Famous Last Words That Make Me Go Feral And Tender At The Same Time

On twitter I’m seeing dozens of threads from Black activists warning people against burnout, giving all sorts of useful tips about preventing and managing it for the sake of a long-term, sustainable effort.

On tumblr I’m seeing a hell of a lot of young white kids yelling at anyone who actually follows those steps, and acting like burnout is a moral falling rather than a well-proven psychological phenomenon.

Be careful who you get your information from. Don’t let guilt lead you to make choices that will harm both you and the movement.

the Guardian

WWII: eighty years on, the world is still haunted by a catastrophe foretold | Peter Beaumont

Shock greeted the news that German tanks had rolled into Poland on September 1, 1939. But the slaughter of the continent’s Jews that was to

also see: from a 1937 documentation of gassing/torture methods of the Dacchan concentration camp in Nazi Germany reported emulations of America's "jail holocaust". this was flagellated onto El Paso immigrants who were bathed with kerosene and sprayed with vinegar due to their "racial impurity" much to the rise of eugenicism in the US, parallelistic to of how one of the key annihilators of the Jewish people in Nazi Germany was this chemical.

Republicans outpacing Democrats in early voting in key states, NBC News finds

The data suggests enthusiasm among early GOP voters that could put a dent in Democratic hopes for a "blue wave" in the midterms.

DO  NOT  RELY ON A BLUE WAVE.

GO FUCKING VOTE!!!!!!!!!

“you didn’t need to do this” + any ship !!!

Percy tests the weight of the present Annabeth has just pressed into his hands, rolling it over to see if it’ll give any indication of what’s inside. Whatever it is must be held down as thoroughly as the wrapping paper, which is more scotch tape than decoration. A fresh breeze blows off the Atlantic, rustling the stray curls that hang from Annabeth’s twin braids. August smiles kindly on her as it always has, with sunlight dripping down the contours of her body. Summer doesn’t shine on anyone else quite as gracefully. 

Annabeth’s hands fly out to cover Percy’s as he raises the present to his ear. “Maybe don’t shake it.” 

Percy freezes, noting the way she worries her bottom lip. He’s known her to be many things over the years, and nervous isn’t often one of them. “Annabeth. What did you get me?” 

“Open it and see for yourself.” 

When the paper and tape give away, Percy holds a cardboard box with a picture of his dream camera on the front—a dream in the truest sense of the word, given that he’s never said it aloud due to the long odds of ever get his hands on one. 

He must be silent for too long, because Annabeth shifts on the towel next to him. There’s still time for her to break composure and laugh, to tell him this is all a prank and tear open the box to reveal a gag gift on the inside. 

Instead she says, “I don’t know much about photography, but my dad has some connections through his university and they said this was the best for land and sea, so it won’t fry like your old one.” The words come out hastily, stumbling over each other in their rush to escape. 

Salt air whistles in Percy’s empty lungs. He doesn’t have the words for this—for her. “You didn’t need to do this.” 

That straightens her spine with a flash of defiance that melts away the nervousness, igniting the righteous spark in her eyes that Percy loves. “No, but I wanted to.” She jabs her thumb between his furrowed brows. “Don’t give me that guilty look. It’s my money and I’m going to spend it on my favorite person if I want to, especially on his birthday.” 

“You know I can’t accept this.” 

“Would you buy it for yourself?” 

“Annabeth.” 

“Answer the question.” 

“Yeah in like, five years. But I can’t—” 

“Nope.” Annabeth scrambles upright, spraying Percy with sand. “You’ll have to catch me first.” 

With that, she dashes down the shore without looking back. In a microcosm of the entire decade of their friendship, Percy grumbles and gives chase. The beach is empty, giving him peace of mind as he burrows the camera in their clothes before taking off. 

Annabeth is too many strides ahead, her braids taunting Percy each time her feet strike the sand. Time moves slowly, suspended in the afterglow of a summer spent just like this, running after the girl too golden to be true. 

Just as Percy starts to think it’s a hopeless pursuit, she veers into the water, stumbling through the waves and diving as soon as it’s deep enough. Percy plunges in after her, never more grateful for his years on the high school swim team than when he wraps an arm around her waist after a few strokes. 

They’re still close enough to shore to stand, the water rising to their heaving chests which are mere inches apart. It’s just deep enough for Annabeth to struggle to keep her lips above the swell of the waves, so Percy keeps holding on. Aside from that, he doesn’t know what to do. He wasn’t expecting to catch her, let alone hold her. 

Annabeth tilts her head westward. “Sun’s setting,” she notes, her ribcage swelling under Percy’s palms. “It’d make a good picture.” 

Percy doesn’t have to look to know she’s right, though the shot he’s thinking is more portrait than landscape. The sky is alight with a palette of orange, pink, and yellow cast on the clouds, like the only grey thing allowed in this photograph are Annabeth’s eyes. Her face is smooth, an uninterrupted line of shadow cupping her cheekbone down to her neck. There is just as much to be said for her shadows as for her light—it’s the contrast with each that makes the other. 

A particularly tall wave slaps their shoulders in an attempt to pull Annabeth away. Percy adjusts his grip and tugs her closer, one hand on the back of her thigh as her legs hook around his waist. Neither of them misses their simultaneous sharp inhale; they just can’t make out what it means. 

Annabeth’s hands trace a brave path along Percy’s shoulders, collecting droplets of water with a light touch. “You can pay me back for it. One dollar a month.” 

“Annabeth...that’s—” 

“The rest of our lives? I know.” She runs her fingertips along the back of his neck with a smile glimmering like the sunlight on the waves. “That’s how long I’m hoping to keep you for.” 

They come together slowly, creeping together as the sun kisses the horizon with the same soft touch. Waves part as they pass, looking to flow through space between them that no longer exists. Every inch of skin presses together, held in place by desperate hands dimpling the soft flesh underneath. All their lives have lead them toward this moment in one consistent arc across the sky, traveling west to finally collide. 

Percy pulls back to take a mental snapshot, afraid of losing the memory of the the rise and fall of Annabeth’s chest against his and all the movement a camera cannot capture. Language does not leave much space in the brain for memory, and so it is the first thing to go as he takes her in.

“Perce,” she says, colored with a mix of vulnerable and smug only she could wear well. “I’m gonna need you to say something.” 

“They’re all going to be of you.” 

“What?” 

“The pictures.” One of his hands leaves her thigh to flirt with the edge of her jaw, the ridge that divides light and shadow. He watches her through the new lens of new love and presses his smile into her skin with the same delicate touch of August. “They’re all going to be of you.” 

riptide: chapter one 

Annabeth rolls her eyes, as per usual. “Here we go with the Mr. New York vibes. I get it, I’m from Virginia and don’t understand the city or whatever.”

“Get over yourself, Chase. All I’m saying is since that bank robbery last month, things have felt weird. Like something big is coming.”

“Could this big thing happen next Tuesday so I have more time to prepare for this job interview? Cause that would be great.”

“Oh, please! You’re gonna do so good in that interview they’re gonna beg you to start architecting on the spot. Trust me.”

“Can you even spell architecting?” Annabeth asks.

“Can you?”

“Fair enough.”

Feel bad asking about another but "I called you at 2am because I need you" (48) would be great!

In many ways, dating Percy feels like skipping straight to the good part of love. There are no awkward icebreakers, no friends anxiously checking Annabeth's location during dates, no innocent questions about family and no strained explanations in response. They have slipped into intimacy like tailored clothes, something they wore for ages before making the perfect fit.

Like now, when Annabeth dials his number on instinct, knowing he's out with friends but will pick up on the second ring.

One.

Two--

"Hey, baby," he says, and the warmth of his voice undoes the way Annabeth shrinks at the joyous chatter in the background. "It's late."

He's having fun, that nagging voice says. Don't ruin his night. Let him be.

"I miss you." A lifeline. I can't say it, but I'll say it if you see it.

"I miss you too, always." She can hear him thinking, practically see the pucker between his brows at the hitch in her breath. "Want me to come over? Things are winding down here."

Annabeth squeezes her eyes shut, dropping the tissues back on the couch and pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders. "Please."

"Do I need to stop for supplies?"

"Just you."

Percy shows up sooner than should be humanly possible, his forehead glistening faintly with sweat from the brisk walk to Annabeth's apartment. He didn't wait for the train.

Thick summer air follows him in the door, pausing in the hallway with him when his eyes find Annabeth, like even the air is waiting to see how he can make this better. His eyes flit to the tissues, the throw blanket, the red splotches on Annabeth's face.

He moves toward her, tucking the throw blanket around her until she's an emotionally compromised burrito easing into the comfort of his lap, warmth melting through her as his hands pull back her hair.

Annabeth closes her eyes as Percy kisses her forehead, murmuring an "I love you," that settles over her with a kind weight, the firm hand of a lover, the comfort of a cloak. And the bad night is still a bad night, but now it is so much lighter. Oh, it is everything to be held. How human to want what you can't ask for. How holy to receive it anyway.

some iconic dialogue that sounds like its from the great canon of literature but are actually from memes

I will face God and walk backwards into Hell

“I’ll do whatever you want” “then perish”

I have been through hell and come out singing

feel free to add more!

If ya have any percabeth fics i would love to read em been lookin for some good Percy jackson fics

here’s an (incomplete) list of my percabeth (and other pjo) fic: 

fake dating au

percabeth planning their wedding

More Than Friends (mortal meets)

patching up a wound

shut doors (sick!annabeth)

shut doors part 2

post-tlo; one falls asleep with the other’s head in their lap

slow dancing

taking a bath together

High Tide (percy goes home)

Baby Steps (sally takes care of her son)

happy (sally & percy celebrate his birthday)

“we’re going to the ball.” (percabeth…. goes to a ball.)

percabeth adopts a puppy

kim possible au

You can also read a selection of Percabeth fic on my ffnet. most of the ones on ffnet are kind of old, though, so quality is not guaranteed. there’s probably a couple more on tumblr i haven’t linked (my blog is old and my tagging system changed)

if you also want i do have percabeth fic ideas that i kinda chip away at every now and then that i’d be more than happy to talk about! there’s also a pjo zine piece that i might be posting soon as well, and i’m working on an old singer!percy/percabeth au. 

couple other writers you might want to check out: @percyyoulittleshit & @bananannabeth are a great place to start lookin, both their own writing as well as reblogs. also try the percabeth tag and pjo fanfic tag if you’re looking for more - i always try to keep my blog organized haha.

i’ll go anywhere with you 

roadtrip au | oneshot | the playlist 

thank you for 2k! here’s the most self indulgent thing i’ve ever written

Annabeth slouches in the passenger side of Percy’s Jeep, tossing her plastic bag and kicking her shoes to the floor. Her GPS tells her they’re just outside the Pennsylvania/Ohio border, which Annabeth could tell anyone from the breeze blowing through the open windows from Lake Erie, encouraging her to kick her feet up on the warm dash. The sun on her toes and the open road beyond the parking lot make up for the smell of gasoline and sound of gruff voices on the other side of the pump.

She rolls the windows up to savor the scent of Percy’s car—which is somehow immaculately clean while distinctly that of a college kid. The seats are a bit sticky for her thighs in this heat, but there isn’t a stain on the upholstery in sight. The back is just as tidy, though it’s obscured by the heaps of supplies Annabeth packed in case of emergency. Or fun. Or extreme stupidity, which, really, the two of them going cross-country in a two-seater is bound to entail. She gives them until they reach the Midwest, tops. Probably sooner.

While Annabeth stares at her phone to figure out the best way to avoid traffic, the driver’s door opens, bringing the sound of a rustling bag and the slight jostle of the suspension when Percy hoists himself into his seat.

if you’re taking the time to read this, you can take the time to click/spread/donate to the following links in support of the black lives matter movement: x x x x 

read on AO3