Can You Recommend Some Really Angsty (like A Slow Burn Kinda) Percabeth Fics?? Like The Ones With Two

the best thing that we can do right now to fight for abortion rights is donating to your local abortion fund, especially in states with “trigger laws” or laws that will immediately take harsh measures to shut down abortion rights as soon as roe is overturned. If you don’t know your local abortion fund or states with trigger laws, here’s one in Texas, one in Louisiana, one in Georgia, one in West Virginia and one in Mississippi (all states with such “trigger laws”). There’s so many more beyond the handful i just listed here but times like these are the time to donate and support the incredible work that these organizations do for their communities. 

Here it is: Best stuff first

Extremely handy if you follow a lot of people and hate missing anything good. 

Best Stuff First moves the best stuff on your dashboard—mhm!—right up to the top. 

It’s rolling out this week on iOS and Android, and comes with this Help Center article.  

Thanks! ✌️

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.”

continue on ao3

percabeth + in the storm?? if u want to ofc💞💞💞

It’s an innocent thing, dancing in the rain. At a certain point you resign yourself to being soaked to the bone, and you take this moment to turn your face to the grey sky, to dance in the face of a force of nature. 

Percy and Annabeth are caught in such a storm on their way to Annabeth’s dorm. Initially they attempt to wait it out at Sally’s, but between Annabeth’s strict curfew and Percy’s water powers, the usual excuses to stay in for the night don’t hold up for long. 

He walks her back with their fingers laced and wrists crossed as always, but it serves more of a purpose now. Raindrops skirt around the couple, or maybe they hit an invisible barrier above them to keep out of the way. It doesn’t matter. What matters is the way the storm clouds reflect in Annabeth’s eyes. 

She’s several minutes into a rant about columns and arches that Percy lost track of after ten seconds, but he tries to keep up, to find something to quote back to her when she ends up repeating herself. Her face will soften, she’ll bite her bottom lip the way she does when she’s flustered, and Percy’s brain turning to mush from the mental gymnastics necessary to keep up with her will be worth it. 

Ideally, he could do that now. But she’s just so radiant even in a gloomy city; the sun has abandoned New York for the time being, but Annabeth is bright enough to light it all up. 

Unable to stop himself, Percy tugs on her hand and pulls her to him, interrupting her rant with a kiss. Terrible manners, but judging by the content hum in the back of Annabeth’s throat, she’ll forgive him. 

Annabeth pulls Percy closer, pressing up on her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck. She always does this after she gets passionate about something, even when Percy has the self-control to watch her without interrupting. When he asked, she said it was the way he looked at her. That was the extent of her explanation, but Percy has seen the way people look at beautiful things: all softness, slack jaw, and twinkling eyes. It’s hard to imagine himself looking at her with anything less. 

Rain is the last thing on Percy’s mind when he’s got Annabeth so close—he swears that girl does things to his brain. All at once, his shield fails and cold rain seeps into their clothes. 

Annabeth yelps and jumps back, then turns to Percy with a glare that is somehow both endeared and murderous. Like any sane person, he bolts. 

She takes off after him as he sprints in the direction of her dorm. Water pelts Percy’s face, rejuvenating him until his stride overtakes Annabeth’s, much to her fury. He’s able to plant himself in the concrete and catch her, using her momentum to throw her over his shoulder in victory. 

She nearly takes his eye out with a flailing shoe, so he settles for putting her down long enough to tug her close again and to splash in the puddles for some ridiculous dance. This time she’s all endearment; joy splits her face in a grin as water falls into her eyes, her gaze fixed on Percy. 

They dance in the rain like fools for the whole block to see. People holed up in their apartments might scoff at the idiots in love on the sidewalk below, but they don’t know the joy of dancing in the rain. Carefree moments don’t come so easily to Percy and Annabeth, two people who care so deeply. They have to take these moments as they come. 

It’s an innocent thing, falling in love. At a certain point you resign yourself to being soaked to the bone, and you take this moment to turn your face to the grey sky, to dance in the face of a force of nature. 

know your rights and don’t be afraid to share your experience

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!”

continue on ao3

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.

Storyville - Defying the Cutting Season

Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) has been illegal in Tanzania since 1998. But every year thousands of families still plan to have their daughters cut, an ordeal that could cost them their lives. The ‘Cutting Season’ takes place during the December school holidays.

During this time hundreds of girls are saved from FGM by the police, the government and the work of the Safe House. It is run by Rhobi Samwelly, who was herself a victim of FGM, and now, not only does she valiantly run the safe house but she also works with the local police to rescue and protect girls at risk while arresting the parents and cutters.

But they have a tough and dangerous job and old customs die hard. Men believe that girls must be cut to reduce promiscuity and cut girls command twice the bride price in cows as uncut girls. Girls like Rosie, just 12 years old, have had to make the most difficult choices of their young lives - run away from home, not knowing if they will ever see their families again, or submit to female genital mutilation and child marriage.

These brave and courageous young girls are fighting against a tradition that goes back thousands of years. They are standing up for their human rights and fighting for change in their community.

The Safe House is the one safe place they can escape to.

May 18, 2020. João Pedro Mattos Pinto was murdered by the police IN HIS HOME in São Gonçalo, Rio de Janeiro. he was only 14. when the police murdered him, he was PLAYING in his own backyard. his house now has at least 72 bullet holes in it’s walls. and his mom’s heart has one giant hole, that one type that is impossible to be ever filled again.

this happened exactly a week before George Floyd’s murder. João Pedro was black too.

it doesn’t matter where you from. all cops are bastards. all of them. brazillian ones. us cops. even the ones from your country. all of them serve the same racist purposes. 

João Pedro should be remembered. his life and Floyd’s matter so much.

so much respect for the protesters in Minneapolis.