#i know a lot of this was rewritten but

[holypowell]

this is simultaneously the best and worst thing i could’ve ever seen

[wonder-worker]

Thinking about Elizabeth Woodville as a gothic heroine is making me go insane. She entered the story by overturning existing social structures, provoking both ire and fascination. She married into a dynasty doomed to eat itself alive. She was repeatedly associated with the supernatural, both in terms of love and death. Her life was shaped entirely by uncanny repetitions - two marriages, two widowhoods, two depositions, two flights to sanctuary, two ultimate reclamations, all paralleling and ricocheting off each other. Her plight after 1483 exposed the true rot at the heart of the monarchy - the trappings of royalty pulled away to reveal nothing, a never-ending cycle of betrayal and war, the price of power being the (literal) blood of children. She lived past the end of her family name, she lived past the end of her myth. She ended her life in a deeply anomalous position, half-in and half-out of royal society. She was both a haunting tragedy and the ultimate survivor who was finally free.

[charlotte-family-apologist]

I am Desperate to hear more of your mk worldbuilding headcanons (also, your art is stunning)

Aaaa thank you 💕 Don’t worry I got you

Zaterrans are modern human’s missing ancestor.

Male Osh-Tekk are teal while females are brown. They also have feathers instead of hair with bird hands and feet.

Edenia has a huge veiling culture.

The Kollector was the one who brought Sento to Outworld, Shang Tsung purchased it from him.

Khao is made entirely of islands completely disconnected from each other (ex. desert island right next to a swamp island). On the other hand Seido is one large continent with little biodiversity.

Omegis is the baba yaga.

Cyromancers naturally have fast heartbeats because their heart is trying to compensate for how cold their bodies are.

Most folklore creatures come from races and animals from different realms accidentally crossing a rift.

There aren’t many coastal settlements in Outworld because the merging of realms always causes flooding.

[thingspeoplesayintoontown]

[magnusbae]

shaking at 5am, spent the past two days getting back into obikin, reading a 50k fic, drawing for 12 hours, talking to any soul that would listen— and now writing this snip of hurt/comfort— ObiKin 506w 😭😭😭

▾▾▾

Obi-Wan is used to Anakin asking for more than a Padawan should, more than a Jedi-Knight, more than a Jedi should, period.

There would be times Anakin pushes the boundaries between them, providing the most bizarre excuses for his inappropriate behaviour, excuses to which Obi-Wan has a hard time not replying with 'Really Anakin, this?' excuses Obi-Wan still accepts, accepts and pretends to understand. Excuses he needs to preserve his own integrity as a Jedi while still giving Anakin what he wants, what he needs.

Sometimes, Anakin says nothing.

Sometimes there's no clever excuses or witty jokes. Sometimes, Anakin is silent, sometimes, Anakin just takes what he wants, what he needs.

Obi-Wan always gives, never rejects Anakin when he truly needs it.

And tonight, weary from endless battles, with the blood of hundreds on his lightsaber, Anakin needs it.

So when Anakin crawls into Obi-Wan's bed, smelling of smoke and blood, unshowered and filthy- he says nothing.

Obi-Wan doesn't so much stir, allowing the boy-turned-man, wrap his strong arms around him, doesn't even flinch when Anakin squeezes so tight it's crossing the uncomfortable into the painful rather swiftly.

Obi-Wan allows it. Allows Anakin to bury his face in his nape, allows the ragged inhales, allows the seeking, desperate feeling of Anakin's force signature against his own— but when Anakin shakes with it, with the burden he carries, Obi-Wan cannot pretend to miss it.

"Oh, dear one" he says, voice quiet, saddened. He shifts, and Anakin freezes, his hold loosening immediately. Anakin couldn't have missed that he was awake, of course he didn't. He simply didn't expect Obi-Wan to acknowdlge what he was doing, didn't expect him to...

"Come here," Obi-Wan says, turning fully, facing Anakin in the darkness of the room, lifting an arm and creating a space for Anakin to get into. If he chooses to, that is.

Anakin doesn't even pretend to consider it. He launches forward like a starved thing, desperate for warmth and acceptance, needing it in ways that are being his ability to hide, to mask.

"Master—" the sound of his voice is torn, borderline inhuman. "Master..." he chokes, more quietly, more ragged.

Anakin's shoulders shake with it, and if Obi-Wan feels wetness at his neck, he would never speak of it to a living soul.

"I know" Obi-Wan whispers, wrapping his arm securely about his once-Padawan, pulling him flat against himself, his free hand at the back of his head. "I know." he repeats, soothing him, stroking at his hair with patience, with care.

"I'm here." He breathes out, eyes closed.

This war is rough on this one. Regardless of his natural talent and skill, despite his bravado and cockiness. It's rough on him.

On all of them.

"Sleep, Anakin." he murmurs once the shaking finally subsides "It's okay you sleep" he speaks on, knowing Anakin hardly pays attention to the words anymore, only the tone matters. "Sleep, dear one" he says into his hair, smelling the death in it and inhaling anyways.

Anakin sleeps, despite it all, he does.

[lemonynuggets]

do you guys wanna know about my ocs perhaps

[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.”

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

For anyone annoyed by the Tumblr changes, if you're on desktop I would recommend using XKit Rewritten (and New XKit for any other odd changes you'd like to try out, including even older aspects of Tumblr). It's the older version of Rewritten but most of the extensions on it are still supported/do work). I can't guarantee they'll definitely make a fix for it/a direct fix for this particular UI change, but it's possible that they might since they usually make extensions that allow you to essentially revert changes made to the UI. Other various UI extensions (such as old ones from Tumblr's past UIs that the extensions basically just revert you to) may also help fix up your UI.

As you might expect these extensions need to be on to work/revert the appearance of the UI (so if you turn them off you'll revert to the current state of Tumblr), but while they are on you can curate your UI to look how you want it. This goes for both New XKit and XKit Rewritten. I use both and I couldn't live without them lol. You can get some big oldies of Tumblr's, like classic search on Rewritten or the Tweaks extension (full of various UI tweaks) on New XKit (including the old shade of blue Tumblr used a long time ago that I never stopped using!).

Unfortunately I don't know of any solution for mobile if it affects mobile at any point (or if it already has), but whenever you're on desktop, I would definitely recommend both these versions of XKit. I have so many extensions from them that I often don't even realize when there are UI changes (remember how Tumblr added themes for your dashboard? I didn't even notice for the longest time because I've had New XKit on the whole time) because Tumblr's default coding is overwritten by the extensions I have on.

[sonknuxadow]

i dont know what would be worse if amy is never in the sonic movies at all or if they do introduce her in the next one but shes pushed to the side and doesnt get the amount of focus she should be getting considering shes a main character and this is her introductory movie because theres too much other stuff going on with shadow and/or they just completely butcher her character

[druckers]

heinrich and josephine are gonna be a year old in february... one whole year............

[courfee]

i want to start posting ritardando so badly but i feel like i need to write more first

[lunathewafflelord]

I was playing Toontown yesterday and someone in the Cartoonival grounds was constantly saying insults at this one dog (we reported him and I contacted a mod via Discord about a swear workaround he was using so that could be blocked)

This was one of the things he said and it should NOT be as funny to me as it is

(image text says "you look like you autism". My character is saying "bro")

is it bad that I find this funny.

I actually laughed when he said this

[voistly]

hii this is a bit of of a One Interest Andy question but i love hearing about peoples experiences with it, who were your favorite pentiment characters? plotpoints? investigations/conversations? just anything tbh i am down to hear your thoughts :^)

i wish i had a better answer to this but since i played the game over the course of several months + i have memory problems, there are parts that i can't exactly recall even though the impression of them has stayed with me...

i think overall a lot of my favourite parts were in act 3. i cried a lot. it felt like the part when tassing felt the most like its own character because magdalene gets to research its history and we get to see how each character/family has felt impacted by it. for that reason i would say my two favourite characters are tassing (predictable for me) and magdalene. i love andreas as well but as an outsider involved in current politics over its history, it was harder to envision tassing as a character and not just a setting...

i would like to replay it again and save some of the moments i like in my personal notes. i hope i'll be able to answer this again with more specificity at another time :]

[majorplayer]

this is one of the funniest short comment chains i've ever seen on the internet and it's about toontown

[taexual]

Omgggg you have no idea how invested I am in sleepwalking i literally check for updates 5 times a day ever since i started reading it.. rockstar jk is just chefs kiss 😘 love your fucking writing so much!!

my looooove thank you so much!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺 i am working on the next chapter right now and HOPING to post it next weekend!!!!! 🤍🤍🤍

[kangaracha]

wips list

nevermore (120k)

queenmaker (3 chapters)

lyre lyre (1/4 done)

FNF (dear fucking lord keeps i hate it here)

what the water brought/pirate au

boxer!minho? dlc? something

pretty ch 4

the gone and the gathered ch 3&4

valleys (66k)

torture fic x3

tgbyb ch 4

tsotl end part 1

darling don't wake up x4

goldmine goldmine (landmine) all of it

soul is yours to keep/zelda fic

draculas

heart rewrite

where the river bends

rabbithole/angel/the stars in your eyes

all that is good/holy