Hey! We Thought This Might Be Coming And Here It Is. And It Sucks! Mass Vaccination Is One Of Our Best

famous last words that make me go feral and tender at the same time

— “Happy.” Raphael (1520)

— “I’m still learning.” Michelangelo (1564)

— “A great leap in the dark.” Thomas Hobbes (1679)

— “It has all been most interesting.” Mary Wortley Montagu (1762)

— “Now is not the time for making new enemies.” Voltaire, when asked by a priest to renounce Satan before his death (1778)

— “Go live in the country. Stay in mourning for two years, then remarry, but choose somebody decent.“ Alexander Pushkin, Russian poet, to his wife (1837)

— "Take courage, Charlotte; take courage.” Anne Brontë, to her sister Charlotte Brontë (1849)

— "I must go in, for the fog is rising.“ Emily Dickinson (1886)

— "Now comes the mystery.“ Henry Ward Beecher (1887)

— "Pull up the shades; I don’t want to go home in the dark.“ O. Henry (1910)

— "Swing low, sweet chariot.“ Harriet Tubman (1913)

— "It’s very beautiful over there.“ Thomas Edison (1931)

— "I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been.“ Virginia Woolf to her husband (1941)

— "Are you happy? I’m happy.“ Ethel Barrymore (1959)

— "I love you. Sleep well, my sweetheart. Please don’t worry too much.“ Rob Hall, to his wife (1996)

— "A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory.” Leonard Nimoy (2015)

— "I want to be with Carrie.“ Debbie Reynolds (2016)

Don’t Call It A Comeback • mob au 

Annabeth sits at her desk that belonged to her mother before her and admires the intricate carvings that mark its edges. She smiles to herself, having missed the feeling of sitting behind it, reminded of the power that seems to emanate from its mahogany. Her hands are flat on its cool surface, as if asking it to forgive her for her absence. As she reacquaints herself with it, there is a gentle rap on the door, and she looks up to see Charles poke his head in.

“Hey boss,” he says with a sweet smile. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” she says, leaning back in her chair.

“Saying hi to an old friend, I see,” he says with his usual charming smile.

“I missed her so much,” she says in a whiny tone. “I mean, my desk in Elysium is great, but this one… it’s special.”

Charles laughs as he sits down. “Well, once you two are done having your moment, can we talk about what you would like to do today?”

Annabeth takes a deep breath, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands in her lap. “This desk surely isn’t the only one who has been missing me these past few years.”

“Certainly not.”

“I figure I should… make the rounds. Say hi. Remind people who I am.”

“And why they stay in line,” Charles adds with a look of pride.

“Precisely.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Where would you like to start?”

continue on ao3

“but why do we need to teach or mention asexuality in health class”

well my guy, maybe so asexual teens dont think something’s wrong w them ???

can u guys believe we used to just live like this

look if you're cis dont reply to jk rowling and then screenshot your tweet and post it. donate to trans charities, specifically british trans charities, because jk lives here and has been informed by british politics. thats why shes a terf.

i know everyone likes to pretend trans rights issues are universally similar, but trans rights issues in the uk are wildly different. fight on the context she is

mermaidsuk, which helps trans youth get help

albert kennedy trust, helps homeless lgbt people (the uk currently has one dedicated homeless shelter for lgbt people, and its in london)

all about trans, which is trying ensure trans people are better represented in the media

trans rights are human rights, and trans people in the uk deserve our voices heard as much as trans americans. jk rowling is noy an anomaly, and represents the average british feminist. fighting against terfs requires systematic change, something british trans people not only cant do alone, but something we have to try and do as terfs actively lobby the government to take away our human rights (with there currently being talk of a bill which would cause under 18s to lose the ability to begin transitioning in any form, and a member of the house of lords currently waxing romantically about having trans rights removed in multiple areas)

you have to understand that talking the jk doesn't work. she doesnt care. use your time productively and spread these charities around. dont even reblog this post if you dont want to, make your own. just make it known that trans people in the uk are used to people acting like this, and soon we may not be able to do anything about them at all

48 for percabeth! I hope u feel better about the show

Annabeth has known that Percy was going to die from the moment she met him. Four summers. Best case scenario. 

Twelve-year-old Annabeth wasn’t particularly concerned about falling in love with the trouble-making son of Poseidon who drooled in his sleep. Freshly sixteen Annabeth sometimes wishes she had opted for the quiet life some children of Athena preferred: strategize, keep your head down, live a comfortable and unremarkable life. She hardly would’ve crossed paths with Percy outside of the occasional class or Capture the Flag. He and Grover could’ve found someone else to be their best friend, or maybe they would’ve bonded as a pair. And Annabeth would have kept her distance from Percy in the name of self-preservation, knowing they would only have four bittersweet summers together at best. 

The summer before the Titan War is not the best case scenario. Percy is hardly ever at camp except for quests and Kronos-related meetings. He chooses to spend what they both know is his last of their four measly summers away from Annabeth. Grover is nowhere to be found, Thalia is with the Hunters, Luke is hosting the Titan Lord, and Annabeth feels more like a scared little girl than she has in a long time. At least she isn’t the runaway. That title fell to Percy. 

It feels like an insult to Annabeth’s love for Percy to wish they hadn’t met. She is so much better for having loved him. For loving him—present tense. But she says this while he’s still here. His smile may not be directed at her that often, but he still smiles. Sometimes Annabeth can even stomach the jealousy of Rachel being the cause of that smile, because at least someone is giving him joy before this all goes to shit. When it does, maybe Annabeth will understand what it means to wish him away, if only to end the pain of having known and lost a person like Percy Jackson. 

The feeling isn’t new. Annabeth’s gut has twisted in previous conversations where someone would bring up high school and college plans. Percy would talk animatedly about getting his license at sixteen, and Annabeth was left with a dry mouth she could not twist into a smile. He would beam at Beckendorf’s plans to attend NYU in the fall and make the older boy promise to swing by Sally’s sometime. Even Beckendorf, who had never heard the full Great Prophecy, could not stop the microexpression of pity. 

When Annabeth first heard the prophecy, it was too much for her ten year old mind. There was no face to connect to the doomed fate, no cursed blade to reap the hero’s soul. Sometimes her young brain conjured an image of Thalia, but that was a nightmare of its own. Every night, Annabeth would watch Olympus fall at the hands of someone she hoped never to know. 

She still gets those nightmares, only the visuals have improved. Percy is in every single one of them, saving or razing Olympus depending on the night. He never survives. You cannot outrun fate. Annabeth has tried. 

Still, she is a daughter of Athena, and Athena always has a plan. When Percy dies, Annabeth will fall to pieces. In a lucky string of events, she might fall alongside him. It’s a war, after all. But she has a sneaking suspicion that she will outlive him. She has a plan for this as well. The shroud they made when he was stranded on Calypso’s island was nice and communal, leagues ahead of the one the Ares cabin shroud that still makes Annabeth’s blood boil. But deep in her soul, Annabeth knows that she alone will make his shroud. Just as she’ll burn it.; just as she’ll care for Sally in his stead; just as she will lay blue roses on his headstone every time she’s in the neighborhood; just as she’ll be there for Grover, for Clarisse, for all of camp when he’s gone. She will do it alone. Annabeth held the sky, once. She will shoulder this as well. How much heavier could losing her best friend be than the weight of the world? In her anticipation, they feel the same. 

She will build a monument for him, something to last the ages as he was supposed to, as permanent as the love he has given her. It will overlook the gods on Olympus, a reminder of the boy they failed. The boy who was too good for them all. Regardless of how the war goes, this will always be true. 

He was never built to last. Nothing good ever can, and he’s been burning the candle at both ends for a while now. He was meant to burn bright, not long. 

Annabeth sits in the dark of the Big House rec room, the only quiet space now that camp is in full war preparation. Well, the only quiet space apart from the beach, but Annabeth knows the smell of salt air and the sound of waves will be her undoing. That is another key feature of her plan: never go to the ocean again. 

She curls her knees into her chest, feeling every inch the child that she is. But children are not supposed to have plans for their best friend dying. Children are not supposed to have their first kiss out of fear that said best friend will die before their four summers are up. 

The door opens, throwing the room into harsh shadows and blinding light. 

“Um.” Annabeth can’t see who’s talking, but she’d know his voice anywhere. “Chiron said there was a war council meeting today.” 

She raises a hand to block out the light and give her eyes time to adjust. “Yeah, later.” To Annabeth’s horror, her voice is hoarse. Her throat is clogged with tears. 

Percy’s sneakers stop shifting in the carpet. “Are, uh... are you okay?” 

He sounds hesitant to ask, like he’s expecting vitriol to spew from Annabeth’s mouth. And, in fairness, sometimes it does. But Annabeth doesn’t have vitriol in her right now. The awareness that she does not have many days left with Percy is painfully acute. To spend them angry feels like a waste. 

“No, I’m not.” By now her eyes have adjusted to the light, and she looks at him through bleary eyes. 

Percy stills when he sees her face, looking ready to bolt. He points to the door. “Do you want me to...?”

Annabeth sniffles. “I don’t want to be alone.” 

What breaks her is how quickly he is by her side. For all their faults, it is the one thing she can count on. As long as she lets him, Percy will come to Annabeth when she’s hurting.

She doesn’t tell him how deeply that statement is carved into her, that she is carved from loneliness the same way he is carved from guilt—the pitfalls of pride and loyalty. 

A kid carved from loneliness cannot plan to be held the way that Percy holds Annabeth. Such a selfless love was unfathomable as a little girl; how could she ever have accounted for it? He just.. holds her. He doesn’t try to talk or look at her face. He’s just there, unwaveringly. It kills Annabeth to know he won’t always be. It hurts to be with him, but it will hurt so much more to be without him. 

The dam breaks, and Annabeth sobs into Percy’s shoulder. He’s taller than her now, grown only to be cut down young. Still, he is steadfast, grounded, secure in his roots. The way a towering oak has no reason to fear a chainsaw until the cutting has already begun. 

“You’re my best friend,” she tells him, because she’s not sure she’s ever said it and it’s something he deserves to hear. “No matter what, you’re my best friend.” 

Percy strokes a gentle hand along the back of Annabeth’s head. “And you’re mine,” he assures her. He doesn’t say you’re my best friend too. Just you’re mine. As if the fact doesn’t haunt her. She is his, irrevocably. 

A gentle knock at the door interrupts them. Annabeth recognizes Silena’s quiet footfalls and almost withdraws from Percy, but he makes no move to. 

Silena’s voice is soft, not smug like Annabeth expects. “War council in fifteen. Figured I’d give you two a heads up.” 

Annabeth meets her eyes over Percy’s shoulder. “Thanks.” 

The older girl ducks her head in something resembling shame. “It’s the least I can do.” She leaves. 

“How much longer?” Percy asks when the door clicks shut. It isn’t an impatient question. In fact, Annabeth doesn’t know exactly what he’s asking. 

She gives an honest answer. “However long we have left.” And the sun begins to set on the fourth summer. 

How do you protect yourself from being stalked online by your parents?

I often get messages from teens living with their abusive parents telling me about how terrifying it is for them to even look at my blog in case their parent finds out. I was a teenager before social networking on the internet. Honestly, when I was a teenager there was barely an internet yet. So, I don’t know how people protect themselves but I feel like probably there are ways. If you know please do share! A lot of people would find it helpful.

Let me explain the food stamps issue.

Today, all people on SNAP got their FEBRUARY benefit early. If you get January benefits you should still get them on your regular benefit day, provided it’s before (I believe) the 27th. (I may be wrong on that)

But yes, January and February benefits have been given out.

There will be no March benefit. Unless the shutdown ends and the 2019 budget is passed and the budget contains funding for SNAP.

The SNAP program has run out of money. There is no money for food stamps because the budget was not passed. In his tantrum over the Wall, Trump is starving us.

If you know somebody on Food Stamps, and you have some extra money, consider passing it their way. But also be prepared to help in March, and April and so on, if the shutdown doesn’t end, or if the budget does not contain SNAP funding.

Don’t let us starve to death.

and that’s a wrap.

thank you so much to everyone who has submitted, supported, reblogged, etc our posts over the 3? years of this blog’s existence lol. we appreciate it so much! but both of us felt like it was a good time to retire bpi. we’ll leave the blog up and maybe periodically post on it but since its been pretty inactive anyways this was the next logical step. 

thank you for the laughter and joy!

love from @makoshark & @transannabeth,

badpjoideas (jan 13 2017-aug 30 2020)