Fuck ICE

TBC since tumblr’s posting methods changed

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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Please, reblog! IIt’s called self defense. Apart from having here, in the US, one of the highest cases of homicide and rape in the world and high rate of GBV, think about how this could help your mother or sister

Just an FYI for those in the US with insurance issues

Women in Mexico disappear.

Today is a historic day in my country, we’re fed up with gender violence in Mexico. They’re killing us. Picture this, you can’t walk outside your own house because you fear the worst, you fear that your clothes are too revealing, you fear that you’re too alone, you fear that you’re walking the wrong streets. Day after day you wake up to the news of another feminicide. They’re killing us. You see it, you hear it, you fear it. What if I’m the next one? You’re always wondering. They’re killing us. 

10 women are killed every day, only because they’re women. And it doesn’t matter where we are, what we’re wearing, who we are. It’s not our fault, because they keep killing us. 

If we keep up at this rate? What’ll be of us? 

Yesterday we marched. 

(None of the pictures are mine) 

 “I march because I’m alive and I don’t know until when.” 

“Today, all our voices aren’t together because, from death, one can’t scream.” 

“We’re not hysteric, we’re historic.” 

“Mom, if you don’t find me, look up for me in the stars.” 

Yesterday we screamed. We flourished. 

“Mom, don’t worry, today I’m not alone in the streets.” 

Our monuments bled to represent us. 

We screamed. 

But not today, today march 9th 2020. We silenced ourselves. 

Today, we disappeared. No social networks, not a single woman in the streets, not a single woman working, not a single woman studying, not a single woman at any store.

What would Mexico be without us? If you don’t want us in the streets, fine we’ll disappear.

Without us, you’ll collapse. 

Mexico woke up with no women ticket-sellers in the subway stations, no women tellers at the bank. 

No women’s column on the newspapers. 

No women at their jobs. 

No women at school. 

No women on the streets.

Mexico woke up with no women. 

We can’t accept what we can’t change, but we will change what we can’t accept. 

We are angry, and we will rise. Because without us, you’re nothing. 

I wish that ao3 had an option to filter warnings (and tbh certain authors) out like I will never ever want to read it and just seeing it puts me off so much that often I end up closing my browser because that content upsets me so much lmao

Call me, Percy? valentine’s day edition. edit by sophii <3

This is Annabeth’s first Valentine’s day with Percy. Well, it’s actually their second, but it is the first one they will be spending together without anybody else and without having to be in school.

She has always celebrated previous ones with Hazel and Piper, going to Hazel’s mom’s restaurant and eating stupid amounts of food before watching rom coms in Hazel’s bedroom while they made themselves sick eating cookies and ice cream. She misses their love, misses being surrounded by and wrapped up in it on days like those, with chocolate smeared on cheeks and limbs crossed over underneath blankets. She hadn’t realised how much she would miss them until they were miles and miles away, making their own memories and futures just as she is.

She just misses them, is all.

“You got plans for the weekend?”

Annabeth looks over at her friend as they finish packing up from their lecture. “Percy’s coming down.”

“Right. You gonna go for dinner or something? That new italian restaurant in town is really good.”

They’re leaving the lecture hall now and Annabeth dodges a wild elbow which had been heading for her face. “Oh, um no. That’s not really our thing. We’re gonna go for a drive down the coast and probably get burgers or something.”

That earns a laugh. “Right. Y'all are cute.”

“Thank you, I think so too.”

Keep reading

The Olympic Tribune 

Leaving Los Angeles had never been in Piper’s plan, but a torrid affair with an actor and a classic car taking a nose dive into a swimming pool had chased her across the country to seek refuge.

Being out of a proper big city had been a hard transition at first, but after six months, Piper felt she was finally getting into a groove. Her apartment wasn’t far from downtown, a simple studio that she rented from a nice old lady, and she had finally perfected her morning routine: A bagel from Demeter’s Dough Bakery, a coffee from Hestia’s Hearth Cafe, and on the odd morning when she actually woke up on time, it included a walk through a small park in the neighborhood to say hello to the swans.

The Coeus building, which stood twelve stories tall and had a panoramic view of the city, was home to The Olympic Tribune, a well respected paper in the great state of New York. Founded the same year as the city of Olympic Harbor, the paper had always been a paragon of journalistic integrity, which is part of what attracted Piper to it so much. Well, that and the fact that they were the only paper out of twelve she applied to who called her back.  

The paper was housed on the building’s top floor, the editor’s office taking up the south east corner and facing the city’s namesake harbor which was dotted with the countless ships that used it daily.  

“This story is big,” Piper said as she looked out at the water, her arms crossed. “And I have a reliable source, the info is good.”

“Piper,” the editor began. “I respect your instincts, but you’re not here to be an investigative journalist.”

“Investigative journalist is a bit of an oxymoron, don’t you think, Lee?”

Lee Fletcher, who had been editor at the paper for ten years, rolled his eyes and joined Piper at the window. “Believe me when I say this story is not worth it, Piper.”

“So you admit there is a story there,” she said mischievously.

“The only thing I’m admitting is that you’re out of bounds.”  

“You sound scared,” she said, her tone inquisitive.

“And you sound naive,” Lee said, turning to her. “A story like this will never get printed in this paper. So do yourself a favor and drop it before you get dropped.”

“Are you saying you’re gonna fire me?” she asked, her tone playful as she tugged on his tie.

“No,” he said, pulling his tie from her hand. “I’m saying you’re new here, and there’s things about this city you don’t know yet.”

“Well then why don’t you enlighten me.”

Lee shook his head and sat back down in his brown leather chair, keeping his eyes on the city’s landscape as he began to squeeze the life out of a stress ball. “There’s a gallery opening Saturday night and the who’s-who of the city will all be there. Pick up your press pass from Mitchell, and grab a photographer to go with you. I’d recommend Lacy, she’s great with the blue bloods.”

“So what I’m hearing you say is keep covering my beat and bring you this mob story once I’ve got more of the info vetted.”

“Piper,” he said in a warning tone.

Piper walked briskly out of the office, waving to Lee as she went. “Great talk, boss!”

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the anatomy of a hurricane

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or

part i: disturbance

The day they tell her the plan, Clarisse thinks it’s a joke. She actually barks out a laugh. But that was before. Before she notices how Chiron is shifting on his back hooves. That’s before she looks over at Annabeth and sees the way she’s staring pointedly at the opposite wall. That was before Athena and Hermes shimmer into the Big House.

She’s not laughing anymore.

Annabeth’s got this almost manic look in her eyes, and she’s gesticulating wildly about how ‘this is the only way’ and ‘it actually gives us a fighting chance.’ How ‘my mother is right,’ and ‘we’d be saving so many lives.’

But Clarisse knows all of it’s bullshit.

Annabeth may believe every reason she’s spouting about saving campers and preventing an all out war, but that’s not why she’s agreed to do this. She’s agreed because on the off chance everything goes right, she can save them both.

The prophecy will come true in a different way, and no one has to actually die.

Keep reading