I’m Going To Reblog Burdge

I need this

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mybroadband.co.za

Zimbabwe orders Internet shutdown

When the Zimbabwean government ordered internet service providers to shutter parts of the web in an effort to curb anti-government protests,

I’m only able to send this because I’ve got a VPN but yesterday even VPNS were blocked today if you don’t have a VPN you can’t read news or use WhatsApp or Facebook or any social media they’ve only put the Internet on to avoid human rights issues you have a huge audience gaud, an audience who should care.

I was walking behind a woman for five minutes and she got catcalled three times.

I usually walk everywhere with my headphones on, but I had them in my bag and I was reading a book on my phone instead (I do that when the foot traffic is light).  A young Latina was coming down the street as I was coming up the avenue, and when she got to the corner a few paces ahead of me, she turned to walk in the direction I was going.  We were traveling at the same speed, but since she was like ten paces ahead and it’s bright outside in the middle of the day, I didn’t feel the need to fall back or slow down to give her more space. At night, I try not to walk too close behind women just so they don’t feel like I’m any sort of threat.

We got to a corner and this dude standing outside of the bodega was like, “Slow down mama where you goin? You don’t have to work today, you can stop and speak.”

She didn’t break her stride. “I’m going to the gym.”  The Walk sign was on, so I didn’t break mine either.  

A block later, a young guy was coming toward us on the sidewalk riding his bike.

“What’s good shorty?”

She didn’t respond.

“Well you was lookin, you can say something, stuck up bitch.”

We kept walking.

In the middle of the next block, an older man was walking toward us and he put on a friendly smile and said, “Smile young lady, it’s a beautiful day.”

I don’t know if she smiled, but we kept walking. She went into the gym and I kept on toward where I was going thinking about how that was just five minutes of her day.  How many other blocks of five minutes are just like that?  

Only one of them was truly aggressive. The other two guys seemed nice enough and it felt more like a pleasant compliment. It felt like the kind of thing a guy says who argues with women online about catcalling. “We’re not all bad guys. We can’t even compliment women? We can’t even say something nice?”

No.  You really can’t.  I was annoyed in that five minutes and I just happened to be walking behind her with no headphones on.  Can you imagine those five minutes over and over every day of your life?  Nobody wants to be spoken to by strangers day in and day out forever regardless of what they’re saying.  

So no.  You can’t say anything. The quality of your life has not decreased because you aren’t allowed to say nice things to strange women on the sidewalk, but your silence greatly increases the quality of hers.  So just be quiet, and let her go where she’s going.

mob au: research 

Jason hates to admit it, but the city library is, hands down, the most beautiful building in the whole city. It’s three stories of white marble and reflective glass surrounded by lush green gardens that have the local botanical society swooning year round, create an oasis in the heart of the downtown district that cannot be beaten. Olive trees line the long walk way up to a series of grand walnut doors hand carved with depictions of wildlife that look so real they might jump right off the wood, giving anyone who approaches the air of a grand entrance.

Leaning against one of the building’s imposing Doric columns, Jason looks out at all the people enjoying the lawn, having picnics and playing with their dogs and he can’t help but remember Luke’s words about Annabeth not being the villain he thinks she is. Watching the people of his city that he has taken an oath to protect, the thought that maybe he’s right begins to creep in, but before it can settle, his shoulder is being bumped, pulling him from his thoughts. He frowns and looks up to find his partner, Reyna, donning her signature brown leather jacket over a royal purple blouse.

“Took you long enough,” Jason teases.

“Some of us actually have a life, Grace,” she says with another nudge.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, let’s do this.”

He leads the way into the library, stopping abruptly to read a golden plaque that marks the main entrance:

This library could not have been possible without the generous support of local businesswoman, Athena Pallas. The passion Ms. Pallas has for Greek architecture and the pursuit of knowledge were the foundations of this project and this city will forever be in her debt.

Reyna scoffs, “Businesswoman is quite the generous title.”

“No kidding,” Jason adds.

The detectives enter the library and neither of them can help but be awed by the interior’s beauty. The slight gleam of the gold leaf crown molding catches their eyes, their eyeline following down the wall to the bookcases with delicate owl carvings and the olive leaf patterned carpeting.

“At least she had taste,” Jason says in a low voice.

Reyna shrugs. “I prefer a Roman aesthetic myself, but this isn’t too bad if you like the Greek thing.”

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so this is love

percabeth | cinderella au | 12k

“I hope to see you again, Miss…”

It could be a title, but the look he gives her indicates it’s an invitation to give her name. Annabeth plays dumb, knowing he’ll see through it.

Her chest rises with her breath. “And I you, Percy.”

He grins at the promise and the sound of his name, his eyes darting to her mouth as he turns his horse. Even as he rides away, he casts a glance at Annabeth over his shoulder. Laughter rings in the air as clear as the summer sky. It’s a charming sound, Annabeth thinks. She can’t wait to hear it again.

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mob au | the beginning in the end: epilogue 

Mr. Hermes looks as good as he did when Annabeth first met him at seven years old. His hair is still slicked back, though now it is much more salt than it is pepper, and his well tailored Italian suits have been replaced with a wardrobe of colorful tracksuits, but the man beneath the clothes is the same.

Today, as he sits on the back patio with Annabeth, he dons a deep red tracksuit with a pair of white tennis shoes that have a winged design on the outside. Annabeth doesn’t think he could be any cuter if he tried.

“How long has it been, my dear?” Mr. Hermes asks as he takes a sip of his midday martini.

“Six months, I think,” Annabeth answers, her face scrunching as she tries to remember. “It must have been Caroline’s birthday party.”

Mr. Hermes chuckles. “You know, she hustled me out of five hundred dollars that day.”

“Stop.”

“I’ve never been so damn proud in my life,” he says with a sweeping hand gesture. “She’s just like Connor. God bless her mother.”

“Luckily, Katie is an actual saint. Though how she puts up with Travis I will never understand.”

“I’m sure he has the same questions about how Percy puts up with you,” he says with a wink.

Annabeth nods, laughing into her drink. “Oh, I have those same questions, believe me.”

The older man takes another sip of his drink, and slides an olive off its mini sword toothpick (Percy insisted those be the only type of toothpicks on the premises). “So what’s going on, kid? What do you need from a washed up old man?”

“You are not washed up,” she asserts, and sets her drink down. “I actually was hoping I could ask you for some parenting advice.”

“I think my boys would tell you I’m not the one you should be coming to for parenting help. I was barely around for my kids.”

“But you’re around now.”

“Because they let me be,” he says calmly. “Not because I deserve it.”

“Ruthie wants me to train her to take over the business,” Annabeth blurts, the panic evident in her entire demeanor.

“Ah,” Mr. Hermes says with a nod. He takes another sip of his martini. “And that scares the hell out of you.”

“Obviously.”

He laughs again, like Annabeth just told a silly pun instead of some life trajectory altering news. “Well, I’m not sure what to tell you, kid. This is her fate just as much as it was yours.”

Annabeth shakes her head, unable to accept his words. “I refuse to accept that running this business is her fate. It might have been mine, but it’s not hers. I won’t let it be.”

Mr. Hermes sits up in his chair, and leans forward to rest his arms on the table. “Why do you kids always think fate is equal to an outcome?”

“Because… that’s what it is.”

He shakes his head now, dismissing her out of hand. “Fate is about choice.”

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do yall ever just….. remember TLO and weep

The mashup you never thought would work