#i should really start writing for her

[prentissluvr]

who wants to mourn the horrid degradation of charlie’s character in season ten with me

[silksongeveryday]

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 205

Almost completely forgot to post this! This was the other art piece I was thinking of using for day 200. But since I put a lot of time into both I might as well show both, right? :)

(still glad I chose the other one though)

[lucyshypemaster]

you will NEVER see anyone writing paragraphs after paragraphs hating on keefe like they do with sophie.

[autisticrosewilson]

Talia even being called an assassin gives me the ick because when she was first introduced she hated killing, felt immense guilt the few times she had to, and most of the time if it looked like she killed someone it turned out to be anaesthesia or a tranquilizer or something. Like she was literally studying to be a doctor when her and Bruce met and she was based off of the stereotypical Bond Girl because it was the 70's. Like I know it's basically her entire character now that she's an "assassin mom" or whatever but that was not who she was intended to be and I hate how it's done most of the time because it's ALWAYS a way to point and say "look at the evil brown woman! She's a cold blooded killer who forced/passively allowed her son to kill as well! It's a good thing that the feral brown boy is now with his good white family so he can learn the value of life and art and how to exist in civil society!" And it's actually really pissing me off. You guys don't even read a characters introduction comic before you start writing the same regurgitated nonsense steeped in racism and misogyny. Damian's whole character as it stands is basically character assassination for Talia and in order for me to be able to engage with him he'd have to be entirely rewritten.

[unordinary-diary]

Seraphina and Arlo: The Brainwashing of High Tiers

Exposition:

— Remi, Episode 50.

There is a heavy implication that Seraphina and Arlo were raised in much the same way. The pressure on Seraphina comes from her parents, so I’ll extrapolate that the same goes for Arlo. This raises the question: how do the authorities create such a strong societal pressure on such a small percentage of the population? Most high tiers will probably not know any other high tiers besides their parents. Take Wellston Private High School for example: it’s the most prestigious private school around, and canonically has the “highest concentration of high tiers in the region”. There are six high tiers in Wellston. Apply this to god tiers specifically, and there are only three. Not to mention that this current group of students is uniquely strong, even for Wellston. In Rei’s senior year, he was the strongest at 5.8 max.

So much of this brainwashing relies on the parents to do all of the work, and it only takes one or two people to break the cycle. So how are the authorities creating this immense pressure? One tactic could be by isolating high tiers. There is a very widespread concept that one shouldn’t associate with those outside their level range. A caste system like this that affects everyone is much easier to create and maintain than an expectation for a small group, and it also means that high tiers are only being influenced by those who are also high level. This creates an echo chamber. I’ve researched cults and how they brainwash victims, and the first step in the process is isolating them in exactly this way.

But, if there are so few high tiers, how the hell are they supposed be isolated from other groups? The answer is that high tiers are just isolated in general. Take a look at Arlo: his only friend is Remi, and even her, he keeps at an arm’s length. Arlo is only close with Remi in the first place because he was close with Rei, who, at the time of meeting Arlo, was presumably close in level with him. [EDIT: I forgot about Holden, which I think says a lot about his relevance. He is kept at more than an arm’s length and doesn’t seem to have any actual influence on Arlo, let alone a deep relationship. He is also not presented as an equal.] Take a look at Seraphina: before meeting John, she didn’t seem to have any friends other than possibly Arlo. Seraphina and Arlo pre-John seemed to have had more of a professional relationship, and while they were not close in level, Arlo did fit the bill of being a fellow god tier, and strong enough to also be brainwashed.

Now let’s look at Remi. In episode 60, Cecile says to Remi: “And yet here you are... Always hanging around those two monkeys, Blyke and Isen. Letting them treat you as an equal even though you’re in a completely different league.” This struck me as odd because, aside from Cecile herself, the Wellston students closest in level to Remi were Arlo, Blyke, and Isen. And who is she friends with? She actually was doing a pretty good job at following that social convention, unless Cecile wanted to be friends with Remi, which she clearly didn’t. But... her friends were still not close enough to her level. Was she supposed to just not have friends at all? The answer seems to be a resounding yes. Can you think of any genuine friends that Cecile has either?

Friendship simply isn’t considered a necessity for high tiers.

But... why is it that Arlo and Seraphina were brainwashed differently? Creating a societal norm for an isolated group of people is one thing, because those people’s mindsets feed into each other. Putting pressure on individual families to keep them in line, but doing it all in different ways? That would be near impossible. My theory is that Seraphina recieved the typical high tier brainwashing, and that Arlo was raised differently because he was being groomed to work for the authorities. Seraphina didn’t have a set career path planned out for her, but if she’s trying to be “perfect” by the standards of those controlling her, she’s bound to end up going in a direction that pleases them. Arlo on the other hand was specifically planned to become an authority figure. That’s why his brainwashing is so centered on leadership. Also, growing up with direct contact to the authorities makes it more possible for them to customize his brainwashing in this way.

But does all of this apply to high tiers in general, or is it specific to god tiers? Let’s take a look at the high tiers in Wellston. We have Seraphina, John, Arlo, Terrence, Remi, Cecile, and Blyke. John is a unique circumstance because he wasn’t raised by high tiers, so we’ll cross him off the list. Terrence was also unique, so we can cross him off as well. Remi was different from the norm as well. Why is that? Well, Remi actually wasn’t raised by high tiers either. Rei said on screen that both of his parents were elites. We can cross Remi off. Blyke doesn’t fit the bill either, but that’s easy to explain. He was an elite for a large part of the story, and he shot up rather quickly. We don’t know much of his family, but he probably wasn’t expected to be a high tier at all, and was raised as an elite. (All of this also serves to emphasize how much of this brainwashing comes from a person’s parents.) That leaves only Seraphina, Arlo, and Cecile to look at.

Cecile does seem to have high tier brainwashing, but it’s not nearly as intense as with Seraphina and Arlo. She doesn’t seem “obsessive”, and she wasn’t one of the examples Remi mentioned in chapter 50. It’s clear that high tiers are brainwashed in general, but god tiers are kept on a much shorter leash. This makes sense, obviously, because keeping a population in control like that is less necessary the lower the level. However, it’s also a chicken an egg situation: god tiers are both more important to keep in control, and also easier to keep in control. It’s important to note just how many exceptions we had to cross off. People like Remi and Blyke aren’t actually that unusual— a lower leveled high tier is much more likely to have non-high tier parents, or to have not always been a high tier themselves, or just in general, to have way more day-to-day interaction with non-high tiers. The brainwashing gets more and more diffused the lower down the ladder you go.

[orange-artblog]

joking around was fun but now I did a ~final of Esther‘s design xp

she‘s a supposed Aim (post dark cream) x Axel (errorink) kid made out of the magic of headcanons and inside jokes (/j)

Aim is by @zu-is-here / Axel is by @ari-cuno

anyway I went and had some more fun with her

alsoo this

[mewnoroma]

Hi quick question: what the fuck is going on with her roots

I like that she grows (??? | Eigong are those growing on their own or are you just implanting more because you're insane) more as time passes, but I'm also curious in what that other part on her head is. It's attached(?) to her stabilizer so I assume that she added that later (maybe when she attached the first root, assumedly the one coming out of the top of her head)...actually semi-related question, did she ever have rejections or shit from just implanting the roots on her head like this? Hrm...

[hussyknee]

FYI if you're watching MasterChef Australia, the Sri Lankan Australian contestant Savi is a friend of mine and kind of a stealth idol because everything I seem to be online (a ball-busting, bombastic, proudly brown, unapologetically fat, sexy decolonizer lady) she actually is irl. It's funny because she was a few grades below me and found me intimidating when we were in school and now I'm the one perpetually in awe of her. Do watch if you can and root for her! She's a delight!

[queen-lucy-the-valiant]

Each of the seven Narnia books has a moral message or theme at its foundation. Every major beat of the story is centered on and refers back to this theme, so if you take away or alter the theme, you alter the entire foundation of the story. Obviously these themes/messages align with Christian principles because this is Lewis we’re talking about. So, my interpretations of the themes are the following:

 Magician’s Nephew is about taking responsibilities for your actions, LWW is about being selfless but also about forgiveness, Horse and His Boy is about the golden rule, Prince Caspian is about belief without proof, Voyage is about conquering temptation/evil within yourself, and Silver Chair is about trusting in God’s plan even when it doesn’t make sense, and Last Battle is about hope and doing what you think is good even when it seems hopeless. 

Which I think is one of the reasons the Voyage movie falls flat when compared to the other two. One explanation is that it changes many things from the book, but Prince Caspian does that too. Both movies make drastic changes from their source material, but Prince Caspian doesn’t feel (at least to me) as drastically changed as Voyage, because Voyage’s changes go down to the very foundation of the book’s theme. Lewis is saying that there is ‘evil’ in everyone that we all have to repeatedly overcome while the movie is saying that evil is outside of us and that we can overcome it once and be done with it, which drastically changes the central theme of the story. Prince Caspian on the other hand adds a lot of the story but all of the changes stay true to the central theme of belief without proof (or they correct some of Lewis’ inconsistencies). You can change the details all you want for the most part, but the core theme of the story has to remain the same otherwise it’s just not the same story so it won’t feel the same.

So there’s this really big essay I want to write detailing all the changes and how they alter the theme or go along with the theme etc.

[wikiangela]

WIP tag game

tagged by @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @tizniz @shortsighted-owl @bucks-daddy-issues @aroeddiediaz

RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

god i have so many wips (most of which are on hold rn) and i keep adding more lmao - gonna list just the ones I wanna prioritize (I also have sooo many ideas but I'm tryin not to start them before i finish one of the bucktommy wips lol)

the alive shannon ifc

cheating fic

buddie death cast

bachelorette party

bucktommy smut (aka smutty sequel to 'i wanna breathe you in')

bucktommy barbecue

post 7-10 (bucktommy)

bucktommy leg pain

buck slowly moving in with tommy

there's a few more wips tbh, but they're on hold, and sooo many ideas I'd love to talk about but I'm trying not to start new wips lol

no pressure tags: @bidisasterevankinard @hoodie-buck @daffi-990 @loveyouanyway @theotherbuckley

@watchyourbuck @monsterrae1 @loserdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @your-catfish-friend

@jesuisici33 @kinard-buckley @evansboyfriend @bucked-it-up @eddiebabygirldiaz

[thatrandomlemononyourcounter1]

Every day I arise and think about how dirty they did April's character in TMNT 2012

[victorie552]

I don't know when exactly Nerdanel left Feanor, so I am choosing to believe that they 'divorced' when Feanor was banished from Tirion and Nerdanel refused to go with him and their sons to Formenos. But I also headcannon that things between them were bad long before that. As in, Amras and Amrod suffered from "Our Parents Should Divorce Already" situation.

[girlwiththegreenhat]

i am never going to recover from the death shroud radio play actually

[kyofsonder]

Brain in Daylight Hours: There is no mental or emotional space for writing. There are no new ideas, and no structure for old ideas.

Brain after Dark: Here's 38 new ideas, 3/4 of a structure, official permission to write, and -- oh. The only place to write in the dark is your phone? ... Never mind.

[miraclesnail]

kronus AU, title still pending

chapter 12, 13, 14, 15

First chapter, previous chapter

@oopsies-i-did-a-thing

12

Google, what do you do when your childhood friend is set on beheading you in some crazy, apparently well-known and well-loved contest to be the absolute best at killing him? 

Travis’s limbs shake with exertion and fear. He’s not scared. This isn’t scary. Just stay focused, stay one step ahead, don’t engage, don’t get close, run run run, and he’ll be fine. He’s going to be fine.

Annabeth glares at him and tries to stab him in the neck again with her knitting needles. Travis ducks and scrambles to the other side of the room. Annabeth lunges again and he dodges again, scrambling to the other end. 

She’s getting really frustrated, glaring even more now. A pissed off Annabeth is not someone he wants around. He should really just make a break for it, but Annabeth isn’t giving any wiggle room. A second of distraction is death. A second of turned back is a needle through the skull. A hesitation and he’s dead. But it's okay. He's not scared.  Not scared in the slightest. 

Annabeth attacks. He runs. Annabeth taunts. He remains tongue tied. Annabeth tries to end him. He's barely keeping himself alive. 

Travis doesn’t know how long the cycle went for. A few minutes. Hours maybe. Maybe just a couple seconds. But it’s interrupted by a knock on a door and Bianca’s voice, suspicious and wary. “Travis? You alright in there? I’m coming in, okay?”

Annabeth and him share a look. The hinges squeak. 

“W—Wait! Anna—”

He talks first. 

But Annabeth moves first, lunging for the door. And still he can’t do anything except watch as the door opens. The needle goes straight for Bianca. Travis is sure if he was in Bianca’s position, he would be dead. But the daughter of Hades steps back just in time, barely evading the needle with wide eyes and panic in her face. 

Without missing a beat, Annabeth grabs Bianca by the back of the head and slams her head against the door frame hard. Bianca slumps over*** unconscious, blood pooling beneath her head. 

Annabeth stands over Bianca’s down body with a blank expression. A finger curls and uncurls. An eye twitches. Her mouth fell open. But then it all snaps into cruel disdain and Annabeth rears her foot back for a kick.  

His body moves then. 

He tackles Annabeth and they both tumble over ungracefully. Annabeth picks herself up first and immediately tries to stomp his face in. Travis wishes he could say it was his well-developed and honed instincts from a decade of fighting that saved him but it was Silena ramming a pitchfork through Annabeth’s chest that did it. 

“Run!” Silena yells at him, digging and twisting the metal deeper into Annabeth’s sternum. She turns her head back to face him and Travis can see that Silena is terrified. She’s petrified. Eyes blown wide and pupils dilated. Her hands holding onto the pitchfork are shaking way too much. Voice high and quavering. Fake bravado if he has never seen it before. Even with all that, Silena orders, “Take Bianca and let’s get out of here!” 

He nods but his eyes are drawn back to Annabeth, unflinching and unbothered with the prongs sticking through her. Annabeth still has her knitting needles in her hand and it didn’t even register in his mind that she could fling it. It flies at him, right for his eye, and —

Dodge, his mind screams. You have to dodge. But Bianca is behind him. If he dodges, it’ll hit her. Block it then. He has to block it. Move. Go. Don’t die. Fight. Win. Survive. You have to survive. 

But Silena takes the hit for him, shifting enough so it stabs her in the thigh. The force of it unbalances her and Annabeth grabs the pitchfork by its handle and rips it away from Silena. 

Travis watches Annabeth yanks the tool out of her, punctures sealing shut in seconds. Like with what happened to Lou Ellen’s eye. Not a single injury save for the bruise on the neck. Then Annabeth twirls the rusty pitchfork smoothly with a single hand before tossing it aside, rolls her neck again, and charges. ****

It’s personal experience that’s telling him Silena won’t, can’t react in time. A racing mind. An adrenaline riddled body. The knowledge of knowing what to do. The technique to do so. None of it matters when someone is chained down by doubts and hesitancy. But Silena is still standing in front of him, unbudging. If anything, bracing herself even more. Stupidly brave and selfless like when she impersonated Clarisse to lead her cabin into Manhattan, when she attacked the drakon knowing she’s no match for it. 

Annabeth comes at her needle raised and aimed at the neck. Silena hesitates and moves a second too late, realizing it too.

Travis sprints forward. Grabs Annabeth by the wrist, halting the blade just inches from Silena. His hand shakes with the effort. His body trembles with not at all concealed fear. He’s sure his face gives it all away, mouth twitching into an involuntary smile. His voice is a wavering mess, but he says it still and he says it loud.

“Don’t hurt her.” 

He hears his phone vibrating somewhere in the midst of the neverending room decorating and shadow travel. 

Someone is calling him. 

The rule is to text first. Calls are only for emergencies. 

As soon as Nico takes him to Annabeth, he kicks Perseus in the chest and creates a barrier to separate Perseus from them. There’s twins yells of concern but he ignores both Annabeth and Nico in favor of hitting the green accept call on the vibrating phone in Annabeth’s hands. 

Silena’s screams for help come clear through. And his own voice, chattering about … apples? Something absurdly mundane. He can hear the sound of struggle. The screen shakes wildly. He can’t make anything out. Then Annabeth’s voice, the Annabeth he knows, the Annabeth he’s familiar with (dangerous, cruel eyes, persistent), and ah. This is bad. This is dangerous. And he’s not there to protect them. He’s useless over here. Powerless. Useless. Helpless. A failure. A loser. 

[Fullscreen]

“Full screen, Silena,” he orders. A wave of dizziness overcomes him but he clings to consciousness stubbornly. He hopes he doesn’t mind. He grabs the phone from Annabeth’s lax fingers and places it flat on the ground. It’s unfortunate he has an audience. He would have preferred minimal distractions. But if he had to have anybody, then at least it’s just these two. They’re smart enough to not try anything. At least, he hopes.

The phone flashes black before it blinks back into focus, the screen white. The light extends outwards and pixel by pixel, Silena’s environment comes into view as holographic images. *****

They’re in their sleeping room. Bianca is down — dead, she’s dead. She’s gone. She’s gone. Dead. Gone. No no no [She’s alive. I can see her breathing.] 

Silena, clutching the phone in shaky hands close to her chest. She’s yelling, teary-eyed, watch out Travis behind you duck oh my god Travis Travis Travis — 

And him. Himself. In the orange shirt. Barely holding Annabeth at bay with quick dodges and ducks and evading that’s only millimeters away from certain death. Except he’s doing nothing but just avoiding attacks and Annabeth is fiercely aggressive, fiercely calculative in her strikes. A single step back, a single sweep of the leg, and Travis falls back on his butt and Annabeth is above him with her needle raised.

Immediately he dives in between them and holds his arms out, power itching in his fingertips but he holds it back for now. It stops Annabeth right away, her sharp eyes darting between him and the one behind him now scrambling to get back on his feet. Then to Annabeth, silent and unreadable, further behind him. To Nico. Then back to him. He can see her gears ticking and whirling. 

“There’s two — two of you. And another me. I’m…fine. A parallel world? Time travel? Doppelganger? A long lost brother?” His Annabeth clutches a hand over her wrist. Her eye twitches once. She’s fighting. She’s fighting for them. Now’s their chance. 

He lowers his arms and puts it behind his back but doesn’t budge from his spot. A glance at Silena and she understands right away, slowly inching her way behind him to his other self. 

“Yeah.” He nods. He has to buy time, as much as he can. “That’s right. It’s weird, isn’t it? It’s impossible, right? You would like to know more, don’t you? You’re dying to know more, right?”

xxxxxx

Travis is so so so lost. After saving Silena, he figured that both of them can fight Annabeth off together. But  Silena more or less tells him to hold Annabeth off while she calls someone. Which… well, not to be a downer, but that sounds like a shit plan. He can’t even beat Annabeth on her off days. On a good day? He has no chance. But he does as Silena asks while she fiddles with her phone. 

Then the room fizzles with a bright white light for a second. And now there’s another Annabeth but this one is in a familiar orange shirt. Also this Annabeth is a lot nicer, not trying to stab his eyes out really helps with that. There’s Nico too and that knife-wielding, motorcycle-helmet Connor from earlier is here too. No. The guy said he’s not Connor. His look-alike then. His look-alike is throwing him signals with his hand behind his back in some secret code. 

Sign language, his brain tells him after a few more signs. 

Get Bianca and leave. 

Get Bianca and leave. 

Over and over. 

Silena is inching her way to him, slowly, foot sliding and then the other foot sliding, shaking like a leaf and eyes locked onto other-him and other-Annabeth. Silena glances at him for a moment, signaling for him to stand. 

He does with wobbly knees. His shoe squeaks against the tile on his way up and Annabeth, the crazy one, the deranged one, the dead one, immediately goes to attack him. 

He doesn’t panic. He didn’t even cry or squeal. He just freezes up and stares as Annabeth sidesteps other-him with her needle raise and a killer look in her eyes. 

“No!” other-him yells, darting to be back right in front of him again. “You can’t! This guy isn’t me. We’re not the same. Do you really want to win the contest this way? Against a guy who doesn’t even know what’s going on? Will you really be satisfied with a win like that? No, right? Besides, he’s not me so is that really a win?”

xxxxxx

Not good. Not good. Not good. Not good. 

“Annabeth,” he tries again, “Winning like this will just make you angry.”

“So what?” Annabeth says, her eyes twitch again. She scowls, sneers, grimaces, winces, flinches, eyes glazing over before coming back into focus. Her free hand clutches her wrist again and forces her weapon down. “Am I supposed to let you guys go? I won’t hear the end of it if — Ah. H—Hurry up. Get the fuck out —I do that.”

“Wait for me to come back,” he says to her, signing behind his back. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. “I’ll be back soon and then we can fight together all we want.” 

Annabeth squeezes her eyes shut. She whispers something. An apology. A plea. Then like a switch of a light, Annabeth straightens herself. Cracks her neck. Her gray eyes are devoid of any and all emotions except for fierce fire and unyielding focus. ****

Crap.

“Go now!” he yells, heart in his throat, helpless as he can only watch Annabeth charge past him, phasing through his holographic body. 

Silena, stupid brave selfless idiotic Silena, intercepts Annabeth, standing in front of other-him. Silena yells, maybe as a way to psyche herself up, but it doesn’t help her look less terrified at all. *** And he hates that. 

Don’t look so petrified. Don’t do it if you don’t want to. Don’t be a hero. You should have just ran. Why did you run? Why are you doing this?

“Annabeth! Stop!” he yells, but it doesn’t deter his dead friend in the slightest. Annabeth charges and he can only watch as Silena blocks the first swipe of the needle. Silena blocks the following roundhouse kick with her forearm but it leaves her reeling and unbalanced. She’s wide open for the third attack. Silena isn’t as fast as him. She’s not as battle experienced as he is. Silena isn’t going to block the third attack. Silena is going to be cut open. Silena is going to die. 

The power in his hand releases, but it does nothing but batters the wall weakly with gentle gusts 

“Silena! You have to get it together!” 

But Silena can’t. Not in time, at least. And he’s stuck in an entirely different plane. Can only watch just like back then. Do something. He has to do something. 

[There has to be something]***

Something. 

Anything. 

Don’t just stand there.

Do something. 

Please. 

Please… 

Don’t take another person from him. 

xxxxx

He’s tired of fighting. He’s tired of people dying. He’s tired of losing friends. Michael and Silena. Beckendorf and Castor. He has enough of it.

It’s adrenaline pushing him forward, to tackle Annabeth by the waist and bring her down. They tumble and roll over each other. Travis learned from his mistake. He hooks his leg around Annabeth and angles it to prevent her from getting up. He has a hand on her wrist with the weapon. Other hand on the other wrist. They twist and roll and scramble all over, bumping into walls and shoving each other into the ground. 

Annabeth fights to get free and he fights harder to stay in place. 

Beyond that? He doesn’t have a plan. Maybe that’s why he’s losing this tumble. 

Annabeth flips him over onto his back and presses him down with a knee on his stomach.

She’s raising the needle. 

Silena screams. Nico, Annabeth, Connor — no other-him — somebody, everybody is telling him to get up.

Then Annabeth rams the needle down.***

Blood splatters against his face. 

Travis grits his teeth against the pain, bites his tears back with his cheeks, and thanks the gods for his incredible speed. A few seconds slower and he would probably be eyeless or something. Blood trails from his impaled forearm and drips onto his cheeks steadily. People are still screaming at him, but there’s blood roaring in his ears. All he can focus on right now is Annabeth tightening her hold on her needle, her other hand gripping his hurt arm. 

She’s going to yank it out, his mind calmly informs him. 

It hurts. It hurts so much to do so, but he holds her hands away with his good hand and wrenches his hurt arm away. He tries to roll Annabeth off him. But she holds fast and wraps her hands around his neck instead. Then she squeezes. Hard. 

Travis wheezes and claws and beats at the hands on his neck but Annabeth clutches tighter, digs her fingers into his trachea. 

She’s scowling. Annabeth’s scowling, pained and tormented, like she’s doing something unpleasant but the pressure increases. His vision goes hazy. Other-him is screaming at him, at Annabeth. And he sees Silena trying to shove Annabeth off him. But strength is leaving his body with every passing second. Is this how he’s going to die? Is this how it’ll end? After all he has been though? No… no… He doesn’t want to die. He wants to live. Desperately. With Connor and Chris. Katie and Miranda. Annabeth and Percy. Will and Nico. Cecil. Alice. Julia. Holly. Laurel. Lou Ellen. Clovis. This can’t be how it ends. He can’t die like this. *****

His vision narrows down to Annabeth and her scowl, the peripheral nothing more than a blurry shadow. 

But his eyes are drawn to Bianca popping up from behind Annabeth in a flash, a shovel raised and poised, half her face covered in blood. Bianca swings, hits the edge against Annabeth’s nape. The pressure is immediately gone as Annabeth crumbles on top of him. And Travis scoots himself away and sucks in air, coughing and rubbing his sore neck. 

“Tha-thanks,” he says, voice raspy. 

But Bianca just raises the shovel again, metal pointed down, and slams it against Annabeth again. And again. And again. The metal reverberates against tissue and bone horrifyingly loud, echoing off the walls. Skin and flesh slice open. Bones crunch and shatter. But Annabeth doesn’t bleed. Zombies don’t bleed, he guesses. But pieces of flesh and gore fly with every hit.

Travis doesn’t like the anguished look on the daughter of Hades' desperate face. 

“Bi…anca?” 

Oh hey. Nico’s here too, right. He forgot about him. Travis really doesn't like the look on either of their faces right now. 

“H—He—” He coughs and tries to intervene, “That’s enough.” 

But Bianca raises the shovel again and brings it down with an enraged scream. The swings grow wild and uncoordinated. 

Silena kneels beside him with a bottle of water, tears in her eyes, trembling body pressed to his, eyes darting around like they’re in danger, and stammers, “Bi-Bianca, enough. Annabeth’s down. You don’t have to—”

Another swing, a disgustingly loud crack. And a piece of what he’s sure is bone hits his cheek. 

“Bianca.” 

One word from other-him, voice’s heavy and a hint of regret, and Bianca pauses mid-swing. She’s heaving, wheezing almost. Muscles straining with yellowing bruised arms. Travis almost thinks Bianca is going to cry but she just whips around to them, almost losing her balance, with a wobbly smile and a shaky laugh. 

“Travis, I can’t believe I had to save you like that. Hahaha… that’s a first. Lots of firsts today actually.” 

Bianca stares at him for a moment, then her eyes move to Other-Him. Then to Nico, then to the nice, non-killing Annabeth and then back to him. 

“Oh.” Bianca giggles and slumps against the wall, sliding to the floor, her feet kicking against not-so-nice Annabeth’s mangled body that’s already reforming. 

They should probably get out of here. Soon. Like now. Right now. They should leave right now. 

“I’m dreaming. Of course. That’s what's going on,” Bianca mumbles.

“You guys need to get out of there,” Other-him says, a tinge of desperation in his otherwise calm if a bit anxious voice. “Reyna and him and the others — they’re never far behind from Annabeth. Bianca, can you walk?”

Bianca shakes her head and chuckles to herself, mumbling under her breath about how this dream sucks, how she wished she dreamt about camp instead. 

“I’m going with no,” Travis says to the other-him, who pinches his eyes and rubs his neck for a moment. When they reopen, they’re tinged with the beginning of panic and familiar, chaotic energy. 

“Okay. Okay. That’s okay. Can you carry her?” Then he spots the needle still stuck in his forearm and revises it to, “Or help support her weight? Or were you hit in the head too?”

“I’m fine! A-okay.” But he guesses he’s not as convincing as he thought he was because other-him still turns to Silena instead. He’s about to ask her the same until his eyes land on her thigh wound. 

“I can do it,” Silena says, flinching as she pulls the needle from her thigh. It bleeds profusely, a dark patch growing fast underneath her navy blue yoga pants. Silena pulls a rope from her belt, slaps a piece of rag over the wound, and ties over it. But it looks like it did nothing. 

“It’s just a flesh wound,” Silena reassures them, tucking the needle into a holster on her utility belt. She picks up two dirty travel backpacks off the ground and hands it to him. 

“I can carry her and you just hold the bags,” Travis offers in her stead. 

“No, no, you’re hurt. I can get—”

“Bianca?” Nico says, taking a hesitant step towards his dead sister, voice cracking in a way Travis never heard before, eyes desperate in a way Travis never seen before. “Are you… are you really Bian—”

“Later,” Other-him states, just as desperate. Like he knows what’s going on, like he understands. “You can ask later. But right now. Right now. Everybody needs to get moving.”

“But—”

“Later.”

“Neeks,” Bianca groans, attempting to pick her head up but it lolls to the side, and the whimper Nico made is something Travis could have lived without, “Travis said to do it. So let’s just do it. He knows best after all.” 

“…okay.” 

A whisper of a word. Barely audible. Nico steps back into the shadows without another peep. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth but now’s not the time to reconcile the siblings. 

As Travis hefts Bianca onto his back with Silena’s help, blood dripping and staining his already ruined Camp shirt, he tries hard not to laugh at what Bianca said. Him? He knows best? Really? No way they’re the same person then. He’s a complete mess without Connor. 

13 NICO **** flesh this out later

Bianca. Bianca. He’s sure that’s Bianca complete with the fond exasperated nickname. But she looks older. And her hair is shorter than he remembered. And she’s thinner now. A bit taller. More bones than muscles. And she doesn’t have any of that baby fat she had when she was still 12. 

But that’s definitely his sister. His sister with her warm and soft smile. 

Why? 

How? 

And Silena… Annabeth, the Annabeth that was trying to kill Travis. Two Annabeth … Two Travis… 

Nico watches the weird Travis, the stabby and violent one. He talks fast, directs the trio around, pointing at empty shadows and telling them there’s a zombie there and here. He speaks clearly, confidently, encouragingly as he guides them to hop over a six foot gap to go from one room to another. (His Travis pauses and double-taked and panics and complains before relenting. Silena makes the long jump no problem. His Travis takes a running leap, jumps, barely clears the gap, and slips onto his back.) And again, down a ten foot caved-in floor (Travis complains even louder for that one before he gives in.) ****** flesh out or delete

Bianca had called this weirdo Travis too, but Nico disagreed. The guy is far too capable and competent to be the same person. 

They made it to a room, their designated ‘safe’ zone though to Nico’s eyes it looks just like everything else. Dirty. Broken down. Ramshackled. A wall is even knocked out. Rain is pouring in. Half the room is unusable. 

But Silena rushes them in and shuts the door, collapsing against it with a sigh of relief as the tension melts from her body. 

“We survived,” Silena says, half a laugh, half a cry as Travis lowers Bianca to the floor. “We—we survived!” 

Travis beams. “Yeah, we did! High five!” 

“Shh. Not so loud. Starting treating the injuries,” Weird-Travis commands, bending to be eye level with Bianca with a grimace. “I think you need stitches this time, Bianca. Silena, if you don’t mind, could you do it?”

It’s not hard to understand when watching Weird-Travis flits across the room, hunching over Silena’s and Bianca’s wounds and offering advice. The way he’s brimming with worry. The way his hands fidget with each other. The way he talks and looks at them with this certain softness that he only ever seen him use for Connor. 

He cares. He cares a lot for Silena and Bianca. 

And as Nico watches the parallel version turn his attention to their own Travis, he could see the same worry in his eyes, could hear it in his voice, could see it in his movements. 

Travis isn’t dangerous, Silena had told them. And Nico believes her now. If anything Travis just looks lost and scared.  

14

“Silena, are you sure you don’t need stitches too? Annabeth may keep her needles clean but they’re not exactly sterile. Wait, Bianca, don’t get up by yourself. Do you need to throw up? No? How are you feeling then? Bianca? Bianca? … Do you think she’s concussed, guys?”

With the danger now gone and his mind could actually catch up and observe, Travis is noticing some really strange things. Like how Silena is holding a bracelet with Kronos’s trademark scythe on it as she carefully stitches Bianca’s wound close with supplies from a really bare medical box. Like how Bianca has a hair piece also with the symbol as she sits there quietly and motionless, staring intensely at Annabeth. How Nico looks extra pale and extra traumatized than usual standing far in the corner. How Annabeth can’t take her eyes off him with that same unnerving, calculating look as the one that just tried to kill him. How other-him isn’t as tall as he is. He’s actually a couple inches shorter than him, like how Connor is. How other-him talks sure and confident and … and… 

Travis cocks his head to the side as he listens. He doesn’t really pay attention to how he talks normally, the words just come spilling out without much thought actually. But … but … the way other-him is talking… 

Travis frowns. For some reason, it doesn’t sound like him. And when other-him turns his eyes to him, the off feeling intensifies. Instincts tell him that’s not him. Experience tells him something is wrong. A hunch tells him to not believe.

“We can’t leave that in there,” other-him says. 

“Huh?”

Other him points and Travis looks down and remembers that mean—Annabeth did jam one of her needles in his arm. And now that he’s aware of it again, the dull pain comes back. 

“Oh. Yeah. That. Uh, can I remove it when I get back home?” He hates how whiny he sounds. “Just pull out another one of those clover things like you did earlier.”

But Other-him shakes his head, grimacing for just a moment before he hides the pain. “I’m out. They disintegrated otherwise I would have hopped back to save you myself. Silena, Bianca, do you guys still have yours?”

Silena jumps at her name, nearly sticking the needle into Bianca. She cuts the thread and lays the needle down on a bloody gauze, fidgeting with the fraying end. “The clover? Oh. Um.” Silena reddens and looks away. “I... was hungry so… I ate it. I’m sorry.”

Bianca snaps her eyes away from Annabeth, brows creasing. “I don’t remember what happened to me. I probably gave it as a prize to Holly and Laurel.”

His heart clenches and he does his best to remain calm. But his voice may have given him away. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, d-does that mean I’m stuck here?!” 

Other-him starts to shake his head again but thought better of it. “No. There’s more. We can get it tomorrow. But one thing at a time. Your arm—”

“Tomorrow? Why not now? I don’t want to make it sound like I hate it here, but I hate it here.”

“The sun is setting. It will get dark really fast. Less visibility. Zombies. Not a good combo. So let’s take care of your—”

Travis is getting desperate. “Ambrosia? Nectar? Some kind of numbing agent or something?”

Other-Travis grimaces. “We’re out. We’re also out of working hospitals too so getting an infection is potentially life-ending.”

Travis stares at him hard for a moment, searching for a fib, but he stares back without a blink, unreadable and unflinching. Annabeth’s no help, shaking her head. Nico isn't any help either, too busy staring at Bianca who’s too busy staring at Annabeth who’s too busy staring at him. Thanks guys. Thanks so much. 

“Alright.” Travis looks away, chewing at his cheek. “Okay. Let’s do this then. I just need a moment to —”

The second Travis gives his permission, Silena leaps forward and yanks the needle out, clamping the gauze down in her ready hand with an iron grip. And holy fuck. It stings and burns and fuck. Tears well up but he refuses to let it spill over. He replaces Silena’s hand with his own, pushing harder, fingers digging into the uninjured part.

Far away, he can feel Silena rubbing his back, Bianca telling him to breathe through the pain, Nico reminding him the pain will fade soon, Annabeth asking if there for sure isn’t any ambrosia and really? None? Nothing at all? You guys have nothing? 

The excruciating pain is in the forefront of his mind, encompassing and overwhelming. But distantly, he can hear another voice. Calmer, steady, familiar, blunt but in a comforting way. Grounding in a way that the others aren’t. 

“Do you remember when you were seven and you just came to camp? You couldn’t sleep because everything was so different. A warm bed rather than a dirty alleyway. Crickets rather than engines. Near darkness, no headlights in sight. It was scary, wasn’t it? It was new and different and scary so you couldn’t sleep even though you trusted Chiron and Luke and Annabeth. C…Connor was asleep, finally sleeping soundly after so many restless nights, so you got up for a walk alone. Stupidly you went into the forest. Do you remember being lost for hours? Wandering around under the moon, underneath the tree’s shadows, even more scared than before because there’s no one there with you, tripping over the branches and then face planting into a tree, breaking your nose. 

You almost cried from the pain, right? But you didn’t. You screamed and stomped your feet and rolled around in agony. But you picked yourself back up and got yourself out of the forest and into the infirmary. You ate an ambrosia square and then slunk back in the cabin just in time before everybody woke up, pretending you never went out. Annabeth kicked your ass during training and got really mad because she thought you threw on purpose. Luke almost had an aneurysm when you fell asleep on the climbing wall and lost your grip. This pain is just like that. It will pass. You can’t scream so just roll around. It will make you feel better.” 

“What! H-How do you know any of that?” Travis squeaks out, face flushing in embarrassment. The pain now a dull ache if he doesn’t think too much about it. “I never told anyone! Did you have Clovis look through my memories? When was this? Clovis would never do this to me. You’re lying. None of that ever happened to me. Nuh-uh. Nah-dah. No.”

“It’s because I’m you,” other-him says, emotionless and straight faced and scarred and serious and. No. Liar. This guy is lying, his guts sing to him. He’s being lied to. “And you’re me.”

He doesn’t want to ask. 

He wants to know. 

He doesn't want to be right. 

He has to confirm. 

It’s fine to pretend things are okay.

Nothing’s okay. 

Not everything needs to be said. 

But this isn’t something he can just ignore. Not with Silena’s varelet. Not with Bianca’s hairpiece. 

He blurts it out without coming to a decision. 

“What makes us different then?”

Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Lie. Make something up. Anything but the truth. 

Other him squeezes his eyes shut and breathes in. “The summer when I turned thirteen, Luke asked me to be his spy.” 

“And you rejected and stayed loyal to the gods and your friends because there is nothing more important than your family — both immediate and extended?” he says, hopeful. 

”No.” he looks away, shame and pain and hurt obvious on his face no matter how much he tries to hide it. “No. I didn’t. When Luke asked, I accepted.”

xxxx

“Oh.” 

Is all Travis says. 

They stare at each other for a few seconds. Travis’s face tells him all he needs to know. [he’s melting down inside] The hurt. The betrayal. The fear.  

And though he knows it’s not Connor, they share the same face and he can never find it in himself to hurt his brother. He says quickly, hurriedly, “It doesn’t matter now since the titan still lost the war and almost all of his power. He can’t do much other than a couple cheap tricks.” His head pangs and he flinches at the sudden pain. [don’t taunt him] 

Bianca and Silena both rise to say something but he shoots them a look. Don’t. Not now, at least. Not in front of them. Silena backs down immediately but Bianca stares with defiance, nose flaring before she looks away too, arms crossing unhappily. At least she stopped staring at Annabeth.

Travis nods unsurely but his eyes go to the caved-in wall to the ruined cityscape. “If the Titans lost, then why is your world so… apocalyptic? What’s with the zombie? Why is everything dirty and broken? What’s with Silena and Bianca being alive again?” [What?] What? “What’s with this world Annabeth and Lou Ellen trying to kill me? And—and—and—” Travis starts wringing his hands and jumbling his words, eyes darting back and forth between the ground and him. “Where … where is this world Connor? Forget the other questions, just answer that one. Where is Connor?”

His throat tightens. Connor. He doesn’t want to talk about Connor. “I don’t want to talk about him,” he says without meaning to. [I can handle this if you want.]

“Why not?” Travis asks innocently. 

He squeezes his neck, ignoring Nico’s disapproval, ignoring Annabeth’s silent, piercing stares, “I just don’t want to.” 

“Why though?” Travis says, not backing down. “Did Connor do something here? Like, was he pissed that you betrayed camp for Luke? Because I would be pissed and I think Connor has every right to be mad at you. Are you guys enemies? Is he with Michael right now?”

“I don’t want to talk about this. It’s not relevant anymore,” he bites out. Images fill his mind. Of the Empire State Building. Of a blood-stained blade. Of screams for help. He digs his nails in the neck and the images disappear. 

“I think that’s a good idea too,” Silena says, eyes flying between him and the others. “There’s probably other things more important right now.” 

“What’s more important than Connor?” Travis says simply, matter of factly, without a hint of joke in his voice, dead serious, with eyes that demands him to match it.

“Nothing is more important,” he finds himself saying. This throat tightens. His vision blurs. Jumping off the building sounds more and more appealing. [no. don’t think that.]

A phantom hand holds his and squeezes and takes over, voice firm and sad all at the same time. “But Connor is dead. He's nothing but a shell of himself, just like Annabeth. He’s gone forever. Nothing you do will ever bring him back.”

“… what?” Travis’s blank face stares at him, not understanding, and he gets it. He couldn’t believe it when Connor died. For the longest time, he thought he dreamt it or hallucinated or it was a Connor look-a-like and the real Connor is somewhere out there, injured but alive, and — [He’s not coming back]. 

**** His chest hurts, like a punch to the heart. “Yeah. I know. But…” 

Because even still… even still… 

His fists clench and he stands with conviction, black dots floating in his peripheral that he ignores. “Nothing is more important than Connor. I get that. But Connor is dead. Has been dead for two years. The only thing that matters now, the only thing, is making sure no one else dies anymore. Silena, Bianca, Nico, Katie, Miranda, Clarisse, Percy, Michael. You. Me. Not a single one of us.”

“The only thing,” he repeats like a scratched record, stuck and never moving on. 

xxxx

He’s not lying. He’s not lying this time. The entire time Other-Travis has been talking, his ‘they’re a big freaking liar’ senses have been blasting around in his gut. But when he said Connor is dead, it all shuts off. 

He’s not lying.

Connor is dead. 

Other-Travis is saying more stuff but it goes in one ear and out the other.

Connor is dead, this guy says. And all he could think about is how. When. Where. What happened? Is he like Annabeth and Lou Ellen in this world? Then where is dead-Connor now? Did someone killed him? Or was it an accident? What was he doing? How could he let it happen? What’s wrong with you? He’s your little brother. Why didn’t you protect him? What were you doing? How can you live with yourself? 

He wanted to say all of that, to shout, to blame but it’s the haunted look in his doppelgänger’s face that makes him bite his tongue. This guy isn’t Connor but their faces are the same and he can’t bear seeing his brother in pain. 

In what could not be a more awkward transition, he asks, “So, uh, New York. Kind of went through a major makeover, huh? I don’t think it looks too great though.” ******

Other-Him sags in relief, face grateful. 

And even though his throat burns with the questions, his heart soothes a bit and the weight crushing Travis ever since he got here lifts just a little. 

xxxx

He knew. He read his face and knew not to ask. Just like he knows all the questions running through other-him’s head because he thinks of it constantly himself. [you shouldn’t. It’s not your fault] 

And even though the wall he made goes falling down and Perseus Jackson hacks his way in with Riptide with Will and Leo and Piper not far behind, even though Bianca finally stops her insistence staring at Annabeth and starts pointing her shovel at Perseus and begins yelling and summoning skeletons, even though Annabeth and Nico tries to cool the situation down, even though Silena begs him to do something, even though he knows he should. He needs to do something. 

He can’t help but stares at Travis, not unhinged and deranged, more human than monster, and imagines his own brother in Travis’s place. That this weird, tiny flicker of warmth and safety he feels isn’t from his lookalike, but from his own brother.

He wonders, if he had died back then, just plunges the knife into his gut, he could have this moment of bliss with Connor instead. 

15 BIANCA

Annabeth is dead. Connor is dead. Dad forsaken her. Nico no longer speaks to her. Clarisse hates her. Katie despises her. Michael can’t look at her. Miranda is terminally ill, clinging barely onto life out of sheer stubbornness that’s running out. Jason’s life is ruined because of her. Percy is basically dead. Lou Ellen is dead. Chris is dead. Will. Kayla. Austin. Dead, dead, dead. All she has left that's still alive is Silena and Travis. 

They’re all she has in his cruel world she created. 

They’re all she has in this empty world she made. 

As soon as Percy bursts through the wall with Riptide in his hand and points it at Travis, fear makes Bianca raise her shovel at Percy. Without much thought from her, nearly a hundred skeletal warriors pop up from the ground. Not in her world surprisingly, but where Percy is. They refrain from sticking their spears and swords at the child of the sea at her discretion. Once he attacks, you guys are free to do so too, she asks of them. 

There’s a pull on her control. Nico, she guesses. Stronger than what she’s used to, a lot stronger actually to her surprise, but still not enough for Nico to take over. Not even a fraction of her attention and she’s in command again.

“Touch him and I’ll tear you to shreds,” Bianca growls, ignoring how her hands shake (from exhaustion, not fear. She’s not scared), how her head pangs and throbs (from Annabeth slamming her hand into the wall, not reluctance. She will attack if she has too), how she hasn’t cleaned her shovel yet. **** 

Bianca expected Percy to just ignore her like he always does. She didn’t expect Percy to glance at her and lower his weapon, his eyes becoming haunted, a look that’s all too familiar. 

“Bianca?” he whispers, like he's seeing a ghost and she wonders what their history is in that world. 

Behind Percy, three more people come tumbling in. Will. Piper. Leo. All alive too and it’s unfair. It’s so unfair. Just the mere sight of Leo and Piper sends Bianca’s vision red and hazy with anger. Why is everyone alive over there? Why can’t they have that? What’s so different? She refuses to believe Travis is the sole reason why things are different. There has to be something else. 

“Percy, wait. Things changed,” Annabeth says, getting in between them. Then Annabeth looks at her, no familiarity in her gray eyes, no warmth either. Only just the barest of recognition. “That means you too. Put away the skeletons.”

“Cap Riptide and I’ll consider it,” is all she says when more are bursting at her tongue. 

Annabeth. Bianca clenches her shovel tighter. Annabeth. Annabeth. Annabeth is alive. And she’s looking at her with this look like she’s a stranger. That hurts. That hurts more than Bianca thinks it should. 

“But Bianca. Bianca is,” Percy stutters, then his eyes drift to Silena and they widen further. “Silena too! Silena is—” his eyes go to Travis, the weird Travis, the normal Travis, the Travis that existed before she fucked his life up, that Travis. 

“Percy! Hey! You would not believe the day I had. It’s totally crazy. Also, never get Annabeth mad to the point of being homicidal because she is terrifying,” weird-Travis beams and Bianca forgot how bright Travis used to be. And how Travis used to be friendly with Percy. It’s… strange to consider when it shouldn’t be. It hurts to think about. Another part of Travis’s life that she ruined. 

“You… there’s… two of you,” Percy says dumbfounded, eyes going between both Travises. 

Connor comes barrelling in, okay and whole, and Bianca can’t remember to breathe.

“Connor!” a delighted voice chirps as one looks away. 

More people file in. Lou Ellen. Miranda. Sherman. More people peeking behind the wall. Clovis. Holly. Laurel. She recognizes each and everyone even without the cut throats and missing eyes and detached arms. The sight alone makes the hand choking her heart squeeze tighter and tighter. It’s cruel how unfair this all is. She wants to scream. She wants to cry. Anything to make this pressure in her chest go away. 

But it’s the stares she gets from Will, from Leo and Piper, from everybody over there, the confused glances between her and Nico. The contemplative looks on their collective faces. Their whispers. The pieces all come together. 

“Dude, that girl looks like Nico.”

“Is… Is she controlling those skeletons?”

“Who is she?”

“She doesn’t look familiar.”

“I don’t know her. Pssst, Percy, do you know her?” 

It all clicks together then. 

She’s dead there. 

She’s dead over there. So nobody knows who she is.

She’s dead over there. Everybody is still alive. 

She’s dead and Connor is alive, Travis is happy. 

She’s dead and there’s no zombies.

She’s dead and there’s no apocalypse. 

She’s dead and the world continues.

Piper was right. If she had died back then. If she just let herself be killed. If she just offed herself sooner. If she wasn’t so scared. If she wasn't so selfish. If she hadn’t believed Jason and Travis and Silena. If she hadn’t wanted to live. Then all of them, all of this would have—

“No.”

The word cuts through her hazy thoughts immediately and she turns to find Travis, no longer lost to his thoughts but staring at her.

“Oh. Hey. Welcome back,” she tries to be cheerful because showing anything but happiness will make Travis worry and she caused enough pain to last 12 lifetimes. It never worked though. Travis will forever worry. Travis just shakes his head and she sees desperation and the hurt that’s always in his eyes. 

“Bianca,” he says, desperation tinged in his voice. 

It's then she sees her warriors, weapons no longer pointed at Percy but at her. More are at her heels, right in front of her, pointed edges inches from her. Silena is shaking her shoulders and pleading with her. She hadn't even noticed. With a wave of her hand, the skeletons leave to go back underground.

“Whoops, my bad,” Bianca mutters, hunching and scratching the back of her head. Not that it soothed anything. Travis and Silena are still worried. As bad as it sounds, Bianca can ignore their reactions. It’s inevitable. Something she just got used to seeing day after day. Just a constant stream of disappointment from her. 

What she’s not used to seeing is Nico. In the corner of the room, far and hidden in the shadows, is her little baby brother Nico. Nico who’s staring at her like she’s not even his sister, like she’s a complete stranger, like she’s just committed a grave crime, like she’s a monster, like she’s inhuman even though they share the same blood. 

Nico stares at her with what could only be disgust and loathing just like that day when she fucked up the world.******edit later.

[kushanna]

this 👆🏻 has been driving me so crazy. i know maria says this all the time, but it's about the "we aren't beatrice" for me. if i'm supposed to believe her words, then i just!! seem to have come to a bit of a standstill!! if there's no more than these 17 people on the island, maria directly acknowledges none of the ones around her are beatrice, while insisting beatrice gave her the letter, then well!! unless she's been brainwashed in some sort of way, well!! "everyone was trying to make her believe" would maybe lead me to assume certain things but since "we aren't beatrice"!! i'm reaching my limit here!!