Idk Guys Can We All Report This Etsy Shop For Like, Actively Trying To Further Covid During A Global

lucky charms, chapter 4

The Twilight Zone

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

People came easily to Luke.

That was not to say people generally liked him, necessarily. Some would say he had his father’s charm and his mother’s once beautiful features, and that was why he’d always attracted a crowd, but Luke hadn’t been his parents’ son in a long while. He was every bit the thief his father was and, like his mother, could see far past what was presented, but everything he’d built for himself had been from the ground up.

Even by demigod standards, Luke was the son of one of the lamest gods in Olympus- he wasn’t great with his hands like Annabeth, and he definitely couldn’t control lightning the way Thalia could. All Luke had was people. He could tell, for the most part, what buttons to push to upset, to anger, to flatter, to confuse; that was Luke’s talent. He was a pickpocket, a sleight of hand artist, and like most cynical, petty crooks, nothing slipped past him.

Luke understood how people worked. Understood what the flutter of an eyelid or a trembling lip meant, understood just how much tension in the brow separated grief and aggression. Above all, Luke understood that people were always exactly as they were not- playing a game of charades against the rest of the world as though that might protect them, in some way, from her jagged edges.

He’d always been too clever for his own good.

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These women must not get away with it. Here’s the link to the article.

Spread it like wildfire!

Can you recommend some really angsty (like a slow burn kinda) percabeth fics?? like the ones with two way pining and it's just so cute and fluffy and KBDLWKDBWLJVAVLJAEV???? Thanks!! ♥

actually you know what?? i don’t think i can… all of the percabeth i can think of right now has them as an established couple orrr they get together pretty early on. huh.

can anyone reblog this with some slow burn percabeth recs??

do yall ever just….. remember TLO and weep

I couldn’t find any gritty Valentine’s so I made my own

ronda slater, what I need is: a contemplation of bisexuality, from bi any other name: bisexual people speak out, edited by Lorraine Hutchins and Lani Kaahumanu, 1991

stop watching anything with gal gadot in it — that ESPECIALLY includes marvel. they’re not even good anyway lmao. military-sponsored propaganda.

“not watching something” is genuinely the bare minimum. it’s the simplest boycott that could be asked of you.

47. “I’ve been in love with you for years.” 🥺

Percy Jackson is a coward. 

Freezeframe, record scratch, backtrack to the beginnings of the bad decisions. 

It all went south when Grover threw up. Drunk out of their minds and poor from a long night of bar hopping, the gang piles into an Uber that’s two spots too small to head back to Percy and Grover’s apartment. Grover takes the front seat while Percy and Annabeth are crammed in the backseat behind him—and yes, that’s the same one person seat, because Beckendorf, Silena, and Clarisse are stuffed next to them. Percy curses the Stolls and Katie for living within walking distance of downtown and wonders if anyone will Venmo him back for the Uber. 

If Grover doesn’t get them kicked to the curb, that is. Annabeth shifts in Percy’s lap to hold their friend’s head upright before he can pitch forward on a hard break. Percy tightens his arm around her waist in lieu of a seatbelt. Only a few more miles until they’re home free. 

Clarisse is giving Grover a passionate and profane pep talk from her middle seat when Percy looks her way, and Silena and Beckendorf look like they’re trying to swallow each other on her other side. He buries his face between Annabeth’s shoulder blades and groans. His five star passenger rating is going down in flames. 

“Hey,” Annabeth pinches his arm. “Don’t you go giving out on me too, Jackson. We still have to go up three flights of stairs and I carried Grover last time.” 

“I carried Grover last time.” 

“You carried Connor. Now listen up, we’re almost there and I have a plan.” 

“Oh god, she has a plan.” 

“Shut up. You love my plans.” 

“Whatever you say, captain.” 

“Grover is going to puke as soon as we stop, so I’m going to run and open his door. I need you to push him out of the car the second I’m out.” 

“And if you don’t make it?” 

“I’m gonna make it.” 

The car stops and abruptly ends the argument. Annabeth flies out her door and Percy shoves Grover forward by the shoulders just as he yells about puking. Never bet against Annabeth, or something like that. Grover tumbles onto the sidewalk without leaving a mark in the Uber. 

Instead he throws up on Annabeth. 

The only sound is Clarisse cackling as Percy wrestles his way out of the car. Grover starts crying while Annabeth sits there, covered in vomit and a look of shock. 

He presses his keys into her hand. “You go shower, and I’ll be up there soon with—” The Uber driver starts yelling at Clarisse. “Hang on.” 

He pulls the other three out of the backseat before anything else can go wrong. The Uber speeds away the moment the door closes.

Annabeth pulls Grover to his feet. “You’ll lose Silena and Beckendorf if you try it alone, and I really don’t want to bail anyone out for indecent exposure in the morning. Take Grover before I strangle him.” 

Percy knows better than to question Annabeth when she’s got that fierce look in her eye, so he hoists Grover over his shoulder without the usual sideways comment. “Once is enough, buddy,” he says quietly, hoping Grover doesn’t puke down his back. 

Annabeth leads the way up the stairs, holding Clarisse’s hand and pausing every ten steps to shoo Silena and Beckendorf forward. She’s right, as always: Percy would’ve lost them. But Annabeth handles it with her shoulders squared and her expression fiery, making Percy glad once more that he’s as close to sober as he is. It’s so easy to get dumbstruck looking at her, even when her makeup is smudged and she’s covered in their best friend’s vomit. No matter the circumstances, Percy will always find her beautiful. 

By the time he dumps Grover in his own bed, the lovebirds have claimed the couch and the shower is running. Just as the panic of missing Clarisse strikes, Percy hears Annabeth curse at her from the bathroom. 

“Percy!” she yells.

Then Clarisse. “Yeah, c’mere Twinkle Toes.” 

“Shut up.”

He raps his knuckles against the door. The shower is running. “You okay?” 

The door opens wide enough for Annabeth’s face. “Could you grab me some clothes? I think I left some last time I spent the night.” 

Clarisse coos. “Spent the night, huh?” 

There’s a thud, a curse, and Annabeth nearly slips as she presumably kicks Clarisse. She catches herself just as her bare shoulder comes into view. 

Percy clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. No problem.” 

He retreats to his room and grabs an old sweatshirt and pair of plaid pants for her. She definitely left something of her own the last several times she came over, but sue Percy for enjoying the sight of her in his clothes. 

Clarisse answers the door looking suspiciously like she’s been sprayed by the showerhead. “Do us all a favor,” she hisses, “and tell her how you feel. How long has it been, anyway? Silena owes me money if I’m right.” 

Percy waves her off and tosses the clothes in her face, but once everyone has gone to bed and Annabeth is asleep and smelling like his own bodywash on the other side of his bed, he faces the truth. 

He is a coward harboring a secret truth that shines like sunlight, one that can only be faced alone at night because it’s so blinding. 

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he whispers, watching her chest rise slowly in the moonlight. 

And then her breath catches, her eyelashes flutter, and Percy is an idiot caught in her headlights. 

She doesn’t move, just swallows deeply and says, “Say that again.” 

“I thought you were asleep.” 

“Percy, please.” 

The please and the fact that she hasn’t run out of the room are the only reasons he’s able to repeat himself. 

“How drunk are you?” She sounds small, unsure, and entirely unlike herself.

He props himself up on his elbow and nearly reaches for her. “Completely sober.” 

And then she’s rolling them over faster than Percy can process, and he would want to slow down this moment if her lips weren’t on his with a fervor he’s only dreamed of. The world is blindingly bright in the midnight morning; the sun isn’t out, but it might as well be. 

Percy says “I love you,” against her mouth, and he thinks maybe he could be brave for her. If being brave means a lifetime of this, he’ll never take the coward’s way out again.

All the takes are correct and yet they also miss the point. Yes, it was insane for the Democrats to think they could win by running a soulless candidate, without a shred of progressive policy vision, pursuing endorsements from neocon war-hawks everybody hates, while arming and funding a genocide, and belittling and crushing those who have enough morality to protest it. It is enraging that the Democrats are so smug and blind to this. But these are all just symptoms. The deeper reality is that liberalism has failed, liberalism is dead, and people urgently need to wake up to this fact and respond accordingly. It is a defunct ideology that cannot offer any meaningful solutions to our social and ecological crises and it must be abandoned. Democrats have proven over and over again that they cannot accept even basic steps like public healthcare, affordable housing, and a public job guarantee - things that would dramatically improve the material, social and political conditions of the working classes. And they cannot accept a public finance strategy that would steer production away from fossil fuels and toward green transition to give us a shot at a liveable future. Why? Because these things run against the objectives of capital accumulation. And for liberals capital is sacrosanct. They will do whatever it takes to ensure elite accumulation, it is their only consistent commitment. At home, they suppress and demonize progressive and socialist tendencies. Abroad, they engage in endless wars and violence to suppress input prices in the global South and prevent any possibility of sovereign economic development. The Democrats have done all this purposefully and knowingly, for my whole life, not as some kind of "mistake" but in full consciousness that it is in the interests of capital. And because liberalism cannot address our crises, and because it crushes socialist alternatives, it inevitably paves the way for right-wing populism. They know this pattern, and yet they risk it every time - this election being only the most recent example. They did it in 2016, when they actively crushed the Sanders campaign and sent Trump to the White House. They do it because ultimately they (and I mean the liberal ruling class here) don't really mind if fascists take power, so long as the latter too ensure the conditions for capital accumulation. They 100% prefer this to the possibility of a socialist alternative. So, progressives have to face reality. The dream of "converting" the Democratic party is dead. This is now a fact and it must be accepted. The only option is to build a mass-based movement that can reclaim the working classes and mobilize a political vehicle that can integrate disparate progressive struggles into a unified and formidable political force and achieve substantive transformation. This will take real work, actual organizing, but it must be done and that process must begin now.

Jason Hickel

percabeth + in the storm?? if u want to ofc💞💞💞

It’s an innocent thing, dancing in the rain. At a certain point you resign yourself to being soaked to the bone, and you take this moment to turn your face to the grey sky, to dance in the face of a force of nature. 

Percy and Annabeth are caught in such a storm on their way to Annabeth’s dorm. Initially they attempt to wait it out at Sally’s, but between Annabeth’s strict curfew and Percy’s water powers, the usual excuses to stay in for the night don’t hold up for long. 

He walks her back with their fingers laced and wrists crossed as always, but it serves more of a purpose now. Raindrops skirt around the couple, or maybe they hit an invisible barrier above them to keep out of the way. It doesn’t matter. What matters is the way the storm clouds reflect in Annabeth’s eyes. 

She’s several minutes into a rant about columns and arches that Percy lost track of after ten seconds, but he tries to keep up, to find something to quote back to her when she ends up repeating herself. Her face will soften, she’ll bite her bottom lip the way she does when she’s flustered, and Percy’s brain turning to mush from the mental gymnastics necessary to keep up with her will be worth it. 

Ideally, he could do that now. But she’s just so radiant even in a gloomy city; the sun has abandoned New York for the time being, but Annabeth is bright enough to light it all up. 

Unable to stop himself, Percy tugs on her hand and pulls her to him, interrupting her rant with a kiss. Terrible manners, but judging by the content hum in the back of Annabeth’s throat, she’ll forgive him. 

Annabeth pulls Percy closer, pressing up on her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck. She always does this after she gets passionate about something, even when Percy has the self-control to watch her without interrupting. When he asked, she said it was the way he looked at her. That was the extent of her explanation, but Percy has seen the way people look at beautiful things: all softness, slack jaw, and twinkling eyes. It’s hard to imagine himself looking at her with anything less. 

Rain is the last thing on Percy’s mind when he’s got Annabeth so close—he swears that girl does things to his brain. All at once, his shield fails and cold rain seeps into their clothes. 

Annabeth yelps and jumps back, then turns to Percy with a glare that is somehow both endeared and murderous. Like any sane person, he bolts. 

She takes off after him as he sprints in the direction of her dorm. Water pelts Percy’s face, rejuvenating him until his stride overtakes Annabeth’s, much to her fury. He’s able to plant himself in the concrete and catch her, using her momentum to throw her over his shoulder in victory. 

She nearly takes his eye out with a flailing shoe, so he settles for putting her down long enough to tug her close again and to splash in the puddles for some ridiculous dance. This time she’s all endearment; joy splits her face in a grin as water falls into her eyes, her gaze fixed on Percy. 

They dance in the rain like fools for the whole block to see. People holed up in their apartments might scoff at the idiots in love on the sidewalk below, but they don’t know the joy of dancing in the rain. Carefree moments don’t come so easily to Percy and Annabeth, two people who care so deeply. They have to take these moments as they come. 

It’s an innocent thing, falling in love. At a certain point you resign yourself to being soaked to the bone, and you take this moment to turn your face to the grey sky, to dance in the face of a force of nature.