i saw a tweet thread prefaced with “I’ve never believed or subscribed to a conspiracy theory in my life. that said…” and it made my wheels spin a little bit
i feel like the idea of conspiracy theories gets a bad rap, bc many of them have a right wing flare about them. but, like, if you want to be very technical about it, a surprise birthday party is a conspiracy lol. personally I don’t think it’s crazy or unfair to say “people in power don’t always have holistic motivations”
additionally I feel like it’s shitty that the visibility of things like Q and Covid denialism have poisoned the well where it concerns healthy skepticism about the ruling class. there’s a batshit part of me that wonders if those ideas were astroturfed to encourage complacency. even though I know that’s a load of shit lol.
The most batshit and reactionary conspiracy theories are intentionally promoted and even astroturfed in order to discredit all deep examination and questioning of the state and its official narratives, and to ensure the ones that gain traction are nonthreatening to the existing powers.
Imagine you're the CIA and you want to keep people from looking into your project. It's easiest to preemptively discredit the theories and the people who believe them by twisting the truth to something that sounds absurd and promoting that.
Chemtrails? Fluoride in the water for mind control? Some Q bit about pedo cabals and pizza restaurants? If someone starts talking to you about any of those subjects, your immediate response is to laugh nervously, run away, and then post about the weirdo on the internet later. (And you're not unjustified for doing so — Q people especially scare the shit out of me.)
But the thing is, there are elements of truth to each of them. In the 1950s, the US Army intentionally dispersed irradiated zinc cadmium sulfide over low income and predominantly-Black neighborhoods in St. Louis as part of a Cold War weapons test. MK ULTRA is a real, known CIA project intended for mind control. It is an open secret that many of the international bourgeoisie have close contacts with child sex traffickers and high-profile pedos; look at all of Jeffery Epstein's contacts.
The only way you counter the truth of these things is to muddy it and bury it under so much dubious "evidence" and antisemetic/racist/xenophobic garbage that any reasonable person would hear it and go "wtf obviously all of this is made up" and then look no further into it and immediately disbelieve anything that remotely sounds like it in the future.
exactly- another great example of this in action is the book “Behold A Pale Horse”- which takes legitimate research into the origin of HIV by Soviet biologist Jakob Segal, and in particular the way it may have been utilized willfully by the USA against black and gay communities, and tacks on antisemitism and UFO bullshit. it makes it nearly impossible to research this kind of thing without being deluged in nonsense. just try researching MK ULTRA, for every piece of credible info you find you have to sift through tons and tons of “MASONIC SYMBOLISM IN THE SUPERBOWL HALF-TIME SHOW!” garbage.
There was a buzz of excitement in the room that Annabeth herself could not quite believe— even she was surprised to realize how much she was looking forward to entertaining the callers. Perhaps they would all be putting on airs in an attempt to win her favor, but the promise of stimulating conversation was too appealing to turn down.
percabeth and jasiper // read on ao3 // playlist // for byima
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Annabeth asked, looking up at him. He looked back at her innocently. It seemed genuine, which only confirmed Annabeth’s suspicions.
“Why do you say that?” he asked. His eyes were really a distracting shade of green.
“Most people from here know better than to show me kindness,” Annabeth said, beginning to walk down the road again. He started walking again too.
“I think everyone deserves kindness,” he said, easily. A little too easily.
“Well forgive me for saying so, but that’s a very naive way of viewing things,” Annabeth said, quickening her pace. He matched it easily.
“Do you not think you deserve kindness?” he asked.
“It’s more complicated than that,” Annabeth insisted. “Not that you would understand.”
On their second night at the cabin, Percy and Annabeth decide to head down into the resort to try out the bars. Annabeth has always been too young on her previous trips here so she’s never ventured from the cabin after dark. She and Percy also feel that a Christmas drink is well overdue, so they need no further excuse.
Eve suggests they all go into the town together to eat dinner before Percy and Annabeth separate off, and Matthew has asked everyone to don their Christmas Sweaters for the occasion. Which finds Percy and Annabeth digging through their bags while the others wait downstairs.
“I’m so glad we bought these in Freshman year,” Percy says, his voice muffled as he sticks his head halfway into his backpack before emerging triumphant with his sweater in hand.
Annabeth, already pulling hers over her head, stares at him as realisation dawns on her. “Aw, fuck,” she says.
“What?”
“We bought matching sweaters three years ago. What is wrong with us?”
If you ever write that walk around new rome....i shall combust.
Arrives over a year late with starbucks....here you go anon, I hope you are still around in the fandom to read it! and that it was worth the wait.
“No.”
Reyna’s body moved away from Percy, confusion and anger clear on her face. If Reyna was anything like Annabeth, she definitely didn’t like when people didn’t do what she expected them to. “Excuse me?”
“No offense Reyna,” Percy said, judging by Reyna's body language she was in fact offended. “But not only have I not seen Annabeth in six months, but I also have no idea what the fuck has been going on with my family and friends.”
“Well, I’m sure your girlfriend can update you after I’m done talking to her.” Reyna’s eyes were hard, challenging her in front of her camp was probably not Percy’s brightest idea, but Annabeth couldn’t say she didn’t agree with him.
“Well, Annabeth is not only my girlfriend but also my best friend, and right now she's the only person who can fill me in on the months since I was kidnaped by Hera. So if you'll excuse me, we're going to go for a walk so she can tell me how my mother is doing.” Percy started standing up. “After everything that I have gone through lately I think I deserve at least that.”
Reyna’s eyes were murderous, and while Percy flinched at her stare he didn’t back down, and if Annabeth was being honest in that moment she didn’t care much about being diplomatic and accepting Reyna’s offer. She hadn’t seen her boyfriend in six months, the one thing she wanted to do right now was to be alone with Percy and kiss him senseless, not going for a walk with a practical stranger. Sure, Reyna was in charge of the Roman demigods, but Annabeth’s current priority was Percy; she and Reyna could talk politics later.
Percy turned, the bravado he had shown seconds ago was gone, instead, he looked at Annabeth with some panic on his face and quickly gestured for them to leave the forum, probably before Reyna’s shock ended and she started yelling at him.
“Reyna looked pissed,” Annabeth said once they were outside the forum and had started to walk towards the hills that she assumed were where the city was located.
“Oh believe me, she's super pissed.” Percy squeezed her hand. “She's probably cursed me a hundred times already and is thinking up ways to kill me in a political way.”
His tone was joking but Annabeth knew him and she could see he was tense and she didn’t know why. It wasn’t because of his exchange with Reyna, she had first noticed the way his shoulders had been rigid and his jaw was clenched during lunch. He was good at hiding it, and Annabeth wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been studying him so intently. He didn’t say more, he just held her hand and kept walking, face full of determination. If it hadn't been for his hand firmly intertwined with hers, and the soft way his thumb caressed her skin, she would have been filled with anxiety.
Annabeth could start to see what she assumed was New Rome. Colorful houses and buildings in what looked like a mix of Italian and Ancient Rome architecture. Under different circumstances she would have felt anticipation run in her veins, the idea of studying those beautiful buildings would have made her fingers itch with the need to sketch. But right now all that mattered to her was to be with Percy. With every step the buildings were taking form, she could appreciate their beauty and it was making up for the fact she had felt unwelcome in this camp filled with Romans. The Triumphal arch welcoming them into the city was getting closer when Percy changed their direction, instead leading her towards the forest on the outskirts of the city.
“Perce? Is this a short cut?” Annabeth asked, curiosity prominent in her voice.
“Yes, no, actually no,” Percy said, as they made it into the forest. “I’m just trying to find a spot but honestly I've barely spent like two full days here so I’m just winging it.”
They walked a little farther into the forest, and Annabeth gasped at the sight in front of her. She had been so busy looking at Percy and New Rome that she had missed the massive Redwoods, as beautiful as they were, she didn’t have time to fully observe them. Percy had stopped and before she could ask him anything, he turned around to face her and gently pushed her back against the trunk of a tree. And then his lips were moving against hers, hot, desperate, and hungry. His hands resting on her cheeks and hers wrapped around his neck. Annabeth was glad the tree was behind her for support or her knees would have given up the moment she felt his tongue lick her lower lip, making her part her lips and give him the freedom to enter her mouth. It was a messy kiss, tongues clashing, lips being pulled, bitten, and sucked. His body was pressed hard against hers and she wasn’t sure if the moaning she heard had come from him or her. Her lungs were on fire, begging her to take a break but Annabeth only kissed him harder, letting her hands roam from his neck to his back, chest, arms. His hands had ended up on her waist, under her shirt, a firm strong grip against her skin anchoring herself to him. When they finally pulled apart they were both breathing hard, she could feel his breath against her lips, his forehead resting against hers.
“Gods, that was- you are-” Percy said between breaths.
“Yeah,” Annabeth agreed. “You too.”
They stayed in that position trying to get their breathing back to normal, arms wrapped around each other. After six terrible months of desperation and uncertainty, Percy was finally back with her.
“I've wanted to do that since the moment I saw you leave the ship.” His hands cupped her face, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks. “I can’t believe you're here.”
His bright sea-green eyes, filled with so much awe, love and adoration mixed with the gentle touch of his hands against her skin finally made her crumble. All the stress, anger, fear, nervousness, desperation, and sadness she had felt for the past six months could finally leave her body because Percy was reunited with her. And they left in the form of tears. Not small soft crying with tears gently falling from her eyes, but the ugly body shaking sobbing mess that left her gasping for air from how hard she was crying. She had definitely taken Percy by surprise, if his widened eyes and look of panic were any indication. But Annabeth couldn’t stop even if she wanted to, the dam had been broken and there wasn’t anything she could do to stop it.
“I was so scared you wouldn’t remember me,” she said between sobs, sobs that were loud and awful, making her have trouble breathing. “I thought I had lost you.”
Percy wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him. Her head rested against his chest, her hands clutching his purple shirt. Annabeth thought of his bright orange camp shirts, the ones she had packed for him and cried even harder. Seeing him wearing the Camp Jupiter shirt felt so wrong, it was another reminder that he had been taken away from their home, from her.
His hands rubbed patterns on her back, she barely heard the comforting words mixed with apologies he was whispering against her hair. She wasn’t sure how long they had stayed that way, with her desperately clinging to him while he pulled her as close as he could to him.
“I’m sorry,” Percy said once her body had stopped shaking and her sobbing had become an occasional gasp for air. “I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” She mumbled against his shirt. Her body felt exhausted after the roller coaster of emotions she had felt in the past hour. “This was Hera’s doing.”
“I know but-” He gently grabbed her chin, angling her face so she could face him. “What matters right now is that we are here, together and that holding you is no longer a dream.”
“You remembered me.”
“Of course I did, how could I not?” He closed the distance between them, kissing her lips slowly, gently, mumbling against her lips between kisses. “Not even the Queen of the gods could make me forget you.”
Annabeth deepened the kiss and pulled him as close as she physically could. She tried to convey her feelings through her kiss. You are my world she thought while she took his lower lip in her teeth. You make me feel loved like I have never felt before her tongue clashed against his. You are my soulmate, he pulled her lips with his teeth. We belong together, her tongue caressed his making him moan against her.
It was an intense kiss, like the one they had shared moments ago before her breakdown, but at the same time it was totally different. This kiss wasn’t filled with longing, need and desperation or relief of being together again but with passion, with the need to convey the love they felt for each other.
Percy broke off the kiss so he could kiss her forehead, nose, cheeks. He kissed every inch of her face he could and she giggled happily in return.
“I like you better in orange.” It was a childish thing to say, she knew, but especially after the moment they had.
Percy looked down at his clothes, he blinked a few times as if remembering where they were, in a forest in Northern California, not in the familiar woods of Long Island, hiding from other campers so they could have some moments alone. He touched his shirt with his hands, a conflicted look on his face. He had taken off his toga before their walk and Annabeth had been secretly glad about that.
“I like me better in orange too.” He looked at her shirt, probably noticing that it was looser and longer on her than all of the other shirts she owned, how the sleeves were closer to her elbows, the little burn mark around the hem after a marshmallow roasting gone wrong.
He smirked at her, his eyes shining with mischief. “So, am I going to find my shirts in your room or in mine?”
“What makes you think I packed clothes for you?” She had, in fact, taken a stupid amount of time planning and designing his room on the Argo II, and she put more thought into what to pack for him than her own clothes for the quest.
He interlocked their hands, the smile still present on his face. “A hunch, I guess.”
“Your clothes are in your room,” Annabeth mumbled, winning a laugh from her boyfriend. Gods, how had she missed that sound.
“Come on,” Percy said, pulling her hand. “I might not know much about New Rome but I know one thing for sure, they have killer hot chocolate.”
if u write zuko’s pov of the phone call i will punch u in the face. please do it.
just remember: you asked for this
This is stupid. It’s one date - that he doesn’t even want to go on, not really, because it means he has to have this conversation. It’s one date, he tells himself. Funny, he thinks, that he’s not reminding himself that it’s also just one hookup that he’s missing out on.
The phone rings and rings and rings.
He’s about to hang up when he finally hears Sokka’s voice say, “Hey, Zuko.”
“Hi,” Zuko says. Something loud and high-pitched echoes down the line. Hard to tell if it’s laughter or screaming. “Do you have company? I’m not interrupting, am I?”
“No, you’re fine,” Sokka assures him. “It’s just Katara and Aang over to see Momo. Suki says hi, by the way.”
Zuko feels heat rise in his cheeks. “Hi, Suki.”
“I’ll tell her,” Sokka says. “What’s up?”
There’s a smile in his voice, and Zuko can picture it as clear as day. His stomach twists itself into a knot, and he tries hard not to let the feeling of it bleed into his voice as he says, “Do you have a minute to - to talk? I don’t want to drag you away from your night.”
Sokka’s smile is replaced with concern. “Is everything okay? Do you need me to -”
“No, it’s alright,” Zuko says, even though it’s not, because the ache he feels at the sound of Sokka’s worry is stronger than anything he feels at the prospect of this date. “It’s just - I can’t come over tomorrow.”
“Oh,” Sokka says. “How come?”
“I have, um -” Bite the bullet, Zuko. “I have a date?”
He feels like he can breathe again now, though he’s not sure when he stopped.
“A date?” Sokka asks. He doesn’t sound nearly as fazed as Zuko wishes he would. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
“It’s, um, some guy Ty Lee knows.” It’s a struggle to recall the few details she gave him this afternoon. “His name’s Jet, I think. He’s some kind of activist. I don’t know, Ty Lee wouldn’t give me much to go on so I’m basically going in blind.”
“So what’s the - the plan, or whatever?” Sokka asks. There’s a peculiar strain to his voice, like he’s in pain or exerting himself. “What are you doing?”
“It’s a double date,” Zuko explains, and thank the stars above that it is. Blind dates don’t usually go well for him; most guys see the scar and run the other way. “Ty Lee and Mai, me and - and Jet. Ty Lee got the four of us a table at that fancy new place downtown. I don’t know what it’s called. The one with the chandeliers and the big sign in cursive.”
“I know the one,” Sokka says, and he sounds fond. Indulgent. Zuko wants to drown in that voice, the same one Sokka uses when Zuko makes a bad joke, when they’re watching TV and he picks something he knows Zuko likes, when there’s only one slice of pizza left.
Silence stretches down the line between them, until Zuko asks a question he’s not sure he even wants answered.
“It’s okay, right?”
Sokka doesn’t say anything for a moment, and the knot in Zuko’s stomach tightens, squeezes until he feels like he’s suffocating. Then, Sokka says, “What do you mean?”
“I mean -” Zuko sighs. This is harder than it should be, and he knows there’s only one person to blame for that. He grits his teeth and asks, finally, “I mean, you don’t mind, right? If I go?”
There’s a right answer to this question. There shouldn’t be, but there is.
He knows this isn’t fair of him. He shouldn’t ask it like this, he shouldn’t put Sokka under pressure like this - he shouldn’t feel like this, either, desperate and hopeful and tragic, but he does. He does.
He feels desperate and hopeful and tragic, so he’s saying to Sokka, do you mind, except that’s not the truth of it, that’s not the whole of it.
He’s saying to Sokka, tell me you mind. Tell me you don’t want anyone else to have me. Tell me I’m yours.
Tell me I’m yours. Tell me I’m yours. Tell me I’m yours.
“Why would I mind?”
Something in Zuko shatters.
“No reason,” he says, because isn’t that the truth? Sokka has no reason to mind if he goes out with someone else. That’s not what they are to each other, and he was a damn fool to think otherwise.
“Listen,” he says, “I have to go.”
“Oh,” Sokka says, and has the nerve to sound disappointed. “I - okay.”
“I just wanted to, um, let you know what’s going on,” Zuko says. Keeping his voice level is a herculean feat. “I didn’t want you to think I was standing you up.”
(I wanted you to give me a reason not to.)
“There’s a dirty joke in there somewhere,” Sokka muses. “I just can’t find it.”
In spite of everything, in spite of himself, Zuko smiles. He’s ruined.
“Stop looking,” he says. “I’ll see you, Sokka.”
He’s got his thumb hovering over end call, when Sokka says, “Hey, Zuko, wait.”
Zuko’s lungs open up and his heart leaps into his throat. “Yeah?”
“Call me after. I want to hear all about it.”
That’s - it’s not what he wants, but it’s something. It’s the suggestion that this isn’t the end of them, that he’ll get to hear Sokka’s voice again, maybe even his laughter, if he’s lucky.
“I - yeah, okay,” he says. “That’s - that’s all, I guess. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Enjoy your night, say hi to Momo for me.”
He hangs up before he has to hear Sokka say goodbye.
read and i’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands)
ok so i don’t think social media as a concept is inherently terrible. in fact, i think the ability to connect with people online (whether they’re strangers or people from your past you lost touch with) is great and has helped me a lot in my own life. the root cause of social media’s evil is how addicting it is. people are now spending every waking minute on these apps, trying to gain as many likes/followers/shares/etc. as possible. they spend hours upon hours curating their feeds and stories and personalities to show that they’re thriving and living a perfect life. the addiction has also led to people becoming terminally online, because they’d rather spend all day talking about fandoms and other fictional nonsense than logging off and experiencing life outside a screen. and this addiction is a direct result of capitalism because these social media companies make money by keeping people on their site looking at ads. by ensuring that their users get hooked they continue to make a profit. so they add explore pages and targeted ads and visible likes/followers because they know how easily we will fall into the trap of trying to prove our worth with these arbitrary numbers and values. they know that allowing people to connect over shared interests will create insular communities and combining it with the addiction just makes it even more detached from reality to the point where these people will literally be unable to process things like racism outside of a fandom lens. if social media wasn’t monetizable it would be a lot more bearable and we wouldn’t have people equating their stats with their self worth and we sure as hell wouldn’t have to get into arguments every other day about how fanfiction isn’t literature lmfao
B99 + Olympics AU: in which Amy finds herself hoping that what happens in the Olympic Village doesn’t stay in the Olympic Village.
They first meet at the opening ceremony at Sochi, when Jake literally bumps into her. (“Charles! Take my picture with it!” He’d been yelling, before colliding into her back and nearly sending them crashing onto the arena floor. Amy just waved off his flustered apology with a laugh. “First Olympic Games? Mine too.”) They get separated in the crowd before they’re able to properly introduce themselves, but their little exchange keeps her warm throughout the freezing night.
She’d probably deny it if anyone asked, but they next meet again thanks to Tinder. (“You two just need to bone,” declared her new friend, a figure skater. Amy wasn’t sure she agreed with that logic, but she did download a couple dating apps on the off chance she’d be able to swipe right on him.) They chat for a bit then decide to take a walk around the Village; they’d be eating their weight in free McDonald’s if it weren’t for their upcoming events. Talking to Jake is light and breezy, but it’s also so much more than that, like they’ve known each for decades or for an eternity’s worth of past lives.
They cheer each other on, not just at Sochi but also in Amsterdam and in Oslo and wherever else they’re competing. For months, the support only comes in texts and calls and video chats. (“Is everything okay?” She whispered into her phone after one particular competition of his, knowing full well what it’s like to just narrowly miss the podium. “Everything’s fine,” Jake replied, voice low and even. “I’m talking to you.”) He surprises her by flying in for her last tournament of the season and claps the loudest when she’s awarded a gold medal. It’s silly, but she’s not sure whether she’s happiest about breaking a national record or about finally finding out what it’s like to kiss her favorite speed skater.
(Bonus, as written by @jokeperatla: Jake proposes to Amy on live TV, right after she wins her first ever Olympic gold medal.)
