I know they're conspiring against me. Honestly, I wish I could have them all dead by tomorrow morning."

Sonya piqued at that, red optic widening with optimism.

"You know, if Ross is being so bothersome," she spoke up, her next words a suggestion, "I could eat him for you."

Jennifer turned to look at the beastie, opened her mouth to chide her, but closed it as she considered the idea, a smile crossing her lips, until a frown swiftly replaced it, and she shook her head.

"While I certainly wouldn't be against the idea," she told the Apex with sincere consideration, she rebuked the idea, "I can't just make an example out of him. At least not right now. I require his cooperation to gain access to his assets, and if I killed him now, it'd harm my reputation and standing with the other partners. And without them, we won't have a chance of finding Malvolio."

The very name of that... thing made Sonya's entire nervous system shudder, the dark thoughts resurfacing. She let them fester at the edge of her mind, before dispelling them back to the pits. She'll let them re-emerge once they found the creature; let him face the result of his violation towards her body.

Jennifer huffed out a sigh, which returned Sonya's attention back to her even as she went to make her leave, "I need to let off some steam."

Sonya tilted her head as she watched Jennifer pause just a step away from the door. The woman's blue eyes glanced back to the beastie, gaze following the Apex's elongated muscled arms, thick metal-plated tails, their twitching rattles near the piercing pincers and closed sharp jaw.

She bit her bottom lip, her hands slid down to her hips as she slowly strutted back over to Sonya.

"You know," Jennifer said as she reached the bed, "I just remembered how I never thanked you for stopping that assassin. And a good beast like you deserves a fitting reward for protecting her mistress so well."

Sonya cocked her head, red optic narrowing down at Jennifer. Sonya remembered the incident clearly; there had been a scorned bidder who lost because of Dicko's fateful mistake of convincing them to bet a lot of money against Malvolio. He managed to slip past Jennifer's guards and got too close for Sonya's liking.

Luckily, the Apex was on Jennifer's patrol guard, and she had spotted the glint of the knife before it had even left its sheath. Fittingly, she gave the man the same end she gave Dicko when saving her mistress; a biting introduction to her maw.

But that had been several weeks ago.

"Is that so?" Sonya inquired, wishing she had a brow to raise.

Jennifer only nodded, wetting her petite lips. She slid two fingers on both hands underneath her dress' loose straps, letting them fall limply down her arms to expose more skin. She reached behind her back, tugging the zip down behind her dress so she could loosen her front, exposing a small amount of cleavage to the Apex.

Sonya was surprised of her own self-control when her lens zoomed in on the skin, how calm and collected she managed to breathe. She restrained herself though; she had too much pride in herself to lay down and roll over like a dog.

No, she had a better idea.

"Oh, don't bullshit me with your "reasoning" darling, you just want me to fuck your brains out until you forget your own name and can't remember your troubles in the morning," Sonya retorts, her talons touching the ground as she leans over the bed, bringing her head closer to Jennifer's face.

There was no fear in her mistress' eyes, only a waiting expectation and a carnality that involuntarily made the Apex shake in excitement. Sonya continued, "If you think you can flatter me into getting between your legs, then I encourage you to resume because it is working."

Jennifer grinned in triumph as she proceeded to pull her zipper down further, but halted when Sonya added, "However, as I said before, it'll require you to beg."

Jennifer scoffed and shook her head, "I'm not doing that. You fuck me, or you don't. Your choice."

Despite her confidence, Sonya saw through her act and huffed out a disappointed steam of air as she started retracting backwards, "Oh well, I guess I won't-"

With her bluff blown, Jennifer's eyes widened as she reached forward for the Apex's face, pleading, "Wait! Fuck, fine, please fuck me. Please plow my pussy with your long, flexible and magnificent tongue until my mind goes blank. Make me scream your name each time you make me cum. I'll do anything you want, Sonya."

Sonya wished she could grin just as badly as she wished she could get wet right now.

She decided to put an end to her mistress' misery.

"Since you begged so desperately for it, I guess I have no choice but to fuck your brains out," Sonya concurred, and hummed, "But I'm curious... you'll do anything I want?"

Jennifer paused, narrowed her eyes in challenge, and responded, "Yes. I'll... try whatever you want, as long as I get fucked in the end. Sound like a fair exchange?"

Sonya nodded and tapped a talon on her chin in thought. There weren't much things her body could be used for during sex that wouldn't be detrimental to Jennifer's health, with exception to her tongue and the rattles under her curved blades that tipped her tails.

Although, she recalled the night she and Jennifer had met and began their cooperation, specifically to the moment where the Apex had Jennifer restrained with her tails, That has been something I've wanted to do again.

Gaining an idea, she replied, "You know, I've been wanting to try some bondage on you."

Jennifer's face scrunched in confusion until Sonya's tails disconnected from the walls and awaited by the Apex's sides. There were three in total, all tipped with dagger like pincers, and two rattles that resided near the curve of the blade, which she's been allowed to use like a vibrator before.

Jennifer once again bit her bottom lip while she thought of those around her body.

"I have no complaints," she tells the beastie, though frowns at the state of the bed, "Though I'm not getting naked until the bed's cleared of your mess."

Sonya knelt up so she could get a better look at the bed. Her optic immediately spotted the dust and chips of the ceiling that managed to fall down.

Without much patience, Sonya took the solution of using her tails to tip the bed to the side and shake off all the unwanted variables, before setting it back down normally.

"That better?" she asked.

Jennifer looked at the newest state of her large bed, which now lacked the pillows and blankets that were unceremoniously tossed off. Though seeing that the silk sheets remained on, all Jennifer responded with was a calm yet exasperated, "Sure."

Sonya positioned herself closer to the wall of the bed's frame, knelt down so she wouldn't cover most of the bed's space when her head laid down, while also keeping her tails free and ready.

Jennifer crawled onto the bed, swaying her body seductively while she made her way over to the Apex's head, which allowed the straps of her golden dress to loosen further down, just above her elbows. The front of her dress barely hung close to her chest, and Sonya swore she felt her brain overheat when her optic focused on the view of more of Jennifer's cleavage barely hidden by the loose clothes.

Jennifer got close enough to the Apex's face just to lean upwards until she sat at her bare heels, one hand going behind to zip her dress down the rest of the way, while the other kept the front of her dress from falling down. Sonya slightly tilted her head up so her optic could capture everything.

"I know how excited you've been for this," Jennifer purred as she gazed into the red hue of Sonya's optic, "I know you've been craving to see these again."

She pulled one strap down all the way, and then freed her arm of the other, before grabbing her the front of her dress and pulling the golden gown down, slightly jiggling free her petite perky tits. Sonya shook with a passionate eagerness at the visual image, just about all her mind could express through the body without pouncing onto Jennifer to forgo the bondage altogether.

She wanted to restrain herself, to prolong this just long enough to enjoy the experience and ensure she actually succeeds in listening to Jennifer's only demand.

"I know you've missed them," Jennifer swayed her chest, catching the Apex full attention. She grabbed hold of her breasts, massaging and giving her tits a pleasing yet playful squeeze as Sonya observed, winding herself up while putting on a show for her beastie. She gasped as she flicked her nipples, gently twisting them between her fingers as the tingling sensations caused her thighs to rub together.

She was enjoying herself now, and from how she looked at Sonya's quivering form, she knew the Apex enjoyed this show as well.

Jennifer stood up, dragging her hands over her breasts as she brought them across the skin of her body, the ticklish senses stirring a heat to coil within her. She performed a sensual dance in view of Sonya's optic, bringing her hands down to her hips where her dress hung closely, thumbs digging under the gown's hem, teasingly dragging it below her pelvis.

She spun around in her erotic sway, much to Sonya's surprise, but leaned down as she dragged the rest of her dress over her sexy ass, nothing worn underneath. She let the golden gown fall the rest of the way and glanced back at Sonya's now widened optic. With a pleased smirk, Jennifer gave herself a resounding smack against one of the cheeks.

Sonya's talons scraped against the marble floor. She clenched her jaw as she clutched hold over her fraying self-control, deciding that Jennifer's teasing needed to end here.

Thankfully, it was just about time Jennifer finished her little striptease for Sonya, and her blonde mistress knelt on her heels, dainty hands grabbing hold one of the alien protrusions coming out the Apex's head and underneath the narrow chin of her sharp jaw respectively, intentionally pressing her petite breasts against the optic as she leaned her head down to a small slit beside Sonya's frame to sultrily whisper in her audio receptors.

"What now, Sonnie?"

The lustful softness of her nickname snapped Sonya out of her patient observations, and she lifted her head up out of Jennifer's hold so her red optic could meet her mistress' blue eyes below.

"Now, I'll require you to turn around," Sonya instructed, her tails moving closer to the bed, "Make sure your arms are crossed behind you, and legs spread apart."

Jennifer turned around as instructed; not without doing a little show of shaking her ass temptingly as she settled into the position. Sonya was fueled with even more excitement of the opportunity of returning some teasing of her own.

Jennifer crossed her arms behind her, and Sonya immediately coiled her middle tail around the smaller woman's waist which then extended to her dainty hands, earning a surprise yelp from her mistress as her arms were secured tightly.

"Do you trust me?" Sonya let the question out softly at the shell of Jennifer's ear, her middle tail's blade carefully and gently stroking its cool steel-like tip down the human's back. The bladed pincer soon curved to brush one of mistress' lower cheeks, sensing her body clench at the sensual contact on instinct while the other tails began to coil under and around her thighs, "To release your doubts? To let go of all your inhibitions?"

With me, Sonya left unsaid. She shunned the thought... the very emotion infecting it, aside to the corners of her mind. No need to mix feelings with pleasure. Especially when she was nothing more than a thing to Jennifer...

As both tails snaked up from Jennifer's thighs to her upper body, the left pincer delicately scraped along her stomach while the right began to curl around her right breast with the blade leaving a ghost of a kiss to her jaw in passing.

Jennifer gasped out a light moan when her middle tail began to rub against her wet cunt, in a back and forth motion, ensuring the blade's sharpness did not touch the soft flesh. Soon the sleek metal was glistened with her slickness.

"Fuck, yes," Jennifer answered approvingly, rocking her wet cunt in unison of the tail. She bit her bottom lip to suppress another moan as the left and right tipped tails coiled around her tits, the appendages lightly playing with her breasts with deliberate twists and squeezes, the blades lightly kissing along the sensitive flesh.

Sonya focused on the priority of not piercing the skin with her tipped blades. She teased the flesh with an expertise akin to a surgeon, with her only intent of not cutting in and letting Jennifer bleed.

God forbid Jennifer cums early to the sight of her own blood because Sonya got sloppy. The Apex wanted to prolong this for her own sense of pleasure as well.

Soon her tails lifted up Jennifer, much to the smaller woman's surprise. Sonya raised her above the beastie's head, claws brought on to the bed in case the Apex had to catch her.

Slowly, she rotated Jennifer upside-down so her optic could get a better look at her reactions. To her delight, Jennifer squirmed in her grip, like last time. Unlike last time, the cause of her squirming came from the vibrating rattles that grazed closer to her swelling clit, the tipped blade positioned to poke above her trimmed blonde pubic hair.

Jennifer whined when the rattles on the left and right tails began to move, flicking her erect nipples between the vibrating pair on both coiled tails. She tried to arch her back into the vibrating sensations, as well as attempted to widen her legs so the rattles on the middle tail would have more space, but Sonya kept her restrained in position, brushing the rattles to her wet puffy pussy but never staying for long. She was completely at Sonya's mercy.

Much to the younger woman's growing frustration. A frustration that transitioned into a filthy, primal need.

Sonya was enticed by the desperate whines that escaped Jennifer's mouth, her red optic hungrily filling it's view of her elevated bare body; held up by her, restrained by her, receiving and being denied pleasure from her.

She focused on the blonde's gaping pouts, faint blush forming across her face, her blonde hair flowing downwards. Sonya's tongue flicked within her closed maw at the sight of sweat beginning to break from her mistress' body, who uselessly rutted her hips in the air to reach the teasing rattles, how pronounced her small breasts were from their bound state and the slick juices surrounding her pussy.

Sonya's entire system felt a fluctuation of pleasure within herself from the visual stimuli. It wouldn't be enough to ever reach a satisfying conclusion, though it was fun, nonetheless. When her audio receptors picked up pleading mewls coming from Jennifer, Sonya knew it was nearly time to settle her part of this exchange.

"What was that?" Sonya playfully inquired, listening to the words being interrupted by soft gasps whenever her rattles vibrated too close to her sensitive cunt and swollen clit, "I can't hear what you’re trying to say over such lewd sounds darling. Could you perhaps speak up?”

Through shaky breaths, Jennifer swallowed her murmured pleas and choked out a strained, "Sonya... I don't know how much longer I can do this. I want to cum. Please, it's unbearable, let me cum already. Stop teasing and fuck me!"

Sonya ate up her begging cries; she could see a glimpse of forming tears at her eyes. She briefly wondered if she should just wait long enough for her mistress to start crying, so she could bring out her tongue and lap up the falling tears. She hadn't kissed the woman's face with her tongue in a while, it could be a nice change of pace to show she cared-

As quickly as that idea came, Sonya dismissed the thought with a visceral fear? rejection. If she did that, then she wouldn't stop at the tasteful tears; she'd continue stroking her tongue along Jennifer's sweaty and salty unmarked flesh, until she got down to between her thighs and fed on the fluids there.

She could make Jennifer cry from pleasure then, sure; but she didn't want to use her tongue to have the woman undone, she wanted her mistress gushing from her very touch.

Sonya refocused on Jennifer once more, her helpless form cursing underneath her breath as her breasts were continuously played with while her pussy received nothing but teasing touches that edged her on but denied her true release.

Sonya hummed, feigning pondering in thought, as she took a sweet moment to bask in the wanton whimpers that were caused by her.

"How badly do you want this?" Sonya asked her, bringing her red optic to Jennifer's pleading blue eyes, "How desperate are you to want to be undone by a terrible beast like me? Say it..."

Those two husky, imploring, eager words made Jennifer shiver, feeling hotter. Through the haze, she rasped out with a sense of urgent need she's never spoken in before, "I can think of no one else who can satisfy me like you..."

Though caught off-guard, Sonya was not unsatisfied with the answer. She absorbed those words into the very core of her mind, sparking a renewed sense of determination.

"Well then," the beastie said, Jennifer's words lingering on the precipices of her audio receptors, feeling her "heart" pump faster, "I think you've endured enough teasing. You deserve this for being such a good, patient girl."

Jennifer shrieked in surprise when the vibrating rattles were buried against her slick folds and sensitive clit. However, when the initial shock wore off, it was replaced with an alluring moan, followed by a symphony of gasps, the short bursts of pleased shouts, and the sweet curses that she managed through her panting. She closed her eyes and started to arch her back again, and this time Sonya adjusted her tails grip to accommodate Jennifer's position.

It wouldn't be long until she was finished. Though Sonya decided to speed up the process by taking advantage of one of Jennifer's weaknesses; her voice.

"You should see yourself," Sonya husked out, her voice thick with lust, "How fucking enrapturing you are right now. Above here, bound by me, fucked by me, you look like a goddess. Oh, your little noises make it so tempting to ravish your flesh and pussy so I can make you scream louder."

Jennifer failed to suppress the whiny, pathetic whimper with a tender lip bite, and Sonya snickered at the reaction.

"Oh, but it's true," Sonya responded, the quills along her back standing up, elated by such noises as she continued, "Though I never realized how restraining you like this could bring out even more beautiful noises from you. I could just have you like this whenever you're being so bratty. Rip that dress off. Bind your limbs. Tease your wet cunt, edging it as you rut like a bitch in heat chasing after that final release. But it'll never come. More accurately, you'll never cum."

The image of Jennifer on her knees in this bedroom, writhing in the restraints of Sonya's tail, desperately begging her to end the torment, brought a familiar sense of sadism into her system. However, she did feel an odd sensation of heat rise in her body.

She returned back to the assignment at hand, the heat radiating at the back of her mind as she hummed and said, "Oh can you envision it, Jennifer? How much of a writhing, filthy mess you'd be? You'd be left unsatisfied, without release. Not unless you crawled onto your knees and begged so pitifully. Maybe alone. Maybe not. But tell me, if you were to do that, should I give in and fuck you like I do now?"

A resounding and gasping "YES" was Jennifer's response as her hips jutted at the rattles faster. So close now...

"Such an enthusiastic answer. You must be so close now," Sonya noted, not noticing her own jaw gaping open as her red optic recorded Jennifer's unravelling, "You've taken me so well this far. Letting me taste you, ruin you. So strong and resilient. With the most perfect body just for me. You do these filthy activities so impressively, as a naughty girl like you should. Oh, I love the way your flesh bruises and reddens and scars from me. I love the taste of your tears, of your sweat and of your juices. And I love how loud I make you scream and cry and moan. Especially when the only word coming out of your mouth is my name. Makes me fantasize doing it all in front of everyone. What say you? Perhaps on a live hologram broadcast during a Beastie tournament? In the storage unit for all the passing guards and personnel to listen to? Or maybe in a meeting with those morons who dare to ogle you-?"

Sonya was interrupted by an abrupt and approving moan, which slipped into a pleased humming smile from Jennifer.

"Oh? You like that idea? Is that what you want?" Sonya inquired with an endeared curiosity, surprised by the quick nod that followed, "Does it turn you on? At the thought of me fucking you in front of those leering senile men? My, my. What a dirty little slut you are, wanting to be humiliated by me so desperately that you would want those old fucks to see how good I make you feel. Or perhaps it because you want to show them that you're mine. For me, and me alone. No one else. Maybe in one of your next meetings, I'll accompany you. And whenever you go to speak, I'll be behind you, my long, flexible and magnificent tongue lapping at the nape of your neck, nibbling at the flesh with teasing little bites, my claws digging at your glimmering dress. One tail snaking under your skirt. Maybe I'll leave small cuts in passing, letting that lovely crimson run down those fine legs of yours. But once that tail reaches its destination, I'll let the vibrations tease your wet cunt until your legs begin to wobble."

"I'll tear open the front of your dress, let those ravishing tits of yours breathe within a room where they've been dreamed about for so long, except the only one having any fun with them there will be me," Sonya had a tail squeeze promisingly around one of Jennifer's tits as emphasis, "I'll have another tail play with one while my tongue lavishes the other. Don't worry, I'll have my last tail free to ensure none of them stop us, and no one leaves, bound by their pathetic fear. I'll rip your dress off, exposing your body to them all, let them see how dripping fucking wet you are for me, and I'll pick you up, bring you to the table, splayed out like a feast ready to be dined. But only for one though."

She pressed her closed jaw to whisper, "None of them will touch you. We'll show them how well you take me. How beautiful you sing my name. How much you enjoy being fucked dirty by me, and how good of a naughty girl you are to me. Show them you find more pleasure whoring yourself to a beastie than being touched by any of their limp dicks. Reveal your deadliness to them, unleash your claws and mark my metal with your scratches as I leave my own marks along your beautiful body. I bet their hearts would give out at the sight. I don't think their weak pride could take it. The fact you'd cum to a- disgu- terrible monst- beast like me, wouldn't you agree, my sexy- gorgeous- beautif- fucking - goddes- belov- m-!"

Everything was so unbearably hot. Her mind seemed to be on some kind of fritz, just like her voice box. Diagnostics on the system returned with nothing of issue, nor of any errors.

And yet Sonya felt so unbelievably strained from the task at hand. As if exhaustion of all things was overcoming her body as she continued to bring Jennifer closer to her release.

And her voice box. She didn't understand what was wrong with it. It bugged out, replacing words she wanted to say with those she'd never in her life say to Jennifer. But most importantly...

Was that my voice? Not her current voice, the one she was forced to adopt, but the one that Malvolio stole from her.

It didn't matter much, focusing on it was too much of a strain while she was fucking Jennifer at the same time. She refocused her efforts in bringing her mistress over the edge.

Luckily, she didn't have to wait long.

Her words, in combination to the unrelenting rattles fucking her pussy and fondling her breasts, had culminated in Jennifer arching her back more while screaming out Sonya's name, accompanied by the gushing squirts onto the Apex's tail.

Witnessing the result, Sonya swiftly stopped the rattles and brought Jennifer down to the bed safely. She managed to lay the woman down onto her front before her usually durable limbs failed her. She caught herself from laying on top of Jennifer, and carefully positioned herself to lay down by Jennifer's left.

Both beastie and mistress heaved for air, the activity exhausting for both parties involved, much to Sonya's bafflement.

They laid beside each other, just for the moment, to catch their breath.

Jennifer opened her blue eyes to just gaze at the Apex, eyes taking in Sonya's strangely exhausted form. She brushed a strand of her now messy and sweaty blonde hair aside, let out a little laugh, and said, "That was... amazing."

Sonya grunted in agreement, unable to currently verbalize. She did use enough strength to bring the tipped middle tail to her view, the rattles and the curved blade under it glimmering in Jennifer's juices, not dissimilar to the woman's dress.

She opened her jaw to bring her tongue out, cleaning up the slick fluids. She rumbled approvingly at the sweetly sour taste.

Her audio receptors picked up on the soft sound of a slick pussy being gently stroked. Sonya looked over to see Jennifer still staring at her but with a newfound hunger. Sonya noticed that her ass was slightly bent up, with one of her hands massaging her cunt.

"You look so hot when you do that," she husked out, and Sonya felt her exhaustion dissipate when Jennifer asked, "Do you want to put that tongue to better use?"

Sonya tilted her head, her lens focusing on Jennifer's face, "Round two? Now?"

"Don't you remember what we agreed on? "Until my mind goes blank", "until I forget my own name" and "can't remember my troubles in the morning"," Jennifer recalled, and in that sultry mocking tone of hers, "Or are you tapping out after round one?"

A new edge burned within Sonya, and she leaned up, looking down at Jennifer's nude body, asking, "Is that a challenge?"

Jennifer though playfully shrugged, spreading her legs wider as she continued stroking herself with hushed breathy moans.

Sonya took the opportunity to place her right hand over on the other side of Jennifer, until she was above the woman. She retracted until she was staring at both her mistress' sexy ass and her glistened pussy.

Blue eyes glanced to Sonya's observing form, and removed her slick-covered hand, caressing it on one of her ass cheeks before giving it a smack to entice the beastie, as she returned her hand to under her chin.

Sonya let out an amused chuckle as she took out her tongue. However, she pressed it from her mistress' tail bone all the way up her spine, the heat and wetness of the elongated and rough bio-mechanical muscle causing Jennifer to gasp and shiver from its texture.

Sonya lowered herself so she was right on top of her mistress, her gaping jaw releasing a soft exhale of hot steam brush at the woman's ear.

"You're not going to make it to any meetings tomorrow," Sonya informed her mistress.

Jennifer only smirked at her words, not returning a reply as she got comfortable. The beastie retracted back to where her mistress needed her the most.

Though unnecessary, Sonya couldn't help but lick around her mouth as she prepared to satiate her hunger, as well as Jennifer's.

[A/n] And from there on, Jennifer decided bondage was an excellent excuse to get out of a meeting she didn't want to attend the next day.

I wanna say that I may have gone a bit overboard, but overboard is just in-character for them (at least in my series).

[you-are-not-here]

Ever since I learnt of the real way to see something’s popularity is to check how many fics there are on ao3 I had to test it real quickly and

0

0 fanfics

This show was advertised everywhere every time there was a new season, they made the first season out to be this huge event, it has a spinoff, they said it was a global phenomenon

three years, coming up to it’s fifth and final season and not a single one shot less then 1000 word fanfiction

nothing

[packet-of-staples]

Where are all of the Harvey x Elliott Stardew shippers at??? I only know of ya'll from Ao3 but I cant find the ship like anywhere else??

Cmon we gotta come together. Please :[.

[miraclesnail]

kronus AU, title still pending

chapter 8, 9, 10, 11

First chapter, previous chapter, next chapter

8 SILENA

A walk. 

That was the lie Travis told them when he left this morning. But she and Bianca know better. A walk is the last thing Travis would be doing. He would be frantically scavenging for any sort of edible food that remains, for any medical supplies that have all run out a year ago, for a way out of this hellhole they made for themselves. And without her there to hold Travis back, he can cover 10 times more ground. 

Silena isn’t upset about being lied to. It’s more of a white lie than anything. A lie to spare her feelings. A lie to not make her feel so bad about being a deadweight. She’s fine with it. Not really. She has come to terms with it. Why can’t she do more? And she is over it. She is done with wallowing in self-pity. There are things she can’t do compared to her three companions and she is fine with that. 

So Travis lied to her about the walk. That’s fine. 

Scavenging is fine. 

But not shirt picking in their ruined camp. 

Not reversing all his scars. 

Not duplicating himself so Silena’s hearing one Travis and seeing another. 

Not go somewhere where she’s hearing Annabeth’s voice asking her for answers and demanding to know what she did and who is she who is she speaking to why aren’t you answering are you there hellohellohellohellohello

Bianca stares back at her, holding Travis’s limp body in her thin arms. Travis never fell for her charmspeak ever since Luke taught him how to resist it. So this can’t be Travis. This is just an imposter. It has to be. 

Bianca stares at her, uncertain and alarmed. “What’s wrong, Silena? Why is Travis asleep? Who are you talking to?”

Bianca stares at her with wide, seeking eyes that’s only ever directed at Travis. Silena hates it, hates this pressure that’s passed to her, hates how she immediately looks for Travis or someone else to pass it off too because she doesn’t know. 

Why was she made third in command? Who even needs a third in command in their four person group? Why does Bianca even bother looking at her for guidance? She’s just as lost and clueless. 

Silena bites back her fear and presses the phone against her chest, willing her voice to exude a fraction of confidence their leader always seems to carry. “Go take Travis back to the base. I’ll meet you in a bit.”

Bianca hesitates, Silena smiles wider and nods for her to go, Not-Travis snores away dead asleep, before Bianca nods and leaves with Travis. 

Silena waits to make sure Bianca is fully gone before pressing the phone back to her ear to hear Annabeth still demanding her to answer but now coupled with other voices. Clarisse’s. Percy’s. Will’s and Nico’s. A whole bunch more she can’t recognize. And they’re all saying each other’s name. Not dead then. Alive. They’re alive. It’s impossible. This is a trick. A hallucination. A side effect of always going to bed hungry and waking even hungrier.

Silena closes her eyes, gathers her thoughts, gathers her breath, wills her voice to be steady, fails, and starts choking up when she remembers the way things used to be. 

It’s not them. It can’t be them. There’s no way. Just pretend it’s not them.

And what she is sure is hours later, Silena finally says, “Hello?”

“Who is this?” Fake-Annabeth immediately demands. “What did you do to Travis?”

So Travis is there then. Silena brushes a strand of hair back behind her ears. Think this through, Silena. Confirm it's actually Travis. 

“Let's switch to video mode.”

“… how do I do that?”

Silena clutches the phone. So this isn’t Annabeth then. A god impersonating her? A hallucination? 

“I’ll turn it on. You just press the green button when it comes on the screen.”

“Okay.”

Silena brings the phone away and presses the button in between the phone and the stick figure, a symbol for a camcorder. She hits it. It rings once, twice, then the blank screen flashes white, before readjusting, and there in the middle, exactly as Silena remembers her from before her death, healthy and well, Annabeth Chase. 

Oh gods. 

It’s her. 

It’s really her. 

Annabeth squints, bringing her face close to the camera. “I can’t see you. It's too dark.”

Silena presses her back against the wall and sinks to her knees. 

“See who? Who are you talking to?” Perseus Jackson says, coming up behind Annabeth and squinting into the phone, also healthy with this liveliness in his sea-green eyes. 

Silena presses her face into the crook of her arm and wills her tears and grief and anger at the unfairness of it all back. They’re not real. I want them to be real. It’s a hallucination. I wish this was reality. This is a lie. But what if this whole ordeal had been a nightmare and she’s finally waking up now. 

Off-screen Silena hears a fist smacking against an open palm and Clarisse la Rue’s voice, with all its burly and growly hitches, strong without a hint of defeat. “I bet it’s Kronos’s punks.”

“Who are you?” Annabeth asks again. 

Or maybe she’s finally losing it. She’s nowhere near as strong as the rest of them. Maybe this is the start of her mental breakdown. 

“Hello?” Annabeth says, squinting. “S — … say something.”

“I…” Silena takes a deep breath and presses the heel of her hand into her eye. “I… want to see Travis.”

The camera is whirled around, obviously they had no idea they can just flip the cameras, to Travis on the ground. 

Silena chokes on her tears when she sees Will and… and… is that Connor? It has to be Connor because the one on the ground unconscious has to be Travis. It is Travis. That’s the clothing Travis had earlier this morning when he went outside. 

Make sure though. You have to make sure.

“Pull his turtleneck down,” Silena asks, watching Will and Connor squint at her. 

“Who is that?”

“She’s not saying.”

“Then why are we doing what she says?”

“You know, that’s a good question. Hey, tell us who you are—”

It’s a cacophony of voices, both recognizable and unrecognizable, but the only thing that matters is Will. Silena watches him do as she asks. There’s a furrow in his eyebrow when his fingers make contact with Travis’s skin. He hesitates and Silena wonders if he can feel how bad the wound is beneath the fabric. 

Then he tugs it down. 

Immediately Will stiffen. The talking in the background stops. Silena looks away as soon as she confirms the mess of badly sewn together skin, the bite not even a tiny bit healed in the year and a half since the incident. That’s definitely Travis. 

“Don’t heal him,” Silena warns when she notices Will’s hands glowing. “It will make everything worse.”

“What? Worse how!? This is obviously a life threatening injury. I'm surprised that Travis is even alive!”

“Just don’t,” Silena finishes, knowing the explanation isn’t enough but it's all she can muster right now.

“Tell us what’s going on. You said this is Travis, right? Then what happened to him to become like this.” Annabeth demands. 

The boy in their camp shirt Bianca rescued… Silena supposes that’s what Travis was like before all this. Did they switch the past and present self? Did Travis time travel to the past? Is that even possible? But that Travis looks too old so he can’t be… can he? What if she’s just misremembering? Or what if this is a trick? What if Athena or Hades is playing with them? Should she charmspeak them? Keep them frozen until Travis wakes up several hours from now? They were fighting earlier otherwise he wouldn’t have called her yelling so these people can’t be friends. 

But they aren’t attacking Travis now, are they? And it looks not a single person was hurt or dead, so Travis was holding back. So… they weren’t fighting? Is she assuming too much? Is Travis okay with these people and her acting now will ruin the peace? 

All these thoughts, all these choices, all these unknowns, and the only one who might know what's going on is asleep.  Silena can’t do this by herself. She needs Travis to tell her what’s next, the plan, the course of action. She doesn’t have enough information. But Travis is bound to know what’s going on. He always does and he always knows what to do. 

“Let’s wait for Travis to wake up.”

“Then wake him up. You put him to sleep, right?”

Silena shakes her head before realizing they can’t see her.  “No. He needs a minimum of an hour rest.”

“Why?”

Ah. They don’t know. She chews her cheeks. Should she tell them? Wouldn’t Travis already tell them if they were friends why? Would Travis want her to tell them? Knowing him, no. Never. He would rather die. 

“Why?” Annabeth asks again, not as patient this time and Silena blurts.

“He needs the rest, otherwise he gets cranky and a bit… short-tempered?” Is that the best word to use? Should she have used violent? Or maybe murderous? 

There’s this glint in Annabeth’s eyes. A hard look that Silena doesn’t like. A stare Annabeth only ever reserves for enemies. “So what I’m getting at here is that Travis is dangerous.”

Silena panics more. Everything she says is making it worse. “No! Travis isn’t dangerous. Trust me. If Travis wanted you dead, you all would be dead a thousand times over by now.”

9 WILL

Will stares at the wound. It’s from a bite rather than an injury from a tool. About 45 millimeters long and too deep to be survivable. The carotid artery was definitely bitten. Will can sense the damaged, inflamed tissues throbbing underneath the shabby stitches. The size and shearing along the edges doesn’t seem to indicate an animal did it, but something more humanoid. 

The pain must be unimaginable. It must be unbearable. 

But Will can fix this. He can make it better. And he should. He’s going to. 

But the mysterious girl with the weirdly familiar voice in a panicky voice is saying something about how the pain keeps Travis in check. 

“Don’t. Please, Will. It will make the situation worse. Travis is fine. He was functioning, wasn’t he? He doesn’t want help so please don’t.”

He never said his name. None of them ever said who they are but the girl knows them all. Annabeth. Percy. Clarisse. Nico. 

“He doesn’t want it healed,” the girl finally says. 

Will stares at the empty bottle of nectar he had tried to give earlier. 

“Can I at least dress the wound properly?” he tries compromising. 

“… ask him when he wakes up.”

Okay but what if he does anyway?

“Will, please don’t,” the girl pleads like she knows what he’s thinking, now he’s more certain than ever he knows this girl from somewhere. It’s familiar but he can’t place a face to this person. But her voice, it brings up memories. Of a four year long war, of Lee and Michael, of a dying pine tree, of funeral pyres. The name is on the tip of his tongue but he just can’t remember. 

But fine. 

Fine. 

He won’t. 

“Let’s put him back on the bed,” he tells Clarisse. “You get his legs. I got his head. Nico, you support the back.”

Should he also mention Travis is devastatingly light? He’s way too light for someone his height should be at. They lift him with ease and plop him down on the cushioned bed with care. Well, he and Nico with care. Clarisse more like tosses the legs onto the bed before stomping back to Annabeth still on the phone with Percy huddled beside her. Connor stands next to Annabeth, talking and rubbing his neck and oh yeah, Will is reminded that Travis was just minutes earlier strangling his brother.

Will pushes his way through the group, asking as he comes up, “You okay? Are you having trouble breathing and swallowing?” 

Connor shakes his head, then rubs his neck in a very unconvincing way. “No, Travis didn’t squeeze.”

“I still don’t believe this guy is ‘Travis’,” Clarisse spits. “Do you honestly think Travis can do that? Stab me, choke you, fight us off and actually kind of win? No. This is definitely an imposter.”

Will checks to make sure, brushing Connor’s hand away to feel for himself, and Connor’s right. No bruising. No red marks. It was nothing more than a light touch.

“Wait, wait, wait. Before we go into all that, we need to talk about that… that… vision, or memory, or whatever that was!” Leo stammers coming over to them, his hands pointing at who knows where. “We all saw it, right?! Right?”

“Yeah, so what?” Clarisse grunts. 

“I definitely do not remember anything like that happening,” Leo states. 

Piper nods beside Leo. “Me too.” 

 “So it was a fake vision. A tactic to distract us,” Clarisse dismisses. 

“But—”

“It’s just a trick,” Clarisse snaps, whirling to face the duo. “A ploy. A ruse. Something to help him escape. It doesn’t mean anything.”

But it’s all a mask. Underneath all the biting remarks, Clarisse is just scared and confused. 

“Uhhh, I don’t know if it means anything,” Connor starts, “But when Travis was on top of me and he had his hands around my throat, he smiled and—” 

Clarisse snorts. “So what? Travis laughs at the littlest things.” 

“—his eyes they, uh. They. They turned. Um. Okay, before I tell you guys, you all have to promise to believe me when I say Travis and I will never ever willingly join Kronos. Maybe if we were forced or brainwashed to do it but we will never out of our own choice join him. We’re 100% on the Gods side. Hashtag Team Olympians and all that.”

“Okay,” Annabeth says, calm as ever. “We got it. Go on.”

Connor rubs the back of his head, his eyes not meeting theirs as he finishes quietly. 

“When Travis was on top of me, he smiled and his eyes… his eyes, uh, they did something weird, like—“ Connor swallows. “His eyes turned gold. Like— like when Luke, when he was — When Luke was—”

“When Luke was possessed by Kronos.” 

10 ANNABETH

***Fix later

“Well, what do you have to say to that?” Annabeth asks the girl on the phone.

And Silena Beauregard coughs to clear her throat. “Um, yeah. About that. Umm. I don’t know what you want me to say. Travis will tell you if he feels like it when he wakes up.” 

This is Silena’s voice. Annabeth knows it's her because they had spent hours together Iris Messaging about her math homework. There’s no mistaking it. She is speaking to Silena.

But Silena has long since been dead, happily living in Elysium with Beckendorf so it can’t be her. Maybe the gods are playing a cruel joke on her. Maybe Hera didn’t like her redesigned palace in Olympus and this is her punishment. 

Annabeth keeps her opinions to herself as Silena continues to blabber about Travis needing to be tied to something sturdy. It makes him feel ‘better’ and ‘safe’. Clarisse complies maybe a bit too eagerly and definitely too roughly as she lurches his wrists together with a handcuff to a nightstand.

“Oh. No, you can’t use that. Travis will get out of those in seconds,” Silena tells them. “You have to use something with more, uh, complications. Like a magic self-tying rope or, um, like a high-grade mechanical lock. You know, the ones only Charlie can make.” 

Percy flinches. Clarisse stiffens, the both of them realizing the same time as her. 

Only one person calls Beckendorf by that name. 

“Charlie? Who’s Charlie?” Leo whispers to Piper and Calypso. 

“Beckendorf is dead,” Annabeth answers the same time Clarisse, voice thick with unhidden grief, says, “Silena?” 

Silena laughs, high-pitched and nervous. “Yeah, I know. Don’t remind me. But you guys still have his stuff around, right?” 

“He’s dead, Silena,” Annabeth continues, “And you’re supposed to be dead too.” 

“What? No. No. You’re getting it all wrong. You’re the dead one,” Silena fires back without pause. 

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You died in Manhattan. A drakon melted you,” Percy says, choking on his words, “You were impersonating Clarisse and led the Ares cabin into battle. You… saved us with what you did. You died saving us.”

“That’s not funny.” The bitterness in Silena’s voice is a surprise. “You really think I can do something as brave as that? Give me a break.”

“Silena—” Clarisse tries, but from the other line, there’s the sound of shoes scruffing tile and glass. 

“You know what? I’m done here. I’m waiting for Travis to wake up. See you all in an hour. None of you are allowed to touch him or hurt him until he’s awake.”

Annabeth barely has time to process the charmspeak before the call disconnects. 

11

The familiar burning, excruciating pain. 

That’s what he wakes up too. 

[oh good. You’re awake. I was getting tired of pretending I was still asleep.] is the first thing he hears. 

[We need to find a backup to the backup pill. I had a situation] is the next thing which is exactly what he doesn’t need. 

He mentally prepares for the worse. Everybody is gone. Bianca and Nico raised the dead. Perseus caused another storm. The gods are against them. It’s just him, this guy, and the titan now. He has nobody else. 

So when he opens his eyes to find the Big House intact and the sky still free of clouds with just the slightest hint of orange, not a single thing out of the ordinary, he’s confused. He’s on his side, his head on a soft pillow with a comforter over him. It’s… soft. It’s clean. It smells really, really good and feels even better. He wonders if he could somehow sneak one or two or maybe five comforters back with him to give to the others. He peaks over his shoulder to find the room bare. Nico and Will are beside the table, looking through his weapon. Conn— Leo, Calypso, and Piper, talking in a group beside the door. Just those six. 

Where’s the rest of them? He rests the palm of his hand against the wall silently and focuses. There’s… about 5 others in the conference room. Two in the attic. One in the basement on their way back up. That leaves about 6 unaccounted for, but if he had killed them, he doesn’t think they’ll leave him this unsupervised.

What are you talking about? Everything looks fine. 

[No. Will made me throw the pills up. I got it under control somewhat by calling Silena, but I’m sorry. The titan threw some memories around. They might ask about that. Then he was about to choke your brother but I—]  

What?!

He bolts upwards and kicks the comforter off him, drawing everybody’s attention. He hears the chairs scraping and weapons leaving their sheath as he bounds over to Connor. 

“Are you okay?” The words come out first before his stupid eyes kick in. Connor looks fine. Not even a bruise on his neck. And now everybody is staring at him with half having their weapons drawn. 

[— stopped him so he’s fine.]

Maybe he should have waited and finished listening.  

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Connor squeaks, stiff as a board. But a corner of his mouth twitches up into a crooked smile. “Uh, thanks for asking!”

His heart twists and turns and screams at the familiarity. 

Great. I'm glad, he tries to stay but it sticks to his throat. All he hears is his heart pounding and a voice in the back of his mind telling him this isn’t his brother, his own brother would never look at him like that, would never smile like that, would never act like that. And it’s all his fault. [No. It’s not. It was an accident.] 

A hand on his arm. A gentle voice, scolding and firm but caring. “Stop that. You’ll tear open the stitches.”

He peels his eyes back open to find Will beside him, softly but insistently tugging his hand away from where he was digging into his neck. 

“You saw,” he states emotionlessly, pulling his arm free and stepping back, the automatic, practically ingrained, fibbing starting right away, “It's not that bad. It doesn’t even hurt.”

Their collective faces tell him no one even remotely believed him. 

“I’m fine. I swear,” he lies, looking away from all their stares. It makes him uncomfortable. Their blatant concern. Their obvious worry. No bloodlust, no anger, no pain. It’s weird. It’s unnerving. It makes his heart twist and pang and want what will never come. 

“I’m fine,” he says again, weakly. 

“No. You’re not,” Will says, stepping up to him, eyes hard. “Not with that injury. Not after that stunt.”

“I—” Travis starts, but stops. What is he supposed to say? I know what it looks like, but I was not trying to kill myself. It was to make sure I don’t kill any of you. 

“Travis. It’s okay. You don’t have to be scared. We won’t hurt you. Just—” Connor starts, sounding perfectly normal and reasonable, just like his old self. Like nothing bad ever happened. Like he could just pretend he’s alright and nothing is wrong, like the past two years were nothing more but a bad dream. 

If only. 

“Where’s my phone?” he asks instead because that’s safe. That’s a goal he can focus on. [Not here.] 

None of them have it. No reason to stay then. 

He starts backing towards the door, debating if he can get to it before the other six. But Will catches on and grabs his wrist to stop him. It takes all he has to not flinch. Last time Will caught him, he gave his leg a bad case of gas gangrene. [Will’s not dead here. Don’t lash out.] 

“You’re in no condition to be moving about,” Will scolds. 

“Stay here,” Piper persuades, voice gentle and his chest warms, aches with emotion that’s not his own. “Rest.”

He pushes back against the charmspeaking and shakes his wrist free, stepping back. Before any of them can come closer, he digs the heel of his shoe down into the floor and kicks up. The floor comes with his shoe, creating a makeshift wall that collides with the ceiling. Whoops. He was a bit too eager there. He looks behind him to make sure the floor isn’t stretched too thin. As great as this power is when it comes to remodeling, he can only work with what he has. Great news, the floor did not split in half. He’ll fix this when it’s all over. 

“What the hell?” he hears Leo say. 

Guess his counterpart here doesn’t have his home-remodeling ability. 

Weird. 

[I still think the ability belongs more with M—Athena’s children. They’re the architects.] Dad was the god of hospitality. And part of hospitality is making sure the house is cozy, so we are connected to architects in a way. [I guess, but wouldn’t I get the same power? My d—] 

A board creaks behind him. A hand hovers over his arm. He reacts out of instinct, out of reflex. He grabs the wrist of the hand and twists, sweeping his leg at the same time to knock the zombie down. He’s already pulling the arm taunt across his chest in an arm lock with the back of knees on the neck when he realizes it’s Nico and not an undead. 

“Whoops. Sorry,” he says, loosening his grip immediately and tries not to think about how close he was to snapping Nico’s neck. 

Nico glares at him on his back, obviously not pleased, twisting a hand around his joggers and shadow-traveling them back into the room. 

It’s not like he hadn’t shadow-travel before. Bianca has used it on them multiple times as a last resort kind of deal when the situation calls for it. Normally, he handles it fine. But this time? This time he is not handling it fine. He’s not handling it at all. 

But there’s no option here. Push past the nausea. Find the phone. 

“Nico?” Will says, alarmed, voice distant. (Blood and open holes and gushing wounds, pained and dying screams, a plea to end the misery, an apology for never being enough) [it’s not real you’re not there]

“I’m fine,” Nico grunts, getting out under him. “I think I surprised him and he retaliated. I’m not hurt, Will. Don’t worry.”

As soon as Nico is away, he takes the opportunity to dig a hand into the ground and lift the floor up like it’s a rug. He rolls through the open flap, pulls it shut behind him, and promptly falls ten feet to the basement floor. He lands hard on his hands and knees and fuck. He feels it hard into his bones as the pain reverberates through his whole body. 

[you okay?] Yeah. Fine. 

It’s not a moment later that Nico is there behind him again. And again he puts him in an armlock. 

Nico grunts, rolls some, but realizes there’s no way he’s getting out and tries to shadow travel again. Further this time. In a more twisty and convoluted route. Probably to disorient him. It’s working very well. He’s getting more nauseous by the minute. But he has been through worse. 

When Nico exits out of the tunnel, he retightens his grip and knees until they’re in lock again. He’s planning on ditching Nico immediately. Nico is already panting. He’s bound to give up after one or two rounds. But it’s light he sees it in the eyes, the way they’re defiant and determined. Nico isn’t going to give up until he’s way past his limits. 

“Look, I… I just —” He loosens his grip, lets Nico wriggle out beneath him, before pulling himself into a crossed-leg sitting position. “I just need to find my phone. I need to check back with Silena. They’re in danger and I got to see if they got out safely.” 

Nico glares, and he remembers Bianca glares the same way whenever he goes out by himself. They’re equally not terrifying anymore. 

“Then just say that. One of us would have escorted you.” Then Nico grabs him and shadows-travels again. 

Nico drops them off in front of Annabeth [great!] and Perseus, fuck no. Before anyone can get close, he plants his foot flat on the ground and kicks up with his heel. The wooden floor follows his foot and goes up like it’s made of putty, wood contorting and creaking and nearly snapping. But it doesn’t and it creates an effective blockade as it touches the ceiling.

He hears complaints from the other side, “Woah, what is this? What did Travis just do?” 

“What the fuck was that, Stoll? I literally plopped you right in front of her!”

“No. Not him. Not with Perseus there. I don’t want to be anywhere near him.” 

No Perseus. No Leo. No Piper. No Will. Not his brother. Preferably no one but this world’s Silena and Bianca. He wonders if he could somehow achieve that. 

“Well, tough luck.”

With a quick inhale and exhale, Nico drops them off at Annabeth and Perseus’s feet but much closer this time. 

This fucking sucks, he thinks as he kicks up the floor into another wall and Nico again gets ready to Shadow Travel. *****

xxxxx

He wakes up to the horrid and gloomy sound of rain. The bringer of sad campers. The tall tell of canceled activities. The start of endless complaints and whines from all ages. 

Travis hates the rain. 

It makes his job so much worse. 

Granted, it doesn’t rain much in Camp Half Blood. But the few times it did, it always meant horrible news. 

And it makes everything damp. And it smells so gross. And the stupid wet, clinging leaves. Oh gods the leaves and the raking and the constant raking. 

Plus the rain dripping onto his face is what wakes him up from his pleasant dream to this Hades hole. 

Travis hates the rain. 

But at least it gives him something to think about. Anything is better than thinking about his current situation. He’s currently crouching beside a broken, jarred door kept in place by only one hinge, peeking through the tiniest of openings, peeping like some kind of creep. The damp and soggy mattress he wakes up in with the thin, raggedy blanket is the only thing in the barren room. Nothing else. 

A drop of what he hopes is water falls from the ceiling, hitting him square in the eye and Travis grits his teeth and stifles a groan. 

Travis hates the rain. 

But more than that, he hates Kronos. 

And right outside the door, two dead people are talking to each other. About him. And what they’re going to do. To him. With a third voice, another girl’s, raspy and hoarse, barely audible, nothing more than a muffled murmur. No matter how much he shifts, Travis can’t see the third person. 

Should he still try to make a run? It’s risky though. What if he tries to escape and run directly into person 3? Then what will happen to his escape plan? Should he even escape? Didn’t Bianca save him from Michael who just left him as dinner for Lou Ellen? What is he saying, of course he should escape. Silena was a traitor! So Bianca must be too! But… Silena repented, even died for them… she’s good now. So why did she charmspeak him when he wasn’t doing anything in the first place? Why was she talking with Connor on the phone? Why was Connor screaming like that in the first place? Is he hurt? Is he in danger? 

What should he do? Connor, what should he do? Someone please tell him what to do. He’s never had to do this before. He has never been in a situation like this without his brother by his side or without Annabeth or Percy in the lead. He never had to make the calls. Someone made them and he followed their orders. That’s his role. That’s his position in this world of otherworldly beings. 

A NPC that stayed out of the limelight. A side-character that’s meant to have zero purpose. A random guy that’s just enjoying life and chilling out. 

But you’re here now and this is reality, so get it together and stop freaking out. 

Travis isn’t freaking out. He’s not scared. He’s been in worse situations. He’s been in far worse, far scarier situations. This is nothing! Nothing at all!

Travis clasps his trembling hands to his chest and gets his breathing under control. He still has his weapon with him. He’s fine. All his organs and limbs are still with him. He’s going to be fine. 

If they wanted him dead, he would already be dead. If they’re not dangerous then him running isn’t going to do anything. But if they are dangerous, then him running is a big brain, Annabeth-approved move! Right? Right?! That sounds reasonable. 

Travis looks around the room again, for another escape route, for anything to use as a weapon, but there’s nothing except for the sad mattress and the jarred door. 

And the broken, paneless window. 

Travis creeps to the window and looks down, the ground being nothing more than a sea of fog that the rain does nothing to penetrate through. To the left, there’s another window. And to the left of that window, there’s also another window. Perfect! He can sneak past Bianca, Silena, and the mysterious 3rd person. 

Okay then. 

Okay. 

He can do this. 

He can do this! 

Travis grips the window frame. It feels loose which did absolutely nothing to boost his confidence. He hops onto the sill, heart stopping as his feet skids against the wet frame. He doesn’t slip off though, doesn’t even lose his balance, but it’s a reminder that he should have invested in non-slip shoes. In fact, he vaguely remembers Annabeth lecturing him and Will about the grip on their shoes and how it’s ‘not appropriate’ and it ‘will end with you dead one day’ and ‘it will let you down at the worst time’. 

What amazing foresight Annabeth had. He really wished he heeded her warning all those years ago. 

With a deep breath, Travis leaps on top of the frame, hands gripping concrete slabs to steady himself. There’s nothing for his hands to grip to. His survival will depend solely on his shoes with their bad grip. How should he do this? Back against the wall so he can see just how far the fall is? Chest to the wall so his toes are the only thing supporting him? Eh. He can flip-flop the technique. There’s at least two windows to get past anyway. 

Travis scoots his foot further out, just a few centimeters past the window. There’s enough of a ledge just for his toes. His heels hang dangerously off to the sea of mist. WIth a deep breath and half-baked determination, Travis looks to his destination. About 15 feet to the left, there is another window. 15 feet. That's not too long. He can do this. He has to do this. 

He takes one step, hand moving along the smooth slab of concrete. And immediately, his hand slides, his foot slips, he’s falling, his life flashes before his eyes, he panics, he may have screamed, he definitely squeezes his eyes shut and prays. When he peeks them open, he’s still on the ledge. Oh. Haha, his mind was just playing tricks on him then!

That’s a sure sign that he shouldn’t be doing this. He scrambles back into the safety of the room, body shivering probably more from the adrenaline than the cold. Probably an equal amount. Probably more from the cold. Their camp shirt isn’t meant for the winter and rain. 

“I tried,” he says out loud to himself, stretching and shaking his limbs. “Oh well. Can’t say I didn’t try. Guess I’ll just wait here.” 

“Waiting. That’s your plan? That’s disappointing.” 

Someone speaks behind him. 

He turns and jumps back, hands going to his wrist out of instinct. 

It’s a girl in bronze armor with a bright orange shirt underneath, spoiled in dirt and dried blood. Her gray eyes bore into him, hair in the usual high ponytail, the stray blonde strands framing a stern, highly disappointed face.

“I thought you got better,” Annabeth Chase says, ��I thought you were done with giving up.” 

Travis blinks and it’s — it’s weird, but this can’t be Annabeth. This person in front of him is like a whole head shorter than him. Last time he checked, he was taller than Annabeth by just 2 ½ inches. 

He can’t dwell on that, now when she’s charging towards him with a pair of knitting needles in each hand. Fast. She’s coming at him fast. One blink and she’s halfway there. Another and the needles are going for his neck. Travis panics and leans back to avoid the first swipe. 

He does not avoid the following kick to his stomach that sends him to his knees. It stuns him, makes him choke in pain. Annabeth shifts and he watches the needle, unnaturally sharpened to a point, come for the neck again. Move. You have to move. Move. Move. Move. 

He leans back again and grabs Annabeth’s wrist as it passes him and tries to shake it free from her. Immediately Annabeth twists her arm in some judo move that has him in a chokehold. It’s the way she moves her other arm that makes him think she’s going to snap his neck. Travis panics again and throws his head back, hard. Back of head smashing against a nose. Annabeth hisses and her grip loosen, Travis taking the opportunity to wiggle out and get some distance in this small room. 

He would have bolted out the door, because at least Bianca and Silena haven’t tried to kill him. But this scary, murderous Annnabeth is standing between him and the door. Did she positioned herself like that on purpose? 

Annabeth fixes her nose back into place without a flinch and rolls a shoulder before she’s coming to him again.

“Why aren’t you fighting back?” Annabeth demands, making another swipe that he ducks from and it’s then Travis notices the blemish on Annabeth’s neck. A bruise that covers the entire back of her neck, an ugly purple stain on her tanned skin.

“Why are you just running away?” Annabeth pressures, scowling, pointing a knitting needle at him. “Running won’t solve your problems. You know that.” 

Why isn’t he fighting back? Why is he just running away? What is he doing? Why can’t he talk? Why is he just standing here just staring? Oh. Because he’s scared. He’s stricken with fear. His mind is blank, numb. Nothing is processing except —

“Me?! Why are you—” it comes out too much like a shrill shriek and he clenches his fist, clears his throat, tries again and chokes on the first syllable at the sudden swipe of a needle and attempted chokehold. He dodges it and scrambles to the other side of the room. As far away as he can from her and tries again, calmer this time, just slightly less shrill-y. “Why are you doing this? A-aren’t we friends?”

“We are friends.” Annabeth cracks her neck, gray eyes abnormally bright in the dim room. They shine with killing intent, a cold cruelty he never saw before in her. “That’s why part of the contest has a pain grading. Don’t worry. I will end you as painlessly as possible, as quickly as I can. I’ll show him I can do it better than he ever can. Put up a fight though. I don’t want this to be an easy win.”

[immamapletreekid]

i need an entire movie or even better an entire season of just the fukurodani vs mujinazaka match