Planning Their Next Move

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percabeth | godswap au | 1500 words | commissioned by @zacharandom

Anger is a comfortable emotion, one that greets Annabeth at the door like an old friend—somewhere to retreat when the outside world gets too loud. Being a daughter of Ares has given her many strengths, and sometimes Annabeth feels a little too strong. Some days her heart beats like a war drum. She can feel the pressure in her veins, her pulse hammering through her body like a soldier’s march. 

Everyone knows—Annabeth, Percy, the camp, Clarisse. And they, for the most part, know to stay away. Annabeth busies herself with a punching bag or dummy in the arena for a day and comes out her usual self, no sign of her father’s blessing. 

But that takes time she doesn’t have. 

Redesigning Olympus takes its toll. After the Titan War, Annabeth is determined to make the city of the gods a fortress. No one—Titan, God, or otherwise—will be able to turn her work to rubble. She and it will live on for millennia. 

Annabeth’s spends her days locked in Cabin 5, muscles stiff as she sketches, calculates, erases, recalculates. Food appears next to her a few times a day—courtesy of Percy, no doubt. 

Silena was the only one of her siblings who could get close when these moods struck. The rest of the Ares cabin want a wide berth during these times, so that’s what they give Annabeth. She tells herself it’s what she wants too, but that doesn’t stop her from missing Silena’s steady hand on her shoulder telling her to take a break. 

Annabeth shrugs off her emotions and continues her work. 

Footsteps register from Annabeth’s right, which she chalks up to Percy coming with lunch. However, when Annabeth glances at the clock on her desk, she finds the light stings her eyes as 6:30 PM glares back at her. 

She looks over her shoulder to find Percy, but not as expected. He stands off to the side, his cotton shirt tight across his broad shoulders, sleeves straining when he crosses his arms. Add in that he’s wearing gym shorts instead of those god-awful cargo pants she’ll never admit she loves… it’s a sight she’d lean back to admire on a different day. 

She turns on her desk lamp and picks up her pencil. 

“Annabeth, take a break.” 

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Jealous percy drabble? Yes please if you could that'd be great!!

Percy loves spending time with his friends—he really does—but time and experience have shown him that the definition of quality time varies wildly within their group.

For Percy, quality time is laid back: a nighttime drive without a destination, full belly laughs filling the living room, sandy toes washed clean after that first step into the ocean. After all they’ve had to endure, it’s these pockets of serenity that he loves most.

Piper is a different story. She sees their time spent in boarding schools and on quests as missed opportunities. After all these years fighting for their lives, Piper argues that they’ve hardly had a chance to live them.

College separates the seven of them to different universities on different coasts, so moments where they’re all in the same place are few and far between. When those moments come, Piper’s excited energy resonates with the entire group, and they end up doing something wild each time.

Except they is a loose term. They is a group that consists of Piper, Leo, Annabeth, Hazel, and Frank (in that order) while Percy and Jason act as the designated sober group parents.

“I guess we did this to ourselves, huh?” Percy nudges Jason with his shoulder while waiting on their girlfriends’ drinks.

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Hey, I don’t acknowledge a lot of things on this blog Ik, but this is truly important and something which not many people will hear about cause my country is fucked up. So, hear me out

I’m Mexican and I live in in the state where most feminicides (people killing women just because they are women) occur. Mexico City which is couple kilometres from here is the second one and so on. Mexico’s feminicide rate is worrying to a point you might think authorities are doing something, right? Well, no.

Let me tell you about some atrocious feminicides:

Minerva, she was one of the first victims, if not, the first of this year. She visited some family to celebrate New Year with a guy named Fernando. When they returned to her house late at night, she was stabbed by Fernando, killing her and leaving her on the floor. She was 42

María del Pilar, she lived in Guanajuato (one of the many states we have) with her boyfriend; they had gone out to buy some groceries. She had received threats from her ex boyfriend. She was buying bread and milk when one guy on a motorcycle came and started shooting at the air. She ran and hid in a store but the guy found her and when she tried to escape, he shot her in the face and ran away.

Isabel Cabanillas de la Torre, she was 26, had a four years old kid, she was an entrepreneur and an artist. She was part of a campaign which focused on defending women’s rights and the fight against feminicides. Her friends and family shared on social media she was missing and two days later, she was found dead in the center of Ciudad Juarez, in some place known as “El corredor seguro para mujeres”. She was shot dead in the chest various times.

Ingrid Escamilla, she was 25 and after fighting with her boyfriend, he decided that the best thing to do was killing her. He stabbed her and skinned her from the head to the knees, he removed several organs and threw them in the toilet and the sewer. The media not having any empathy, published the photos of what had happened, you could literally see Ingrid’s skinned body on first page everywhere.

10 women are murdered in Mexico every day. We want to live, we want to laugh, we want to be safe and the people we should trust, the government is doing nothing!

Our president is...I don’t have words to describe him. But things he has done? 0. Women had told him the situation Mexico is going through, they had asked for help and he has minimised the problem saying we make a big deal out of what’s actually happening. Mexico is a big joke to the rest of the world right now because he’s selling the presidential plane...Wait, but he’s not, the plane’s on lottery tickets. Yeah, you could win the fucking plane if you had the luck.

So, we as women decided that no one but us were going to do something. Since yesterday we’ve been doing stuff.

On March 7, women across the country did a human chain, protesting against what has happened.

Today, we’re gonna march for kilometres protesting about all the women we lost along the way. The one that have disappeared, the ones we didn’t know anything of. For the ones we’re still waiting to come home. For the ones we know are dead but not gone nor forgotten. But guess what? There has been threats, people wanting to hurt women with acid and some awful things.

And on March 9, we’re disappearing. We’re not going out, we’re staying home pretending we’re gone. This movement is called “Un día sin mujeres” (A day without women). So people can see the impact it would have if all of us just disappear.

We have manifested before, maybe you saw the pictures of monuments which were “vandalised”.

But all of that happened after women went to the police and only received harassment. All of that happened when our voices were not heard. And peace stopped being the right way to manifest.

Cause maybe you have seen Mexico after protests, because those are the only pictures anyone has. But, have you seen the ones where there is no “violence” against monuments?

The first photo was taken in Mexico City, the fountain known as “Diana Cazadora” (Huntress Diana) surprised everyone with red waters.

The second one is known as Minerva. A fountain in Jalisco where of course, many women are killed and disappeared everyday.

They water turned red for all the blood which has been shed. And few hours later, they were “fixed”

Or, let me show you an altar made also in Mexico City.

I was there and not even one reporter took photos. It was an altar for some of the women. And the second one? It is one of the most emblematic monuments in the city. “Ángel de la independencia” (Independence Angel). The altar was there and why is it like that? Since one of the protest it’s been like that under “reparations” truth be told, it’s the government’s way to tell us that we can’t do anything to monuments for they are covered and protected.

Yup, our government protects monuments way more than the citizens.

Please, take a moment to read this.

28, gimmie your hand

sequel to this photographer percy au 

When Percy took pictures of Annabeth before they started dating, she could never tell if he was looking at her through the lens of artist or lover. Now, she’s beginning to think it’s the same thing. There’s a delicacy to his gaze, as though his smile is meant both for Annabeth and the light shining on her. His taking a picture so often looks like gratitude, like the fear of forgetting his luck in a moment so blissful. And he immortalizes her on film, takes his care to capture and develop her image. It is no small thing, being a muse. 

She envies it, sometimes. Percy gets to show Annabeth and the world exactly how he sees her, while she is left with her words, which can only ever fall short. He captures time and frames her suspended in the golden glow of sunlight, he makes her laugh moments before the flash, and he does not believe in bad photos. He photographs her bedhead, her soft stomach, her bent posture, and her chewed fingernails. He photographs her genuine laugh, her pouted lips, her pensive expression, her golden curls. Annabeth has never liked the sharp upturn of her nose, but Percy photographs her profile with such care that she can’t help but soften to it.

They’re at the beach for what feels like the last warm day of September. The Atlantic ocean is too vast to be swayed by the local weather, so they stay on the sand until they need to cool off. Percy’s camera is buried in their beach bag as they soak up the day—not every moment needs to be captured. Sometimes happiness demands to be fleeting. Nostalgia wouldn’t be as powerful if Annabeth could remember exactly how many freckles the sun kissed into Percy’s cheeks today. The longing comes from the fear of forgetting.

Sunset brings a gentle chill and sends Annabeth into Percy’s side. He pulls her bare legs into his lap and rubs his hands up and down them. It only works for a few seconds, but she’ll take any excuse to keep his hands on her. (She thinks he will too.)

One of the best parts about being in a relationship, she thinks, is not needing an excuse. There is an agreement between them that says you can touch me. I am trusting you to handle me at my best and my worst. I think that’s love. Please touch me.

Annabeth shifts her weight and straddles her boyfriend in a way that’s a bit indecent for a public beach, but the closest people are specs on the horizon and Percy is leaning back on his palms, his face to the orange sky and throat exposed. His skin looks golden, dripping in sunlight like honey, and Annabeth watches his Adam’s apple bob as she tastes. Even his smile is sweet. Annabeth is not an artist, but sometimes loving him makes her rethink that.

“Baby,” he whispers, and Annabeth opens her eyes to him chewing his lip. “You know the last thing I ever want to do is stop making out with my beautiful girlfriend on the beach, but...” He juts his chin to the sun, then to her general face. “I‘ll kick myself if I don’t get this.”

Annabeth pretends to roll her eyes as he lays back on the beach blanket with his camera in hand, but the way he looks at her is too profound for her to do much else. She’s always loved the way he looks at the world, though it wasn’t until recently that she discovered she likes the way he looks at her more. All that wonder, all that love, plus a surety that is so rare on him. There is the boyish boldness that makes her want to strangle and kiss him, plus the sly cockiness that has her leaning toward the former, but that gleam in his eyes cannot compare to this glimmer. His fingers slide along her chin, angling her kindly from  the harsh angle he captures her at.

She chuckles, gestures to his hand. “We wouldn’t get anywhere without this. Piper says I can’t pose for any camera you’re not behind.”

Percy pokes her in the side quickly, snapping a photo when she laughs. “That’s because Piper is a terrible photographer.”

“I’m sure she’d love to hear that.”

“I’m just saying, it’s more than landscapes and lighting. If you’re taking pictures of people, you should try to capture something real. Something human.”

“Her Instagram feed is very focused on humanity.”

She said it to rile him up—passionate Percy is one of her favorite versions of the boy she loves. She’s snuck more than a few photos of her own during a long-winded rant about camera lenses and color editing.

But this passion is quieter than what Annabeth is used to. Honest. Soft. Percy rests the camera on his chest and trails his fingers from Annabeth’s wrist to her elbow, his eyes following the slow migration.

“I don’t always know why you’re looking at me the way you do. I think that’s why I picked up a camera in the first place—my mom looked at me like I was the best thing that ever happened to her, and I was scared that one day she’d come to her senses. I wanted to remember that face before it disappeared.” He doesn’t look at her. Can’t, maybe. “It’s been over a decade, and that look is still there. I guess now I take pictures to try and understand it. Because I don’t— I want—“

Annabeth takes hold of his wrist. It’s then that he looks at her, propped up on an elbow. He breathes.

“You look at me like I’m a good thing.” And he’s opening his mouth like there are more words he wants to say, but they won’t come.

Annabeth kisses him, sweet and soft and a bit desperate. The lens of the camera presses into her chest, and she slides it out of Percy’s grip as she presses a kiss to his nose, his forehead. 

“Lay down for me,” she says. And, at his hesitation. “C’mon, Jackson. It’s hardly the first time I’ve had you on your back.” 

That earns a laugh, which earns the first picture. The camera may be out of Annabeth’s league, but she’s seen Percy use this thing enough to know that the big black button is all she really needs for what she’s trying to do. 

She says, “I love you,” says, “You’re everything to me,” and, “You are so beautiful,” for the sake of his smile. She sits a little lower in his lap and photographs the way his eyes darken, and his hands, still itching for the camera, busy themselves with her thighs. The sun is disappearing quickly, but Percy is glowing with the last of the New York summer. His skin is still damp from the kiss of the Atlantic, and Annabeth thinks that he was born to look like this. Love and light, gentle and summer-warm by the seaside. Percy Jackson summed up in a time, a place, a feeling. 

And Annabeth isn’t great with words, but he needs to hear them. 

“The sun is gonna set,” she leans in, throwing her shadow over his face, and sets the camera down, “and it’s gonna rise, again and again and again, and I am never gonna stop looking at you like this. Even if you never take my picture again.” She plants her hand over his shoulder to lean down. “You’re gonna spend your entire life by my side waiting for it to go away, and one day you’re going to forget to worry. Just like you help me forget to worry.” 

And then he smiles a bit sideways, a dimple pressing into his cheek. “You proposing to me, Chase?” 

She rolls her eyes, but smiles back. “As if you won’t know when I propose.” 

Percy’s hands skim up her back, where the last of the light stretches over the horizon of her skin. “Not if I beat you to it.” 

He pulls her down for a long kiss. When Annabeth comes up, it’s nearly dark out. 

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to photograph your own wedding.” 

“Yeah, well.” And he’s arching up for one last kiss before they have to leave, a comma on the page of this long day turned night. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” 

The Horse and the Gun

“Men come West for one of two reasons, they’re looking for something, or something is looking for them. Which are you?”…

…“Looking for something,” he says.

The Sheriff tilts her head back, looking down her nose at him. “What’s your name.”

“Percy Jackson.”

“Well Mister Jackson, you’re full of shit…”

A percabeth western au

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

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 

read on AO3

If you love Disney, its parks, its media, and its merch, listen up.

So I work for Disneyland, and we are talking about striking very soon. So soon, in fact, that we've been hosting rallies just outside of the parks. Yesterday was the 69th birthday of Disneyland Anaheim... it was also a monumental rally.

I haven't seen anyone on tumblr talking about the impending strikes against Disney. Not even going through the Disney tags or searching tumblr for "Disneyland Strike."

Let's talk about why we're striking:

Cost of living in the immediate SoCal region is nearly 2x as much as we are getting paid.

Cast members that have worked for the company for long periods of time are still paid as mucha s new hires.

Disney has showed up to union negotiations with insulting offers, including at 25 cent raise. Most cast members make $19.90

Disney rarely schedules you. In some areas and departments, you are fighting with your fellow cast members for hours. I have heard of cast members who are only scheduled for 1 4-hour shift per week. Many of those cast members have upwards of an hour commute to and from work.

Disney Admin has told attractions castmembers [so: rides, rollercoasters, and anything fun you get to do and see at the parks] that we are losing them money, which is why they refuse to schedule us and pay us. In the words of my partner, who also works at the parks, Disney without attractions is an over glorified mall and a food court. Disney needs us, and they know it, but they do not respect us.

Disney has an unfair attendance policy. It can be very difficult to get a needed day off, even when it has been requested weeks or months in advance. When you do take a day off [with-out accrued sick or vacation time] it counts against you. You can have 3 a month, 6 in 90 days, 9 in 180 days, or 12 in a year. How do you accrue sick/vacation? Hours worked, which can be impossible with the scheduling practices mentioned above. (Most cast members trade shifts among themselves to get around this.)

Cast members feel unsafe and unsupported in the parks. Many cast members have felt threatened by entitled guests upset that they are following policy. Disney Leads and Managers have to say yes to these guests and make things happen, though. [Which only makes this behavior worse and more dangerous for cast members who are only doing their job.]

Cast members also report feeling threatened, or even being literally threatened, by management in the parks. Especially cast members who have a second job. Especially cast members who know their rights.

Further, cast members work in hazardous conditions with pay that does not reflect that. Many cast members report losses of hearing, sore throats, and severe back and shoulder pain. Cast members are also exposed to infectious diseases at a much higher rate.

https://www.sfgate.com/disneyland/article/union-button-contract-dispute-19515296.php?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR2u5o_mvU3i6jpIyHxBUZpEzD2GRSKFf5Pem4uRXqa6vKWDgZuffvINd1g_aem_AA1L0fI1phugJIluYMcDSw

Starbucks funded the police in Atlanta so here’s their recipes