hey guys sorry for the wait lol please go read my new story Wild Things

also sorry for the format if its confusing on this I really like the return key apparently this entire thing is unbeta'ed and whatever

you know?

ps I wanna try and get better at dialouge send me quote prompts if u want (send me whatever prompts you want actually i'm thirsty for ideas)

and also sorry if this is shit

*Mentions abuse so if you wanna know that it does

Percy wanted to go on a tour of New York. School was going to start soon, and everyone needed a pick-me-up. Percy had decided, with his mother's and Paul's permission, to drop out out high school and finish his GED online. It was the best choice for him, considering everything he had gone through and done and all the school he had missed in those eight months Percy had spent sleeping. Seeing his friends so down at the end of his summer season at Camp, where everyone had decided to stay while things were being rebuilt and settled, made Percy decide to take his friends on a tour of his hometown.

After acquiring permission from Chiron, Annabeth, Frank, Hazel, Leo, Jason, Piper, Percy, and Grover had all ended up piled onto one of the many overcrowded subway cars, headed to the tourist attractions they hadn't seen. After the Statue of Liberty, the group headed to Central Park, then to the Empire State Building (without going to Olympus), then to Rockefeller Center - all very touristy, mainstream visiter spots, but that was kind of the point. The group was headed to the MoMA, before carting off to Sally and Paul's apartment for a visit and a meal.

"And this is some art that some dude did," Percy laughed to himself, making the same joke about every piece he had seen so far. He didn't really appreciate museums too much, but he figured Annabeth might like them, or at least, Hazel would.

Jason rolled his eyes at the older boy, and continued to walk further into the building. He stopped before a very realistic looking statue. The placard in front of the art read, "The Poker Player by Sally Jackson" engraved in metal.

"Hey Perce, come look at this," Jason said, waving him over from the back of the room. "This person has the same name as your mom. Know 'em?" It was a stupid joke, just something to roll your eyes at.

Percy's eyes widened a fraction, before he bit out, "Jackson's a very common last name, Jase," with a smile that, up too close, was a bit too forced.

"Same first name as your mom, too, though. Freaky." The matter was dropped, before Annabeth walked over. It had been a while since she had seen such realism in a stone statue, but the clarity of Medusa's creations was still burned into her brain from all those years ago. Too caught up in their shared memories, even she didn't notice the way his smirk didn't reach his eyes, or how his eyebrows twitched the slightest bit when he made eye contact with the stone man.

Percy stared into the ugly, cement eyes of what was once the bane of his existence, and one of the biggest conspirators against his conscious. Looking up at the face of the pig with three hairs combed over a bald head, with a losing deck of cards in a fist Percy was all too familiar with, he felt like he was ten years old again, covered in shattered glass and leftover alcohol, sitting on the floor of the tiny shower in the tiny bathroom of the tiny apartment, trying not to make a sound. He could feel the tremble starting in his teeth, as one of the many suppressed memories he tried to squash made itself seen to his eyes.

A single, almost silent, shaking breath, a smile that felt a little too fake, and Percy turned around, and went to link hands with Annabeth, ready to move on. He hadn't expected to face such a vivid jolt into the past, but Percy pushed it to the back of his mind for later. For now, he was ready to get to his mom's place.

A subway ride and a couple blocks later, seven demigods and one satyr were piled into the Jackson-Blofis apartment, seated on four kitchen chairs, a small sofa, and the floor, balancing plates and stories, as they chatted with Percy's parents. Laughter rung out from the apartment, surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear, and by the time they were finished, it was far too late for Sally to feel comfortable sending the teens on such a long trip back to camp. Blankets and pillows were pulled out of a closet, and set up on the couch and on the floor.

As the adults retired for the night, Percy pulled out a few quieter video games for the console across the room. He grabbed a few controllers, and handed them to Frank and Leo, as the rest settled in to watch and wait.

A video game tournament and a few comical jabs later, and all were ready to retire for the night. Percy had refused his bedroom, offering it to Hazel and Piper, as Frank and Hazel were far too scandalized at the mere prospect of sharing a bedroom. Leo, Frank and Jason settled on the floor next to the bed. Annabeth, Percy and Grover had set up the pull out couch and had squished all three of themselves onto it. As Annabeth fell asleep to Grover's soft bleating and her own whispers mixed with Percy's, the sound of gentle breathing filled the small apartment. Percy moved onto the living room floor, to give his friends more space to sleep.

Two hours later, and Percy was still awake, lying in the pile of blankets he had lumped on the floor. An image of a fat, bald man, made of cement staring straight back at him. Percy knew it was all in his head, but he would have sworn he could still smell that musky odor of cigarettes, alcohol, and poor hygiene. As he tossed and turned, trying to get to sleep, memories of the abuse suffered at the hands of his stepfather.

"Why can't you get your own stupid beer, Smelly Gabe!" Percy was getting rebellious. At seven years old, he had decided he was done with Gabe's verbal abuse. He watched the alcoholic pound his fist into his hand from across the room.

"C'mere, punk," The walrus of a man rose slowly from the couch, and stalked towards him. Percy started to scamper away, before backing himself into a corner and trying to stand his ground. That was the first time that Gabe actually hit him. Beat him, really. From then on, the abuse had turned physical, but never in places unable to be covered with clothing.

Percy fell into a restless sleep, dreaming of a past he tried so hard to forget, never thinking of the ways his hardships had leaked through into aspects of life other people could see.

Some of the Hermes kids had snuck some alcohol into camp, for a party. They wanted to get a little buzzed, and do something normal teenagers did, at least once in their life. So the Hermes kids invited all the other teenagers in camp to a party, after curfew. They had lookouts, so the harpys wouldn't eat them, and had somehow made tunnels to connect the cabins underground, in case of Chiron or Mr. D coming to check on them, in the instance of too much noise. All the planning was a sign of a party a long time coming, and displayed a strong longing for normalcy, something every kid in camp could relate to.

Unsurprisingly, many, if not all, the teenagers in camp showed up to the party. To make the stolen booze last longer, and for the greater good of the entire camp, it was very watered down, so that drinking it would only give the consumer a buzz enough for them to feel tipsy, and no one would have enough to actually get drunk.

When offered a drink, Percy politely refused, looking a little pale at the mention of the consummation of alcoholic beverage. He was offered refreshment of the intoxicating liquid three times, and refused all three. Visibly uncomfortable at the thought of stomaching even the smallest bit of alcohol, Percy stalked away from the food and drink table to mingle in the corner of the party. He never touched a drop of the foul smelling liquid, despite the unintended pressure of his peers.

Unbeknownst to them, he was trying desperately to stop himself from the recollection of the reek of beer in what was supposed to be a home. He couldn't help but remember the way cans and bottles piled up in mountains he didn't think anyone could climb. The way foul-smelling breath washed over him as new bruises were born onto youthful skin. The way he knew the stench of alcohol couldn't be washed away as easily as the bruises could, proof being the strange looks he got at school everytime he returned from a trip back home. Percy had sworn to himself then that he would never let any drop of alcohol past his lips. And he was going to make good on his promise now.

During freetime in between activities, someone had found a deck of cards. The group of demigods consisting of Thalia, Annabeth, Piper, Leo, and Percy had voted to play poker. As cards were being dealt, Percy smiled and excused himself from the game to watch, instead of participate. He laughed along with Thalia's complaints and Annabeth's teasing jabs, but didn't give into their request. Percy leaned against the back of a chair and watched the cards fly into hands. At some point during the game, Percy slipped away into the comfort of solace, unknown to the others.

They didn't see him place a hand over his chest, trying to manually quell the anxiety replacing the air in his lungs, as he sat alone in his cabin. Percy tried to remember the instructions to breathing, as he reminded himself that his past tormenter was made of stone, now. And not currently playing poker under a tree a little walk away from where he currently sat. And because of that, there were no beatings to come in the event of an unsuccessful game, or money to be stolen. His drawers were not about to be pilfered through by any sort of walrus of a man, and he was not about to learn how many ways a bottle could break on such a tiny body.

Pushing all of these feelings down, Percy shook his head at his own ridiculousness. He knew he didn't have any right to be so worked up over something as absurd as this. Many demigods had less than favorable lives in the mortal world, and his own mortal-world life was so much better now, with his new step-father, a mom who was actually alive, and a baby sister on the way. Besides, he reasoned, whatever Gabe had done to him, what was done to his mother must have been way worse.

Percy emerged from the lake at Camp Half-Blood, completely dry, but still shirtless. Many demigods were lounged about on the beach on the shore of the lake, bunched into their little groups. He walked over to his own group, as they had all been out of the water for quite a while. Half a sandcastle was made, mostly of dirt, and a small hole had been dug to store water bottles and sunglasses in.

"Hey Perce, what's that?" questioned Hazel, pointing to a strange, faded marking on Percy's side, half covered by the waist of his shorts.

"Oh, that? Just a birthmark," Percy smiled a little too easily, as he slipped a shirt over his head. The answer seemed to satisfy the curiosity of his friend as he knelt down to help press some more dirt and sand into the walls of her castle.

Upon further inspection, one would be able to see that the "birthmark" was actually a scar in the form of a mangled "g u", the results of one particular bad incident with Percy's stepfather. The man had been more drunk than usual, and had decided he wanted to experiment in branding. He had smashed one of his countless bottles over the counter, sprinkling Percy's small, ten-year-old feet with glass. He had forced the boy still over his knee as he carefully carved his initials into his stepson's small hip.

Percy had run off to the bathroom once he was finished. He couldn't explain it, but the water always seemed to make everything hurt less. It made the bruises start to fade a little faster, and the cuts seemed to clot faster, and always left him without a scar. This time, though, as the water began to heal the hip, collagen began to overgrow, forming a scar.

It was the only one. The only proof of what had happened to Percy. Perhaps, because there was too much alcohol in it, or because it was a bigger wound than before, Percy never knew. And he never mentioned it to anyone.

The next morning, Percy thought back to his encounter with his mother's sculpture. An overgrown gorilla of a man, with a bad hand of cards frozen, forever encased in cement. Everything he lived through in the moments his green eyes met stone features was just an overreaction. He knew that there was really, nothing to be so worked up over. Nothing really happened to him, otherwise he would be a lot more scarred, physically, mentally, emotionally. Right?

Hey y'all so heres a chapter. It deals with mentions of some heavy stuff, but not really graphic, so s'all good?

ANYWAYS

if you or a loved one is suffering from domestic abuse, you need to get help. The abuser won't stop, I promise. Get out of that relationship, that situation, whatever it takes for you to be safe.

Here's some hotline numbers:

1-800-799-7233 (call the abuse hotline)

1-800-787-3224 (text the abuse hotline)

1-800-273-8255 (suicide hotline)

remember that computer and phone usage can be monitored and never completely erased btw thanks

this is a just in case