Warning: This story contains violence, self-harm, and child abuse. Also, I have a potty-mouth, so be warned.
Disclaimer: If I owned Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Percy would never have even looked at Annabeth. Also, I don't own Panic! at the Disco: London Beckoned Songs About Money By Machines
Percy woke up barely able to move thanks to the beating of the previous night and the night before. Would he be late to school? Yes. Did he give a double-fudge-covered-flying-fuck? No he did not. He slowly pulled himself out of the bed to go rid himself of the itching in his wrists.
As he turned on the water for the shower, he started singing quietly to himself. "Can't take the kid from the fight, can't take the fight from the kid..."
In between verses, he would let his favorite razor glide over the skin of his wrist, leaving a river of blood in it's wake. He just had to make sure to leave before Gabe got up...
Percy made it into the classroom just as Mrs. Dodds was taking roll.
"Percy Who-ever-you-are?" she called out loudly, just as he busted through the door.
"Present!" he sang out triumphantly, skipping to his seat. Mrs. Dodds just shook her head and the rest of the class roared with laughter as Percy leapt on top of his desk and began singing.
"Stop stalling, make a name for yourself.
Boy you better put that pen to paper, charm your way out.
If you talk you better walk you better back your shit up
With more than good hooks while you're all under the gun
Start talking "a sensationalist"
Oh he's slightly clever to just a certain extent
If you talk you better walk you better keep your mouth shut
With more than good hooks while you're all under the gun
(Panic!: meet the press)
It's time for us to take a chance
It's time for us to take a chance
(Panic!: meet the press)
It's time for us to take a chance
It's time for us...
Well we're just a wet dream for the webzine,
Make us it, make us hip, make us scene
Or shrug us off your shoulders
Don't approve a single word that we wrote
Well we're just a wet dream for the webzine,
Make us it, make us hip, make us scene
Or shrug us off your shoulders
Don't approve a single word that we wrote
I'm burning and I'm blacking my lungs
Boy you know it feels good with fire back on your tongue
If you talk you better walk you better back your shit up
With more than good hooks while you're all under the gun
Start talking "a sensationalist"
Oh he's slightly clever to just a certain extent
Well keep quiet let us sing like the doves
Then decide if it's done with purpose or lack thereof.
Just for the record,
The weather today is slightly sarcastic with a good chance of:
A. Indifference or
B. Disinterest in what the critics say
It's time for us to take a chance
It's time for us...
Well we're just a wet dream for the webzine,
Make us it, make us hip, make us scene
Or shrug us off your shoulders
Don't approve a single word that we wrote
Well we're just a wet dream for the webzine,
Make us it, make us hip, make us scene
Or shrug us off your shoulders
Don't approve a single word that we wrote
Just for the record,
The weather today is slightly sarcastic with a good chance of:
A. Indifference or
B. Disinterest in what the critics say
Well we're just a wet dream for the webzine,
Make us it, make us hip, make us scene
Or shrug us off your shoulders
Don't approve a single word that we wrote
Well we're just a wet dream for the webzine,
Make us it, make us hip, make us scene
Or shrug us off your shoulders
Don't approve a single word that we wrote
Just for the record,
The weather today is slightly sarcastic with a good chance of:
A. Indifference or
B. Disinterest in what the critics say."
He danced the whole time he sang, just being goofy, and by halfway through the song, the whole class was singing along. At the end of the song, he shouted out, "Now THAT'S what I call a good morning!" He dipped the front of his fedora and bowed slightly before taking his seat beside Nico.
How is he not freaked out yet? Percy wondered to himself. Oh well... "So, teacher-lady, you must get paid quite a bit to stand up there and gawk..."
That snapped Mrs. Dodds out of her stupor. She just shook her head again and started the lecture.
Nico lightly poked Percy in the shoulder, startling him into falling out of he seat with a loud thump. The rest of the class turned to stare at them, and Percy laughed nervously. "I thought I saw a unicorn humping a smurf, but it turned out to just be a stegosaurus. Don't worry, it's under control now."
The rest of the class busted out laughing, and Annabeth snickered. "Someone forgot to take their crazy pills this morning..."
"Hey!" Percy said mockingly. "I didn't forget to take them, I just didn't feel like it this morning. And there may or may not have been a purple tarantula on the bottle." He had everyone going for it, hook, line, and sinker.
"Percy, how many fingers am I holding up?" Mrs. Dodds asked worriedly.
Percy paused as if to think. "Let me consult my magical leprechaun of knowledge..." He closed his eyes and pretended to be deep in thought. "The answer is seventeen! Did I get it? What's my prize?"
"You get absolutely nothing!" Mrs. Dodds was now effectively freaked out.
"Yay! I've always wanted absolutely nothing!" Percy did a little victory dance. Just then, the bell rang. "Oops, gotta run. Grandma's in the kitchen again... And let me tell you, she can't cook to save her life!" With that he bolted out the door, leaving a very confused class behind him.
"Well then," Mrs. Dodds said quietly. "That went well."
