#earthssprout

@earthssprout || in reference to this bullshittery

So . . . he has to process this.

Between Ari's speech patterns jumbling Rocky's grasp on English and the little hand pressing against that mesh, he's a bit lost at first. Best to go with what he knows works. Imitation. And one of his claws lifts to reach for hers in return—maybe she just wants to hold hands. Fine.

In the meantime . . .

“Misser Gayce” = Grace. Rocky's accepted “misser” isn't actually a name, but a title, confused as he was initially. “Heffy” = heavy . . . ? Accurate, compared to the much lighter humans (who can float in water, by the way; still getting over that). “Genruss” = ??? To be determined.

And then there's “fat.” Okay.

He works with what he knows.

"More bottles today?" An eyebrow's risen slightly watching her toddle in with arms full but Mateo can't help the small smile creeping onto his face.

"You know I'm running out of room on the window, kiddo~"

He finally closed his grading book and moved to sit on the floor so he'd be eye level with her.

whatever it is from his past that’s chasing him, Ari already forgives 🥺 he’s a Nice Pirate 🍃

What's that? 'Teary eyed'? Certainly not him! The wind simply blew something in his eye, that's all.

“ha … happy merry birthday, Pissy!” Ari said brightly, holding onto the edge of the table to keep herself stable as she jovially bounced on her toes. “fff … for you!”

@earthssprout || “belated” bday shenanigans (bc winnie sent this in on time but i'm slow so it's on me asdjgjk)

So, look, kids Percy's age had typically “grown out” of themed gifts.

Y'know, for example, how a pretty decent percentage of little girls apparently had a “horse girl phase” that all their parties had to be centered around, but they eventually moved on (Would Ari ever have one of those?); or how your favorite color was practically a personality trait (along with your favorite food, whether you liked cats or dogs [never both; unacceptable], what team you rooted for in literally any sport [ . . . but that extended to the adults, too]). Thing is, at some point, a kid's interests became a bit more complex than just “dog goes woof, so I obsess over dog” . . .

Or, okay, “Mom started making everything blue just to spite my dumb step-dad, so now I obsess over the color blue.” Or, “Yeah, my dad's the sea god, so my entire personality needs to be surfer boy chic.”

See, good thing “Percy” and “typical” weren't on the same page. (And the alphabet wasn't changing anytime soon to alter that.)

When he saw the assortment of gifts laid out across the table, he might as well have been living his best “horse girl” dreams, thriving in the “Yes, my favorite color is blue and I'm owning it” vibes, basking in the “I'm the son of Poseidon” spotlight. But maybe what really sold the whole thing, what really made it all the more special, was seeing the excited little girl who went to all the trouble to do this for him.

Yeah. That had to be it. That had to be why Percy found himself grinning like he was in the middle of a sugar high after too much cake. (He hoped that'd be the literal case soon.)

“Whoa, seriously? Did you do all of this?” Percy was pretty sure she couldn't have. (But he was also pretty sure he was prone to underestimating her.) He'd happily give her all the credit, either way. “That's so cool. Everything turned out amazing.” And he spent a few moments rolling the painted seashells over in his fingers, eventually donning that necklace as proudly as if it bore his beads from camp.

"Then we do this. . . and this. . ." Klee wiggled closer to her companion, little fingers working at a white piece of paper that she had been carefully folding and snipping. She couldn't remember what the art was called, but she had made it a point to remember how the little clover was made.