( there is a boy. man. a boy-man. he’s standing on the lip of a large fountain with his back to bystanders, doing gods know what with his palms balled in fists at his sides. for anyone that’s walking near the far side and can see his face, he looks like he has a vendetta against the flowing water—you don’t know, maybe he does. water really be out here snatching bags from *innocuous elderly women these days.

what’s he doing? exactly what he’s been told not to do, duh. the lack of amnesia is merciful touch but he’s been here before. not here in new amsterdam rather he’s been relocated against his will and without his knowledge before. so this? all of thiiiiiiiiiiiiis? it’s not really doing anything for him. don’t mind him while he raises his palms, open and pointed at the water.

someone behind him, probably anticipating a magic trick, yells do something! at the back of his buzzed head. ( someone wants to eat a shoe. ) )

Could you—I don’t know—not? ( he huffs, concentration broken. the mist here is borked. cool, cool, cool. the guy in the crowd barks another request and percy turns too fast, unaccustomed to water having any effect on him ( unless he wants it to ), and he falls backward into the shallow water. ) Yeap. Real funny.

( he doesn’t look furious so much as 300% Done™ while he stares skyward for a second. he never thought he would miss textboots of all things but here he is, making exhausted fingerguns at his number one fan. ) Check back next week. I’ll be a real clown.

*not to be confused with harpies

( with the exception of boarding school and the first week of camp, percy jackson has a tendency to make friends wherever he goes. that’s not the problem here. he has people to talk to. people who, for some reason, let him carry on. he misses annaebth. he misses his mom. more than anything though, he misses the little things. he misses the lingering smell of chocolate chips on sally when he barrels into her for a hug because he had a rough day. he misses waking up in the night and finding annabeth’s hand with his in the dark. he even misses clarisse knocking on his skull and asking if anyone’s home.

he misses touching people and he doesn’t exactly consider himself a handsy person.

catch him in the kitchen/general room at the safehouse, leaping at the chance to retrieve “milk” or some other ingredient for someone and immediately going in for a high-five. the first time, it’s no big deal. okay. you can’t win ‘em all. the second time, someone’s trying to pull something out of the oven while another timer is going off for something on the stove and he scrambles over to stir what’s passing as rice. his fist comes up for a casual fist bump and he’s shot down again. )

You’re just going to leave me hanging like that? ( he maturely puts the pan back on the burner and walks away.

the third time, he’s all in. let’s go. get in, we’re playing emotional-chicken, losers. he’s not even subtle about it. percy lies in wait, leaning against the counter until someone reaches for an oven mitt next to him and he claps his hand right on top of theirs. )

Nope, sorry. I’m using that. Dibs. ( and if that poor soul is unfortunate enough to sans gloves, they’re getting a ripple of victory, pettiness, and an undercurrent of loneliness. )

( unfortunately for percy, this is not anonymous. )

ring ring ring rnig ring rngi rign 🍌☎️,,
srs qs time
life or death
10 seconds on the ⏳


who do i talk to about 🍕?