You want to know something wild? If it paid a proper, living wage and didn’t come with a ridiculous 12-hour workday and possibly swing-shift, and had proper breaks, my ideal job would probably be some sort of factory work. Swear to anything you care to name, I did a stint in a factory my dad used to work for one summer and I loved it. The people who were my bosses were friendly and polite, I liked the semi-mindless nature of the work and also that it gave me some decent physical exertion, and my creativity went through the roof that summer! I had to wear hearing and eye protection, a safety helmet, protective gloves, and a high-visibility vest, that was the kind of job it was, and I still enjoyed it so much! I was really sad when the summer was over and I had to leave it. I actually tried to get re-hired as a full-time worker (the program I’d been in was legit just a summer thing for employee’s kids), and I made it through the preliminary application, but then they had us do one of those computer survey/test things that everyone on this site knows are bad and I didn’t make it past that stage. Even though people already working for the company knew me and, if they’d been asked, would have been able to confirm I was a hard worker who would be a good hire. -_-*
Basically, what I’m saying is, there are people out there, people like me, who would actually very much love to be doing factory work. I even liked working the cash register for retail work when I first started doing it - it wasn’t the baseline job that made me quit, it was the pay, the way the customers treated me, and the way upper management treated me (I only had problems with one of our floor managers, and even our store manager was a pretty goof egg, I’m talking corporate). There are people like me who genuinely want to do those ‘low grade’ jobs. It’s not the baseline service that bad, there’s nothing inherently bad about working a cash register or semi-mindless factory work, those jobs only become bad when the pay and treatment you receive for doing them are bad.
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and then ares LIVED
athena had calculated every possible outcome, weighing the options, planning every move down to the second. it still did not account for 40% of the fight. once the gods reached the streets of olympus, there was no knowing how things might turn out. being in charge had been a massive responsibility, but having her father and psuedo-mother at her side, no matter how brief, had made a difference in her confidence.
she wasn’t one for blind faith, but it was the only thing that kept her moving forward.
somehow, freya had become like a lieutenant to her. watching the girl reunite with her mother had brought athena unimaginable joy -- but she still felt responsible for freya, watching over her at every chance she got. that didn’t mean freya wasn’t a worthy companion. she fought fierce as her father, and athena knew that their strategic moves were better because of her.
the two of them had remained at the rear, commanding the other gods where possible and leaving the rest up to chance. but somewhere within the bowels of olympus was the leader, hiding away from the fight, and it was their job to flush him out. athena had a bag strapped over her shoulder full of a god tier tear gas.
poseidon and percy’s earthquakes cleared most of the path, and the rest was up to athena, stabbing her way through monsters with mighty heaves of her spear. it felt like a miracle to reach the main hall, running through the halls, the sound of their feet and heavy breathing muffled by the shouts and rumbling behind them.
they searched the entire first floor and found nothing, not a soul, no traps. the feeling in athena’s stomach was sick, uneasy. something felt wrong. but still, athena pressed on, freya at her side, and they moved onto the lower level first. she ran past empty rooms, silver eyes scanning each crevice. she gave up hope of finding cronus here, when she came to a skittering halt outside the final room.
her heart leapt into her throat, stomach churning with nausea. instinctively, she reached for freya to guard her eyes, but it was too late.
ares hung from his wrists, chains connected to the ceiling above him. his bare chest was covered in a layer of nasty gashes, still oozing golden ichor that dripped to a large puddle on the floor. athena might have believed him to be dead, were it not for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. the worst was his face -- though obscured by shadow, athena could see the damage that had been done. a deep, bloody gash covered one of his eyes, and athena could not tell if there was anything beneath it.
athena rushed forward, gripping her brother’s face in her hands, eyes wide and fearful. “ares... ares, please, wake up.”
silence followed her request, her heart beating in her chest. and then ares shifted, a pained moan escaping his mouth. “w-what?”
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