#chase app

[lilislegacy]

i’m just gonna come out and say it

if luke comes back in a future book, i hope percy is taller than him now.

[diedoffscreen]

if house md took place in 2025

cameron: the patient is dying, where is house?

chase: he's in his office playing balaurtror on his phaurne

[faytears]

cannot believe this has to be said but percy did not owe annabeth a confession or initiating a relationship with her after she kissed him in botl, it was not his fault that he landed in ogygia and calypso fell for him, and he did nothing wrong by hanging out with rachel (who is his FRIEND!!!!!) during the months after. he was not playing with annabeth's feelings, he was a kid with low self-esteem that was busy worrying about saving the world and potentially fucking dying in the process. genuinely what the hell is wrong with some of you

[blueberryexistence]

the titan's curse // the mark of athena

[lovingsilently]

Percy jackson tweets part 9!!! Angst edition!!

[introvertgoat]

my hand at neil being a menace on twt:

conclusion:

aaron escapes to who knows where, but most likely far far away from neil josten !

[chasedeys]

i'm singing straight up love songs

[lapdogchase]

after chase kills dibala. chase finds the file on the table and talks to foreman and they both figure out house did it. chase goes to talk to house and waits in his room playing with his ball. when chase asks "what now" house just says "i'm not the boss." chase asks if he thinks he should be fired and house is like. no we arent ever going to be in this situation again. (i think this granted him far more absolution than the priest could ever have, btw). and then chase stands up. walks over to him. and says so dead serious. "whether you want to be in charge or not. you are." looks him right in the eye. "and you always will be." throws him the ball, nods slightly, and leaves. Insane. like what even is there to say

[auspicioustidings]

Ok, please bear with me for a moment while I talk about moving to Ao3 for now.

The thing I liked about tumblr was the community part. I now cannot re-blog or comment on a lot of stuff publicly because I don’t want it to become an issue for people that they haven’t blocked me since a lot of people believe I am an explicit racist. I have just seen someone get attacked over re-blogging something of mine and then go on to block me which is absolutely fair because I imagine they got dragged for defending me and they are trying their best to listen to POC.

I feel like given that me engaging with others or them engaging with me on here is just going to wind up with someone getting dogpiled, it's probably best for me to stick to Ao3 so that's where I'll put my writing from now on.

I genuinely am really sorry if my fic hurt anyone. While I feel terrible that people sent shitty anons to people, that part is not my responsibility and I actively discouraged it. What I will say is I am sorry that I didn't try do more to stop it and I really hate that people got abuse, it was not ok.

Once again, none of this is an excuse to go into other peoples inboxes and be a dick. It is also not an excuse to go into POCs inboxes and try to get their opinion so you can use them as your moral compass instead of developing your own. If you have feelings about this just put them in my inbox and move on please.

Now this part is entirely my opinion and is going to be influenced by the fact that I got dogpiled and got incredibly sick with stress over it which I am very embarrassed about so may be me being hurt rather than being fair. There is a difference between trying to encourage active anti-racism and just being cruel when someone makes a genuine mistake and tries their best to fix it. A lot of people absolutely do the former and I appreciate them for that, but if you engage in the latter, I'd encourage you to try practice more empathy because otherwise that's exactly how you push people to the right. Is what you are doing actually an attempt to make things better or is it an attempt to make yourself feel better by hurting someone else? I'm not great at expressing this but I do like this tiktok and this tiktok as they both helped me sort of assess the way I treated people around me because I have absolutely engaged in that sort of thing before.

I also did want to put this resource here. It is a really eye opening look at the characteristics of white supremacy and how to overcome them which we should all be learning. Melanie Walby has some excellent art about this as well. I wanted to share this a while ago but was ironically falling into the 'fear of open conflict' characteristic as I thought it was likely to get me attacked for trying to look not racist rather than trying to share a resource I found useful.

If I'm coming off as a dick here then just ignore me, I'm a tiny fan writer for a specific corner of the war criminal video game fandom and it really is not that serious. If you are taking it super seriously, put that energy into your local community where you can actually enact change.

I do finally want to highlight that I re-kindled my love of writing and it was the people who were excited to read my stuff that did that, so thank you. I’m going to leave everything up and change my pinned to just be a masterlist so if you want to re-read anything you can. Be good to one another <3

[starryeyeddreamer21]

The fact that Vox could be Santa Claus and actively chooses not to is the reason I can't fuck with him on a fundamental level

[a13xaandra]

So when I first started reading the first Magnus Chase book, it was on audio. So I took notes in the notes app. It’s titled “Magnus is balling || book one.”

Here are some of my favorites

“BRO THIS DUDE IS PERCY 2.0

Why he homless😭🙏

WE BOUTTA ROB UNCLE RANDOPH

“I might’ve had a future that was not about worrying about my next meal” ….

These chapter titles are CRAZZYYY

“Is it my birthday??” SHDBXM

He’s kinda like hazel ngl

Bro he’s about to dieeee

“My mom told me to run. I did. She told me she’d find me. She never did” BROOOOO😭😭😭🙏🙏. 3 CHAPTERS IN HOLY SHIEEETT

“I’ve been taking care of myself pretty well.” NO YOU HAVE NOT

UNCLE RANDOLPH😻🤞🤞🔥🔥

“Look, I don’t understand 90% of what you’re saying” LMAOOO

“Natalie was my only sister. I loved her. I hated to loose her. I can’t loose you too.” OMGGGGV SHXBXBXJJ😭😭

“Seriously, this Dude Cannot Drive!” DNNDNC BROOOO💀💀

“You missed a pedestrian. You wanna go back and hit her?” I LOVE THIS MAN SO MUCH .,!$,&:8::$;$9”

I think I’m on the spectrum.

[glittter-vamp]

Them having a little living room in between them is hilarious 😂

[texanmarcusdavenport]

alright i'm gonna yap about my WYPB sequel (currently at 20k & counting!!!)

So this fic uses the concept of Marcus' commando app being "Mike", a Totally Normal Kid. Mike's "purpose" ig you could say is to be a sort of emotional/social protector, he's triggered out by Marcus' general social anxiety but the root of it is not feeling "human enough", so he takes over to give Marcus "time off" as well as to mediate social conflict. He can front for weeks or possibly months at a time.

it's tricky balancing Mike's personality in this fic, because hes nice and chill and laid-back but like in the way that that guy who hangs out w like the "popular kids" (super annoying disrespectful bullies) is, yk the one who's not as bad as them but still lets their behavior slide. If a situation is beyond saving (like if Marcus is being bullied very badly) he'll just chill until they move again. he's more confident than Marcus so bullying doesn't really bother him. At his core all he wants is to protect Marcus (that's his socially awkward little brother!), but it puts him in a weird position bc he has to make nice w all these ppl that are awful to Marcus.

it's also kinda funny bc the current situation in this fic is SO far out of Mike's comfort zone. He's used to fronting at like, particularly bad schools or when Douglas is being more snappy than usual, and now he fronts and suddenly Douglas is in jail and Marcus is dying.

[lettersfromchb]

Two weeks left for the interest check! Check it out to let us know where this project should go!

Interest check here!

Art Mod apps also open from Feb 15 to Feb 28: App form!

[harundraws]

✨🌸 Taivan Secret Prom - AU 🌙✨

a more zoomed in version below!

A finished commission for @thehellcaster 💕

[vomitspit2]

concept with dullahan! dire crowley OR dullahan! floyd leech, you can imagine either ⁽(◍˃̵͈̑ᴗ˂̵͈̑)⁽

now playing harley poe’s vengeance the demon / close the door / outcrowd

part i. vengeance the demon.

it always starts with you running. it has never once changed; you, desperate and panting, throw yourself across the earth on two lunging legs.

sometimes, you trip. sometimes, you crash into things. but you always keep running and running away from the sound of clomping hooves in pursuit. they echo in the mine ruins that you always find yourself in, sounding like an army of horses instead of the single one giving chase.

one time, you finally manage to reach the end of the mine shaft as you can see these polka dot patterns of light just ahead. you break out into a sprint.

the air is less humid when you burst out of the mines like a bullet passing through a body. you make a wild run for the houses lit by lanterns. pumpkins are on each porch. you end up stumbling into one, acquiring a new shoe, as you throw yourself against the door.

“please! he’ll kill me! he’ll kill me he’ll kill me!”

the only response you get is the window by the door opening just slightly. you almost miss the motion, so focused on pounding your fist against the wood. but through your eyes and the blood and the mud, you manage to spy it. two fingers opening up a crack in the blinds and one single eye peeking at you.

“please … please …” you sniffle, blood and snot a thick mélange running down your lips.

the eye stares at you. it looks like an immovable stone, something that has already made its decision. the light of the glowing pumpkin and lanterns pale in comparison to how bright the eye is.

“i can’t help you, yous folk is marked.”

ii. close the door

the girls and boys at your university hate you. your parents don’t hate you but they don’t like you either. you’re not even sure you like yourself.

the only person (and he’s not even a person) who loves you is your black cat, grim.

grim purrs at you which you take as validation as sweet as boyfriend saying he loves you or as validation as heartwarming as a best friend saying she’s grateful that two of you have become friends because no one gets her like you do. in him, you find validation that you have been missing since you were seven and that boy died at your birthday party.

it wasn’t your fault. your hands were only on the reins because the handler asked you, the birthday girl, if you wanted to hold and guide the horse. you must’ve fucked it up somehow because the horse reeled up, a black stallion of huge proportions looking like something carved into a monolith, before the stallion kicked back his legs and struck a boy in the head.

blood paints over the grass as the first adult came outside with the cake, the beginning of happy birthday on his tongue.

which is why some girls corner you in the bathroom, one wearing a party city horse mask and getting in your face. another kicks the stall, mimicking clop-clop noises with her mouth.

because the town hates you. everyone has always hated you.

it causes you little stress besides tears. what causes you the biggest stress is returning to your dorm, finding your window open yet not finding grim.

you search the streets like mad, shaking tuna treats in your hands.

eventually, you come across paw prints that have found their way into a water storm drain tunnel, those ones cities and towns install to minimize flooding risk. the paw prints are wet and small but you know deep down grim’s in there somewhere.

after some hesitation, you walk in.

it’s dark and humid. and you mean dark as in the only way to tell where walls are is to move your hands outward to check where they lie, you can barely make out shapes in this nebulous black. and you mean humid as your hair is starting to stick to the back of your neck and the place where your inner thighs touch are sweating with a passion.

but you have to find the only person who loves you.

you keep going till your foot catches on something. you don’t trip but you feel around with the sole of your foot, coming to conclusion you are stepping on none other than mine-tracks.

you have to go back. you have to go back! you think with a blinding panic.

but then you hear a meow, soft and faint. gradually, you calm down and call out for grim. please, grim come, you have been traveling too far down this rabbit-hole, both of you need to go home safe and sound.

but he doesn’t come, continuously meowing. a little farther, you can risk going that much for grim.

so you keep going, one of each shoe placed on the sides of the tracks, shaking your bag of tuna treats.

eventually, you come across light. not sparse light like polka dots but bright light that almost blinds you.

they’re celebrating something in a town just a two minute walk away. they are celebrating halloween.

the door on your old life is permanently shut.

iii. outcrowd

grim, you see him. just a bit down the way, he’s weaving through the crowd of people lined up on each side of a giant parade.

you pass by a man breathing fire, another on an elephant, one who is clipping roses from his skin and handing them out to children, another who is — your sight suddenly blurs when two forces hit you with surprising force.

“mama!!” they cry in unison. and two twins with your face but golden eyes gaze up at with love you have never been shown to before by human features.

“i told you two, not to run off during the parade; must i keep you on a leash,” a man with hair split black and white breaks through the crowd.

“oh well now i see why they ran so swiftly,” this mysterious man says as he addresses you. “welcome back, (name); i was worried you weren’t going to make it this year.”

“mama was gonna come this year! dad promised!” the twin on your right says, taking the easy opportunity to slip his hand into yours.

“dad never breaks his promise, uncle crewel! never!” the one on the left clings to your entire arm like a snake.

“i see,” the man tuts, giving you a mischievous wink. “come on then; he also promised to attain this parade,” mumbled under his breath, “if only he stays in the mood to attend this one and not chase his beloved wife around.”

the twins, with a surprising amount of strength, drag you along.

so, against your will, you watch this halloween parade pass by. finally apart of the crowd, loved and cared about by people. not part of that outcrowd that has kept you isolated.

it comes and goes until finally the star of the show arrives, a man cloaked in black, a pumpkin as a head, riding the black stallion from your childhood.

you try to pull away. the twins hold on tight. you watch in betrayal as grim walks up to the horse, only to be scooped lovingly in the arms of the rider, purring away.

that man is going to kill me, you think as he draws closer on that ebony stead of nightmares.

then, finally, he stops his horse in front of you and offers his hand up to you like a man offering up his entire heart, body, and soul. the twin on the right slots your numb hand into the rider’s easily. you are lifted onto the horse, sandwiched between the neck and a warm body, resisting the urge to cry like a baby.

“my wife,” the man behind you breathes amorous on your neck, removing the pumpkin from his face.

a single gold/two gold eyes greet you with such love you almost cry. “how lovely of you to finally join us.”

when he kisses you, you do cry.