Hey! I Love Your Writing And Got So Excited When I Saw You Were Taking Prompts! Can You Do Post Tlo,

JUSTICE FOR CASEY GOODSON

On December 4th, 2020, Casey Christian Goodson Jr. (23 years old) was shot three times in the back and murdered by a Sheriff’s Deputy as he was entering his home in Columbus, Ohio. Goodson’s family stated that he was returning home from a dentist appointment, holding a Subway sandwich, his face mask, and his keys, when he was shot.

Two days later, the Columbus Police Department made a statement alleging that James Meade, the deputy responsible for Goodson’s death, saw a man believed to be Goodson with a gun while driving. Meade then approached Goodson after he exited his car and walked home, where he was shot.

Hours after the shooting, the US Marshal for the Southern District of Ohio, Peter Tobin, confirmed that Goodson was not the fugitive they were searching for. However, Tobin also added that he believed that the shooting was justified, claiming that Goodson was shot after he refused to drop his “weapon.”

Yet another Black man murdered by the police.

DEMAND JUSTICE.

art credit: @alex.albadree on instagram

graphics credit: @worldawarenessassociation on instagram

Riptide Chapter 7 

Annabeth paces furiously back and forth through the living room, taking small breaks to stop and give Percy death stares as he sits on the couch, his knee nervously bouncing up and down.

“Annabeth, will you please sit down?” he begs, desperate for a chance to explain.

“Why? So you can keep lying to my face?” she asks as she stops at the window and whips around. “I knew something had been going on with you but I thought you took like… a confidence seminar or something, not that you became a goddamn superhero!”

Percy runs his hands over his face. “I didn’t know when to tell you.”

She stops abruptly and crosses her arms to stare him down. “Definitely before we made out on your bed.”

He hangs his head. “That… is a great point. You’re completely right, I should have told you. I fucked up. I’m so so so sorry.”  

Annabeth exhales and sits across from Percy on the coffee table, as if the wave of initial anger has left her exhausted. “You’re an asshole.”  

Percy scoots forward until he’s sitting on the edge of the couch and reaches out to take Annabeth’s hand in his. “I’m so sorry, Annabeth. I wanted to tell you, I swear.”

“So why didn’t you?” she asks, and the hurt in her voice makes Percy want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

“This whole thing…” he starts, not entirely sure how to explain. “It got really complicated really fast. This isn’t meant as an excuse but I thought that by not telling you, I was keeping you safe. All I have ever wanted was to keep you safe. Please believe me.”

Annabeth bites her bottom lip as she scans Percy’s face. He keeps eye contact as he lifts her hand to his lips and tenderly places a kiss to it, praying to whoever is listening that he hasn’t fucked this up before it has even had a chance to really begin.

She looks over at Grover for a moment, who begins to stir, and she smiles. “I can’t believe it’s just been you and Grover this whole time. How the hell are you still alive?”

Percy’s heart soars as Annabeth’s hand squeezes his back, and he laughs. “Pure luck.”

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Riptide Chapter 3

The street outside the bookstore is quieter than usual. It’s just about closing time and Percy is shelving all the books who were moved from their nooks through the course of the day. Sally is cleaning the coffee counter, snacking on the last cookie in the display case and humming a song that Percy can’t quite place.

“Where have I heard that before?” he asks, rounding the corner of the nearest bookcase.

Sally smiles without looking up from what she’s doing. “It was one of your dad’s favorites. Every time it was on the radio, he’d turn it all the way up and sing along. Badly.”  

Percy laughs. “So I got my singing voice from him?”  

Sally looks up then. “Of course. I mean, I sing like an angel so it couldn’t be me.”  

They continue their customary movements around the store, making sure all the tables are clean, the books are put away, and the oven is off, before heading to the back office.

It’s a small, unimpressive space with just enough room for two people, three if necessary. There is a small wooden desk that Percy remembers helping his dad build, still being able to note the by P+P carved into one of its legs. He runs his hand over it as he sits down, feeling comforted by its graininess against his skin.  

Sally puts on her reading glasses and opens up her ledger, making notes of the days profits. “How we lookin?” Percy asks.

Sally sighs contentedly and leans back in her chair. “To be honest, we’re killing it.”  

Percy smiles and lifts his hand for a high-five which Sally returns gleefully. “I knew it. Big book chains eat your heart out.”

As she sits back, she begins to simply watch Percy, who squirms under her gaze.

“Don’t do that thing,” he says.

“What thing?” she asks, playing dumb.

“That thing where you watch me and use your mom witchcraft to just like, get everything out of me.”

She smiles and shrugs. “Can’t help it, just comes naturally.”

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Please reblog, this is so important.

Traditional Georgian dancing.

the Guardian

WWII: eighty years on, the world is still haunted by a catastrophe foretold | Peter Beaumont

Shock greeted the news that German tanks had rolled into Poland on September 1, 1939. But the slaughter of the continent’s Jews that was to

also see: from a 1937 documentation of gassing/torture methods of the Dacchan concentration camp in Nazi Germany reported emulations of America's "jail holocaust". this was flagellated onto El Paso immigrants who were bathed with kerosene and sprayed with vinegar due to their "racial impurity" much to the rise of eugenicism in the US, parallelistic to of how one of the key annihilators of the Jewish people in Nazi Germany was this chemical.

madness of hera au

Percy’s heart stopped and he fell to his knees as tears began to stream down his face. “Annabeth,” he whispered.

She rushed towards him and he wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her stomach.

She gently ran her fingers through his hair while cradling his head, attempting to soothe him through his sobs.

“It’s okay, Percy. We’re okay.”

He swallowed hard and concentrated on slowing his breathing, letting her familiar smell fill his lungs and bring him the peace he had been searching for so desperately

Finally he was able to pull his face from her, while keeping her waist firmly in his grip. “Are you… I mean, is this…”

She placed her hands on either side of his face, gently stroking his cheekbones with her thumbs. “This is real, Percy. I promise.”

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Deregulation strikes again.

“Free market” capitalism does NOT care about raging forest fires, it does not care about endangering firefighters, it does not care about people dying due to lack of healthcare insurance. Unregulated capatilism cares only about making profits, apparently at any and all costs.

and they were roommates (chapter seven) 

“Piper, I’m having an emergency.”

“Okay, on a scale of English essay to ridiculously repressed feelings, how bad?”

“I can’t—wait, are those the worst things you could think of me FaceTiming you for?” Annabeth isn’t sure whether to laugh or take offense. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. What the fuck do people wear to parties?”

“I don’t know. A dress or something?”

“Piper, I know you know these things.”

“Then you would know I learned everything against my will, Annabeth. You’re asking me to revisit a very traumatic time in my life.”

“Just answer the question.”

“Okay, just know that my therapist will hear about this.”

“Piper.”

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might fuck around and post this bitch tonight who knows