Disclaimer: The usual I don't own spiel, and a side warning of I have absolutely no idea why I wrote this. Might as well warn you that this will definitely deviate from canon a lot. If you don't like that, please just go back reading the books or find a suitable AU. The whole point of this was to chart how Percy would react to the whole thing if he was the son of a Mafia Donna and somewhat experienced in other things...yeah.
Oh, by the way, this is sort of like in its trial stages. I can't guarantee that I'll update this the way people would prefer. I'm just not into Percy Jackson as I used to be. Add to that I can't even remember what happened in the first few books...Yeah.
Parings: None so far, but I don't prefer Percabeth. I can appreciate it on a good day, but I don't personally like writing anything about the ship.
Warnings:Language, matured-Percy (sort of.), the general chaos that is the Mafia...you get the idea. I'm writing the characters the way I see them, so if you spot any less than canon portrayals, that's most likely me forgetting what they actually are and filling that blank with headcanons.
Summary: My name is Percy Jackson. All I want is to be left alone, because life as an on-the-run-heir is stressful enough. I don't need several heads of stupidity telling me to do this and that. There's a lot of other willing competent contenders out there. Make them do it.
A guy who really couldn't be bothered; an Introduction
Look. I lived by a code, a pretty lax one when you first look at it, but a code nonetheless.
But being a half-blood? Yep, that brought along a lot of complications.
So, my only warning is this. If you feel something, like a burning feeling in your stomach (or that could have only happened to me, with my intuition), close this thrice-damned thing and hope to whatever religion you're in to never hear something like it again. If nothing happens to you and you're somehow amused by what I'm telling you then you do you I guess. Good for you.
If you are a half-blood, demi-blood, even just a quarter-blood, I'm telling you; it ain't easy. You get the whole single parent (you shits are lucky if you have at least a step-parent stepping in - that is, of course, if they aren't an asshole), ADHD, dyslexia, and weird events all in one package.
Namely, you.
Not only that, but later on you're most likely going to have to fight. Now, for people like my family and I, that's pretty much normal already, without the whole 'mythology is actually a thing' deal. It might just look like one more thing to add to the growing list of experimental set-ups my mum's crazy scientist friends tend to grow during their stays at New York, which is, fortunately, not that often.
Now that I think about it, its probably going to attract more weirdos under my mom's care, as if she didn't have enough already.
What am I talking about?
The people that constantly surround my mother and her saint-like patience. No, its not a reverse harem. I'd kill you should you even consider courting my mom. It's just that; with all the trigger-happy tutors, overbearing granddad (seriously, fuck him), and violent guardians she connects to, we'd look like a walking-talking nuclear bomb waiting for a trigger sequence.
In any case, going back to what I wanted to say earlier; you're going to fight, sooner or later. Your parent would probably hope later, as any concerned parent would, but it's best to be prepared. The best way to do that is to find a place willing to teach you. Preferably Half-Blood hill. They've got the right specifics for you.
Yeah, that camp isn't exactly subtle, but they have magic that is so just maybe assume its alright.
And if you ever decide to ignore my warning, well, buddy pal homie amigo friend, you're definitely fucked. Especially so when they come after you. Which is exactly what happened when I decided to be stupid (Reborn would kill me, but he can go fuck himself; I wanna be a kid dammit) for once in my life - and this was during a field trip of all things.
My name? Percy Jackson. This is about me (egotistical, I know) figuring out that the universe was a dick who liked to throw people like me into situations I didn't ask to be inserted to in the first place. (I'm only twelve for crying out loud, give me some time to breathe!)