Riptide: Chapter One 

July is disability awareness month but a lot of people tend to forget it :/ :/ :/

More than 1/8th of the White Mountain Apache Tribe has tested positive for Covid-19.

They have been hit EXTREMELY hard and I have seen no posts going around talking about it. It is one of the hardest hit places in ARIZONA, a state that already has horribly high case numbers.

They have a Covid relief gofundme. Please donate if you can and spread this if you can't.

gofundme.com

White Mountain Apache Tribe COVID-19 Relief Fund organized by White Mountain Apache Tribe

The White Mountain Apache Tribe COVID-19 relief fund has been… White Mountain Apache Tribe needs your support for White Mountain Apache Trib

Love Me, Won’t You by @ananbeth & @blackjacktheboss

↳ chapter seven

Holding Percy’s hand in public turned out to be something which Annabeth just did not get bored of. Every time his fingers brushed her wrist, her pulse sped up and it took a little bit of time to calm down again. They held hands everywhere; exploring the old town, buying groceries, eating ice cream, walking along the beach, drinking coffee in one of the small cafes on the waterfront. She couldn’t get enough of it, and Percy didn’t seem to be able to either. She kept catching his eye and finding him already smiling dopily at her. A woman who sold them two enormous watermelons at the market told them what a beautiful young couple they were and they both blushed like tomatoes as they lugged the fruits away. “We are a cute couple,” Annabeth said as they carried the watermelons back to the boat.

french recipes: if you’re not making this in paris then what’s the point. fuck you

italian recipes: use the left leg meat of a pig from one of three farms in this specific area of tuscany, or from this day my grandmother will begin manifesting physically in your house

puck it chapter eight

by @bipercabeth and @jasonsmclean

Percy wakes up to the sound of rustling sheets and Annabeth’s ringtone.

//

Jason could lie and say everything is fine, but everyone knows at this point nothing is fine. What good would he be doing if he lies again?

Telling the truth impinges dangerously close to unearthing a labyrinth of secrets, a chest full of lies and betrayals that would surely make the team fall apart.

when are we gonna realize that these change dot org petitions are typically nothing more than performative activism that allows people who are unaffected (usually white people) to do the bare minimum and then pat ourselves on the back for being so involved and doing the right thing and standing up for people?

This is honestly amazing

i was in a thrift shop the other day and they were playing the most unsettling variations of normal christmas music, culminating in this rendition of the 12 days of christmas except it was like 12 guys all singing over each other and going “no!” and interrupting the lyrics with random other phrases until they deadass just started singing 5 golden rings to toto’s africa. can anyone confirm that this is a real song and not that i stroked so hard i astral projected into a universe where everything is somehow worse than it is here

stay down

An AU in which Grover is on the Argo II as protector instead of Hedge, because I say so. He and Percy get to have an actual conversation about the aftereffects of Tartarus + that godawful conversation with Jason.

Percy is tired. That’s what he tells Grover when he asks how he’s doing (and Grover asks often).

I’m just tired.

Saving the world for the fifth summer in a row gets tiring, you know? I’m gonna go nap. Wake me up when I’m on watch.

It’s nothing. Just haven’t been able to sleep. Since the world is ending again.

Everyone else has stopped asking.

It’s not for lack of caring. Percy’s loyalty outweighs his self-deprecation; he can’t think lowly enough of the people around him to claim they don’t care about him. He just makes it easier for them to forget. Indifference is more comfortable than concern. How can Percy explain himself to Jason, Piper, and Leo, who don’t know him; to Frank and Hazel, who admire him; or to Annabeth and Grover, who love him? He tried with Jason after the incident with the poison, and the guy gave him that hard-pressed grimace—lips pulled tight and to the side—before dismissing the topic entirely. Jason paused, perhaps to think, and Percy heard rejection in the silence. It was just like when he set fire to the band room at Goode: Percy was standing with his face sooty and his skin torn apart by debris, looking out at the horror and disbelief on the faces of his peers. So he did with Jason what he did then. He ran.

Maybe Jason truly thought nothing of it. The guy was raised by wolves, after all. He doesn’t seem like the type to sit in his emotions. Maybe the conversation took a turn down a road Jason can’t walk either; maybe he’s a runner, just like Percy.

Tired gets everyone else off his back. Annabeth narrows her eyes with that analytical stare that used to break Percy, but even she can be fooled. That stare worked when his problems were smaller—the weight of the world instead of the weight of himself. After a lifetime of shouldering impossible burdens, the thing that makes his legs shake is getting out of bed in the morning. Just the weight of sixteen years, of five straight summers being a hero. If he lives to see a time where the world doesn’t need a hero—when it doesn’t need Percy—who will he be? Childhood turned to dust alongside the first monster he plunged Riptide into. What story will he write when it comes time to put down the sword and pick up the pen?

PLEASE HEED THE TAGS BEFORE READING 

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