#or whatever arrives

[m4g0hun]

lost child

[ganondoodle]

Empress and her Bodyguard.

(OCs, grey haired lady Zaphira she/her, demon Shargon he/they)

(also some details up close)

and this guy bc i find him funny

[sakasakiii]

imladris lads :D it started off as a few doodles of gildor bc of a great prompt i received from an anon a few weeks ago, and then spiralled into something else entirely bc i havent really taken the time to explore much of anything imladris-related? i really like the lindir-is-maglor concept so heres my take on how it couldve happened haha

as always, credit to Cartoon Network for the sparkly pink BG

thanks so much for the ask!! here's my take on gildor :DD i really like the way anon asked the question and it was what inspired me to draw finrod in the mix too strangely enough?? the vibes are similar 🤭

[thegoldencontracts]

Every single time someone makes Azul out to be a pathetic easily bullied guy with no ability to defend himself whatsoever an angel loses its wings falls to the ground and fucking dies.

Please remember, Azul's overblot was the exception, not the norm. He's not a pathetic little crybaby. The thing about this portrayal is that it does insinuate the idea that someone is weak and "pathetic" for having a breakdown when it's this widespread, clearly genuinely belief that a character is pathetic as evidenced by one breakdown.

Same goes for Riddle. Yes, he had a breakdown during his overblot, but with both him and Azul, that was an exception, not the norm. There are plenty of scenes where they've both shown themselves to be smug and powerful characters.

Heck, even during Azul's breakdown, he did end up displaying his true power by sucking that literal magic and talent out of all the students nearby. Leona literally stated that his Unique Magic was forbidden. Riddle was known as the Crimson Tyrant because of the way he treated others. Azul isn't going to cry every time someone insults him, case in point, the way he behaves with Jamil, who makes a habit out of it. He doesn't run off feeling hollow after every interaction, because, well, he keeps coming back! And his enthusiasm is never hankered!

Even when dealing with physically stronger individuals, like Floyd (and most twst characters let's face it most of the cast has six packs), Riddle is never afraid. It was once mentioned that he effortlessly overpowered Floyd during the opening ceremony in Beans Day. With his magic, he's not weak, and he's certainly not helpless.

Obviously, while you can write whatever you want, I just want to explain why I believe that characterization is inaccurate. I love writing fics myself, and I (a long with most fic writers I've asked) prefer writing things that seem like they could reasonably happen with the characters and/or au in question.

[tratatdragonlord]

Show me your true from!

[luckycl0ve]

top 10 all time situations in which to cast silence

[keferon]

Bro, momu just updated

WAIT WHAT I DIDNT GET ANY NOTIFICATIONS WAIT WAI

[dxxtruction]

"Louis acting like a pimp to Armand" And what is a pimp exactly? Quickly. And, oh so sexual trauma survivors can't engage in kink now without it being all about that? Pet names? They can't be submissive anymore? Consensually? Sexually healthy? Be serious. I'd hardly say there's much power difference between them during all this anyway, except that Louis is freer than Armand and it's been putting a strain on their relationship. Louis wants more from Armand, and less of this 'being his past' for them both, and so helping Armand with this could fix that. It's healthy to want to help your partners get out of a rough patch?

I mean, the whole exchange was very clearly set up as a "I want to help you" after such a great moment of vulnerability Louis feels just how much Armand is desperate for it. Louis called Armand so they could work out a plan together.

And the bit with the umbrella was Louis' way of asking 'are you willing to listen to me?' and Armand said yes by unfolding it. Louis goes on and explains, Armand is allowed to argue against it, but Louis makes his point. And then he gives Armand a way to make his own choice in it too. Armand's already decided 'I want you, more than anything else in the world', but Louis still asks after if he's sure of his choice, and with a name, Arun, that is the one of his fullest agency, running the point home. Honoring the situation Armand calls Louis Maitre - as a way of being like 'I'll do as you've said then'. To make this work he's going to have to give Louis some of the control, yes. But it's the first time such a role is ever established, and it was his choice to do it. So so what if they do it in a very suggestive way? They can't like doing that? I think it's them having fun.

I struggle to find how Louis is being overly domineering here when really he's giving and offering Armand the most agency he's ever had. Same with finding it manipulative. The manipulation was more earlier in the episode I think, when he was stringing him along, giving mixed signals. He's no longer toying with him like that. Louis might be pushing Armand, leading him on to make a decision, but he doesn't mean bad by it.

But back to this pimp thing. I find it frankly offensive that this is where people are going with this. I get it, but to run with it being the case is, on many levels, wrong.

Louis told us episode 1 this was the only sustainable line of work to support his family and keep their standing, at the time. It was never his choice to be doing this either but his blackness allowed no other options. He did what he did so his family could stay in that house and maintain all their same comforts. It gave him privileges most black men didn't have at the time that he wanted to maintain and even have more of. Anyway, it doesn't and had never defined him the way 'being good at running things' had. And in that case he just likes having that kind of control where he can get it, which makes sense.

The world is what placed that kind of role onto him of what he was allowed to be able to run, not himself. And on that he actually treated the sex workers he employed well and respected them enough to give them more opportunity.** He recognizes they don't have much in the way of options either.

Louis employed sex workers, yes, but he didn't subject them to abuse, (like how Armand was)*. He didn't oversee things in a way that would go against their consent (see; episode 1 again)**. Sometimes a job is just a job. And Sex work is work.

Armand's particular past with sexual abuses may strike a particular cord with Louis, given all that, but the very last thing either is thinking is that Louis' pimping Armand out here. This is merely their decision as companions, and had nothing to do with adding another line in a laundry list of selling Armands body out to people at the command of someone else. Armand rescinds some of his control to Louis' wishes, because he wants him, and he trusts him, that's all.

If you aren't allowing Armand that choice, and are doubtful it's fully his, you're putting him right back in the box of being defined by his abuses. Putting him back into that space where he isn't given any agency over what he does. (Which is exactly opposite of what the intent of this scene is for)*.

*: (edit) added for clarity.

**: (strike through) numerous people are saying I'm misremembering these points so disregard it. (Thought he was siding with Bricks, it was the other way around). (Technically one aspect of those opportunities were for getting around the law). I don't have a perfect memory, it happens. Let's not get mad about it. Doesn't change much of the point which is that Louis, now, Louis then, was always considering more about the running things and for stated purposes. So I guess I'd say he may only have respected the SWers enough sometimes for what allowed him to do that, and there are moments he certainly expressed remorse over the fact, but he has a great deal higher respect for Armand that is genuine. It's incomparable. Please read my added notes in the tags, it should address most other concerns.

[lsleofthelost]

XOXO, gossip girl

prologue

masterlist ✧ next

a/n: surprise, the origins of GG are earlier than expected! i am trying to make all the dates (including years) to make sense and be as accurate as I can. this is the batch up to parent's day in D1 and there will be more of those earlier tweets and scandals teehee

[auspicioustidings]

Firewatch Part 4

Summary: You fight back and a punishment is handed out.

(Or, anytime Mhairi writes more than 3 chapters of anything we inevitably land on angst)

Word Count: 2.3k

CWs: Kidnapping, dubcon

You felt your legs give out which had the unintended but maybe welcomed result of Ghost realising he had been rutting against you and stopping with a bitten off growl, arm banded around you holding you up.

“It’s what’s best for you sweetheart” he whispered lowly into your ear. “You didn’t want to be all alone anymore, invited us to take care of you. And we will, promise we’ll take such good care of you.”

There was a numbness to you now and you tried to dig deep and find the fight. You couldn’t just give in, you refused to just give in. He was warm and sounded kind and there was a betrayal happening between your body and mind as you only barely stopped yourself from pushing back against him to chase that rutting, to try and make him move again. This was so fucked up.

You tried to bite at his hand but it was difficult with how large his palm was over your mouth. Still he squeezed your waist hard, knowing exactly what you had been attempting and scraping his teeth against your earlobe in warning. 

“Don’t start with me, I bite hard.”

You whined and felt tears of humiliation from hearing that it didn’t sound entirely like a horrified whine prickle at your eyes. It sounded like a needy one. 

“Oh, you’d like it wouldn’t you sweetheart? You need someone to bite hard, put you in your place a little.”

You hated him, you hated him so intensely that you got your legs back to solid beneath you through spite and then started kicking out to try and get him to loosen his grip enough to free your arms. Your entire weight plus the force of your legs wildly bucking out didn’t seem to phase him from a strength standpoint, but you felt a little satisfaction when he had to adjust his stance to stop from losing his balance. 

“Knock it the fuck off.”

His tone sent a blaring siren of ‘stop’ off in your head. You hadn’t spoken at any length with this man, but you had not heard him sound like this, like some sensual predator ready to hold you down, unsure if he was going to fuck you or eat you right up. He would find that you were not meek prey. You had moved to a new town where you knew nobody, taught yourself how to do everything you needed to bring a ruin back to life. Giving up easy was not in your nature. You kept kicking. 

The pain of his teeth in the juncture of your shoulder and neck that was revealed by the slouching t-shirt was white hot and knocked the air fully out of your lungs. He hadn’t been exaggerating, he bit incredibly hard, like he was trying to make sure the mark he was sucking into you went right down to bone. You thought he might rip your throat out, leave you here to bleed out, and you couldn’t even scream against his hand because you had forgotten how to breathe. You gave a few final kicks but it was a token effort to prove that he could not so easily conquer you before you settled down, chest heaving with the start of shuddering breaths as you tried to get enough air. In the fray he had hoisted you up higher, your feet no longer quite reaching the ground to leave you hanging like a ragdoll.

You didn’t even register that you could have screamed now, his hand had left your mouth and was instead gently cradling your head so he could lap at the bite, soothing. The other arm moved to gently set you down, turning you so that you could see his uncovered face. He was handsome in the tragic way a man with scars often was. 

“Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to lose my temper, shouldn’t play so rough with you should I? S’for your own good, needed you to calm down. Went all loose so pretty when you felt my teeth huh? Just what you needed” he said, a quiet and desperate ramble as he kept planting little kisses and licks at your neck.

You should stop him. You could just tell him to stop, find out if he would respect it. But it felt so nice to have his lips and tongue worshipping at the mark he had left. It felt like he was pressing prayers into your skin, reverent and gentle. Well if you were going to hell for enjoying this, may as well twist the knife. You pulled gently at his hair so you could bring his head up and press a kiss to his lips, waiting until he relaxed into the gesture and then letting yourself imagine this was any other situation so you could enjoy it for a moment before bringing your knee as hard as you could up into his groin and spilling out of the closet when he buckled.

–

There was perhaps a more elegant reaction you could have had when you found downstairs was much as it had been this morning only with the addition of Johnny. Whoever had been here was gone, the three firemen looking over at you with gentle smiles as if you had just casually come downstairs for a cup of tea. You were too late. 

“Oh for fuck sake!” you yelled, not trying to get to the door. 

You knew a little better now. No shoes so you weren’t outrunning anyone unless you had a significant head start. Johnny was leant by one of the windows, near enough to the door that you wouldn’t even make it out without him getting there first. He grinned and glanced out of it when you caught his eye, as if it was some big funny joke that whoever had been here was now far enough away that they couldn’t be seen through the glass. They’d probably driven over the rough tracks, probably already well out of the woods.

While Price looked somewhat disappointed at your language, Kyle laughed brightly at your outburst before coming over to you. He was still shirtless in nothing but those plaid pyjama bottoms. Why did this idiot have to kidnap some girl? He could have anyone he wanted, what exactly drove him to this?

“You don’t have any money for the swear jar luv, going to have to think of a different way for you to pay up,” he said with a cheeky grin before his eyes softened and he gently swept a thumb over your neck, giving a pitying little coo when you flinched. “Bloody git, need to muzzle him don’t we?”

Price appeared then, now interested in checking what Kyle was talking about. He didn’t seem anywhere near as casual about it, a storm gathering in his expression as he took your neck in. It was confusing that he should be the angry one here. He was still one of your captors. You heard footsteps on the stairs. Ghost must have been managing to limp heavily down them now. 

“24 hour watch for a fortnight Simon, get yourself together because you start in an hour.”

That caught Johnny’s attention and he came barrelling over as well. It was ridiculous how the four of them just swallowed you completely, all tall and broad and intense.You imagined it must be like being under several weighted blankets, soothing but a little panic inducing when you realised that it was hard to move.

“Naw Captain, dinnae gie him that! He did it tae calm ye down didn’t he bonnie? Has tae do the same tae me if I get too reckless, if I might end up hurting myself cause I’m being a bampot” Johnny said.

You looked at those big liquid eyes of his, saw that they were genuine in their belief that Ghost was just doing right by you. You tucked away the image of teeth in Johnny’s throat and resisted the urge to agree with him to please him. To make him smile at you. To save Simon Riley from being stuck alone for the majority of the next two weeks because he was serving penance. The Simon who had made you hot chocolate and who Dosia had so easily taken to as safe. The Simon who had realised he had lost control, had spilled apologies to you and laid devout kisses all over the evidence. The Simon who wasn’t defending himself at all, was willing to take the punishment without complaint.

“What does 24 hour watch mean?” you asked quietly, feeling the oppressive silence and stillness that followed crushing down on you.

Kyle had been surprised you had spoken up, was pretty sure the rest were as well. None more so than Simon who was staring at you like you were some alien thing in front of him. Were you going to try and ask leniency or going to request he get a more severe punishment? Hard to tell. You were so different already from what Kyle had created in his head. So wild and stubborn. He had no idea what you might say next.

“It means he’ll stay in the watchtower for the two weeks luv. He won’t be allowed to come back here for anything unless it’s an emergency, he’ll be using the little outhouse and rainwater shower at the base and we’ll drop food off” he said, trying to be gentle and finding that he could not resist the opportunity to tease when you seemed so deep in thought. “He’ll sleep on that sofa you ravished me on.”

“Aye in front of us if I recall, was mean spirited of ye bonnie.”

You sputtered an attempt at an outraged string of words which only came out as noises and smacked at Kyle’s chest. They had kidnapped you, technically they had murdered you, and the fact that they could still make you blush with flirty banter was beyond what was acceptable. 

In anger at yourself more than anything you refused to look at Simon and said nothing to save him, Price ignoring Soap’s outburst and instead only looking to you for any protest. You would not let yourself like these men, he could rot in that tower for all you cared. For two weeks. Barely sleeping. Hardly seeing anyone. Miserable. No, no that guilt could turn itself right around and find a home elsewhere, you were not entertaining the idea that you might not want that to happen.

“Yes sir.”

“Ye cannae be serious! C’mon bonnie, tell Price he’s got it wrong eh?” Soap said, weaving a hand through your hair to fix it a little and smiling still. 

His smile was tight with worry now. Before, Johnny had thought you would be quick to defend Simon and he wouldn’t be punished. You were such a soft thing in his head, he had always imagined you’d enjoy baking but would be notorious for burning everything. He dreamt of dancing around the kitchen with you, giving you little kisses to remind you when to take things out of the oven. It didn’t match with his mental image that you could be stubborn and ruthless. Surely you would say something right? You wouldn’t let Si suffer because of a little bite? Well a big bite, looking at it even Johnny knew he had gone too hard. He could take that level of rough, but you needed to be treated with more care than that. Still though, he hadn’t meant it, was probably just worked up was all. Two weeks of 24 hour watch was too harsh.

“Got what wrong? That I’ve been kidnapped and had a chunk taken out of my neck for trying to alert the authorities? That it turns out you’ve actually murdered me? How awful to have to sit in the tower for two weeks knowing that you can leave and walk into town at anytime! Something tells me he’ll survive such an indignity!” 

Not guilty, you would not feel guilty. You would not wince at the absolute heartbreak on Johnny’s face as you yelled at him. The shocked silence would not make you want to desperately apologise for being mean. The fact that you would actually be dead if not for the men in this room would not sway you. Their gentle care for you would be locked away tight in your head where you did not have to think about it. 

“With me little bird.”

Price was firm, issuing a command more than anything as he took a step towards a door at the side of the living room you had not been through yet. The others were silent. Yes, Price knew this would be difficult for you, but he was not about to let you scream at his men like that. Murdered you? Absolutely not. They were only acting in your best interests, removing all the stresses of the outside world and looking after you so you’d want for nothing. He saw you glowering at him and puffed out his chest.

“Now. You can come easy or I can make you come hard.”

There was something in the double entendre that got you blowing out a huff, sticking your chin up in defiance and stomping after him and through the door. You could not let him throw you over his shoulder and carry you there, not if there was any threat that it might spark something unwanted deep in your belly. Price closed the door behind you and you found yourself in a small office, toe to toe with him as you both stared one another down.

“You are going to regret bringing me here.”

“You are going to forget there was ever a time that you didn’t want to be here.”

“Wanna bet?”

[willthespy]

“its 7 in the morning why are you—” its a must

[plulp]

heres yalls science teacher. have fun go crazy

[happyk44]

The thing was Percy didn't like being a bad kid. Every time he got kicked out of a school or wound up in the counselor's office over some incident he wasn't completely blameless for, his mom's brows would pinch. The line on her lip dipped. He knew what she was thinking each time: lost wages, job risk, who was going to watch him if he got suspended, where would she send him if he got kicked out, and so on.

He hated that he did that to her. Being a bad kid meant being a bad son. He refused to be a bad son - not on purpose anyway.

Well, he used to. She wasn't here anymore. Her brows weren't going to furrow. Her lips wouldn't thin. Her shoulders wouldn't draw up and tense before the principal even opened their mouth. It was over.

He didn't have anyone anymore. Nobody at cabin eleven would look at him. Other cabins steered around him like he was carrying the plague. Grover was off doing whatever satyrs did - probably getting ready to infiltrate some new school, befriend some new kid, save their lives. He didn't need Percy. It’d only been a few days but they'd barely interacted. Older satyrs would yank him along into the wood before Percy could get close or even open his mouth. Even Annabeth just eyed Percy with scrutinizing eyes - like she was assessing him for something. But every time he tried to approach her outside of their lessons, she brushed him off.

No one wanted Percy around.

What was the point of being a good kid anymore? There wasn't anything or anyone forcing him to keep his head above water. He was tired of the murmurs. He was tired of the avoidance. Tired of the glares from the Ares cabin. Tired of trying to keep the quake in his stomach tamped down.

He was just tired.

He thumbed along the flat edge of his sword. His new best friend was the pervasive feeling of loneliness. With a miserable sigh, he tucked the sword into the holster on his hip. People barely wanted to spar with him now so he was stuck to sweating it out on the dummies by himself. At least only when Luke wasn't pushing him as hard as possible.

But even with Luke there seemed to be pause. The first time Percy felt his gut yank after being claimed had been in training with Luke, and as soon as the feeling caught him, Luke begged off. Like he'd seen something in Percy that unnerved him. Sometimes when Percy looked in the mirror, he saw something in his eyes that unnerved him. A foreign thing - like a contact lens put in the wrong way.

No amount of poking or prodding at his eyes was going to get it out though. It was inside him - in his blood. He was sure of it.

He was starting to worry that it was the very thing he'd been keeping back, the very thing his mom was trying to keep him safe from.

The clang of metal against metal was loud as he walked past other trainees. There were a couple people leaning against the wall near the water fountain. As expected, they shifted away as he neared. Mistrust was bright in their eyes.

He did his best to ignore it. Not the first time people had stared at him like they thought he was dangerous. Or beneath them.

The water sprayed for a moment before he lowered his head. It was clarifying. He'd noticed it before, a burst of energy with every sip whenever he was tired, but ever since being claimed, he'd noticed the alertness more and more.

As he let go of the button, he caught the tail end of the muttering nearby. His stomach dropped.

“... should've ditched him sooner,” one boy grumbled. His friend snorted. “Maybe then she wouldn't have died.”

“What did you say?” The two startled. Percy understood why. He barely recognized his own voice, the eerie coldness to it frosty on his own tongue. Still, he repeated as he twisted on his heels to face them. “What. Did you just say?”

Panic besot them. For a second, the barest of a second, he could feel it kick in - be a good boy for me, Percy, be a good kid for Mom.

But she wasn't here.

She wasn't here.

So what was the point?

He took a step forward. “What,” he snarled, saliva coating his tongue like froth, “did you say?”

The others shifted away but he just crept forward. “Nothing, man,” one of them finally bit out, but they were lying. He could see it in their eyes, hear in their voice, feel it in their veins.

“You're lying,” he said. A bitten off laugh echoed from his lips. “You were talking about my mom.” Another choked laugh. “You think it's my fault?”

One of them raised his hands - a mock surrender. “Hey, dude-”

“You think I wanted her to die?” A sharp sensation coiled through Percy's chest. It thrummed hot and heavy, piling, piling, piling on his lungs. “You think I asked for ANY OF THIS?”

Someone's hand came to rest on his shoulder and it was like the crashing of the waves against his bare feet. Cold, clarifying, clear.

Freeing.

His fist drove straight into the jaw of whoever was behind him. He could barely tell who he was seeing - it might've been Luke, or any other tall blonde guy. But as soon as whoever it was stumbled back, he whirled around and punched whichever kid was closest in the stomach. They went down and he clambered on top to wail. Fist and fist upon whatever body part he could reach. He wasn't the most elegant hand-to-hand fighter but there was something to be said for the voracious and vicious energy boiling through him.

Distantly he was aware of yelling around him, aware of people pulling at him, aware of the person beneath him crying, arms over their face, arms Percy was tired of hitting. He needed to get their face, get their tongue, rip his mom from their mouth. How dare they speak about her.

How dare anyone talk about her.

A dozen hands finally yanked him back. He screamed. Bodies toppled. He grabbed the closest one by their hair, driving his knee upwards over and over again until hands ripped him away again. Swung blindly and caught someone. The two of them fell. His stomach pulled back. They choked. They weakened. He swung himself over until he was on top.

I want you all to drown, he thought, grabbing at their jaw. Don't ever speak of her again.

Saliva smeared across his fingers. His stomach pulled back even more. What was that - blood, water? On his hands, on his knees, on their skin, on their faces, in their veins.

His free hand drew out. He wanted it. It was his. Didn't they get that? She was his, and she was gone, so he would take and take all else that belonged to him until the hole in his chest was gone. Until the water they had coursing inside them filled him up.

“Percy,” someone whispered.

Their voice was familiar, breath hot against Percy's ear. He twitched. The feeling of nearby water, nearby fluid, was clenched tight in his fist. He just had to pull back. Yank it. Make it his.

The voice turned pleading. “Percy.”

He froze as two hot hands came to clasp his cheeks, dark brown eyes and curly hair blurring into view. Grover's face.

“Grover,” he breathed. For the first time since he'd ended up at camp, he relaxed.

Grover's thumbs stroked his skin. “Yeah, it's me.” He leaned in closer. “Percy, you need to stop.”

“Stop?”

“You're hurting people," he said. “You have to stop.”

Why? Percy thought. He didn't care. He didn't care if they hurt, didn't care if they drowned where they laid choking, didn't care if they suffered. It didn't mean anything to him. They didn't mean anything to him.

But this was Grover.

And with his mom gone, Grover meant the world.

“You want me to stop?”

“Yes,” Grover said. His breath was warm, his skin hot, his body close. Distantly Percy remembered nights at school like this - Grover tucked up next to him, trying his best to help Percy study when most people would've bailed. “I want you to stop.”

His lips were wobbling. His eyes were thick with wetness. His voice was unsteady - trying to be calm and rapidly failing. Even his hands shook.

Percy grabbed at his wrists. “Okay,” he whispered as he clung. His stomach relaxed slowly, the crash turning into a tickle. “I'm good, I'm good.”

Shakily, Grover exhaled, pressed his forehead to Percy's, and murmured, “I know, I know.”

His hands pulled away from Percy's face, but not away from him, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him in for a tight hug. Percy's breathing wobbled as he tucked his face into the crook of Grover's neck. He clung tight and desperate. Pleading.

No, he couldn't be a good son anymore. He didn't have to bother keeping in check to avoid the thin line of his mom's lips. But he could be a good friend. To keep the tears out of Grover's eyes, the tremble from his skin.

“I can be good,” he promised quietly, for Grover's ears only. “I promise I can be good.”

“I know,” Grover said. His cheek pressed against Percy's. “I believe you.”

-

The fountain nearby trickled quietly. The steady flow soothed the unease between Percy's shoulders. Still, he squeezed the pillow in his grip tighter to his chest as he watched Grover flit around the bunk closest to him. He snapped the final end of the sheet around the mattress. Hooves clopped quietly against the tile as he stepped back. His gaze flickered between Percy's bed and his own.

Then he grunted and began pushing it closer.

Percy hopped up. The discarded pillow slipped from his fingers and onto the floor. He nearly tripped over it trying to get to Grover's side. They pushed the other bunk over until it was pressed into Percy's.

While Grover unfurled his blanket, Percy stepped back. Awkwardness choked him. He didn't know what to do, what to say. So he picked the pillow off from the floor and pressed it into his chest. Grover didn't spare him many glances as he worked to make up the bed. Leaning across his bunk, he yanked Percy's blanket from between the seam where the two bed frames connected and began tying the edges of both blankets together. It was shoddy work, no way it wasn't coming apart just from them lying on the sheets, much less sleeping.

But Grover did it anyway.

As he shifted back, hooves scraping the floor, Percy held out the pillow. Grover dusted off the top then laid it against the headboard. With both hands on his hips, he admired his work. Percy stared at it too. It was nice. Joined bed. Grover within direct reach.

His palms itched.

“Are you scared of me?”

Grover twisted around. His brows furrowed, but the edges of his lips were quirked upwards. It was reminiscent of school - Percy stumbling over something he read and Grover, lost but amused, over why Percy thought it was a man-of-war that Theseus fought.

He was partially grateful Grover cut him off before he could finish what he actually thought the sentence was trying to say. It certainly wasn't fight.

“I mean,” Grover started and Percy's stomach drew back. Behind him the trickle of the fountain silenced. Like the water was holding its breath too. “I'm scared for other people, but I'm not scared of you.” He punched Percy's arm with a quiet smile. “I know you're not going to hurt me, Percy. That's why I stopped you.”

The fountain began to trickle again. “And that-” He faltered. The ghost Grover's touched goosed up his bicep and across his shoulder. “-that doesn't worry you?”

That you might have to stop me again went unspoken but Grover was always good at understanding Percy's unspoken words, at knowing his unspoken feelings - even the ones Percy wasn't even aware he felt.

He sighed. “It worries me. But not because it's you.” He shook his head. “And definitely not because I'm scared of you hurting me.”

His eyes scanted away, brows furrowing deeper. Then he relaxed into the bed. After teetering on his heels for a couple seconds, Percy joined him. He gripped the edge of his shorts so tight his palms burned. Grover reached over to stroke along the back of his hand.

He exhaled slowly and let go.

“You remember Pan?” Grover asked.

Percy paused. “The satyr god, right?”

“Yeah.” Grover pulled away to tug at his fingers. “He's been missing for a while. Ever since the industrial age took off. And no one knows where he is. It's the dream of every satyr to find him, so that nature can return to the way it was.”

“That your dream?”

He nodded solemnly. “You have to be a Protector first, before you can get your Searcher’s license. But I'm not like the others.” His gaze fell down. His hands sat in his lap, cupped around nothing but air. “I don't want him just so we can bring nature back to its peak.” He sighed. “We were a lot different when Pan was still around. More free. More wild. I want satyrs and nymphs - all of us to be us again!”

Percy leaned into him. “What's stopping you?”

Grover snorted. “People forgot. We were more than just Pan's disciples. We fought to protect the wild from mankind. We didn't just sit around waiting for him to tell us what to do. But nobody wants to do anything.” He scowled. “They think when Pan returns he'll fix it all and I-” He bit his lip, then shook his head. “The world has changed. And gods don't get involved like that. Not to the extent they want him to. It's not in their nature. But if he comes back then maybe…”

He faced Percy. His eyes were watery, darkening the already dark brown of his eyes into shots of black. The welled tears glistened ever so slightly. Like the night sky, free of pollution.

His lips wobbled into a gentle smile. “But that's why I'm not afraid. You’re like nature at its purest form - chaotic, wild, unburdened.”

Normally those words wouldn't hit Percy as compliments. Insults, degradation - things that would deflate him and make his mom frown. But Grover sounded so earnest, his heart swelled.

“You can't tell, but I can feel it.” He swung his arm over Percy's shoulders and tugged him in close. “Your demigod essence, this sense of the wild that I've been searching for my whole life.” He gestured loosely. “Even the Demeter kids don't have that. Their mom is all agriculture and farming and that's great and all, but it's not pure nature, it's not the wild.” He squeezed Percy's shoulder as best he could with one hand. “You remind me of home, Percy.”

The frog Percy hadn't noticed in his throat jumped out with a burst sob-laugh. He tried to tile away, but Grover just tugged him close, bringing around his other arm to keep Percy pinned. Nonetheless his hold was fairly loose, like Percy was a stray cat he didn't want scratching him if he felt like running.

Or like he knew that Percy was the ocean through and through, unwilling to be contained, wanting to flow wherever he saw fit.

Percy practically crawled into his lap, sniffling into Grover's shoulder. Warm hands stroked up and down his back. He laughed quietly - a half-distressed noise marrying the sound, but managed a breathy wheeze of, “You remind me of home too.”

Grover kissed the top of his head. For the first time since arriving, he shattered. All his twisted up emotions committed out in a tidal wave of tears and broken gasps. All the while Grover held him. As tight as Percy clung to him, he didn't complain. Just held on even tighter. Wetness from Grover's own tears smeared across Percy's skin.

Ever the empathetic. Like his mom.

Percy squeezed his eyes shut. “Please don't leave without saying goodbye,” he begged in a hollow, hoarse whisper.

“I won't,” Grover promised.

They held onto each other even as tears and cries faded away. Grover kept stroking his back with both hands. Percy continued to cling.

Shoulders shaking, Percy wound the fabric of Grover's shirt over his fingers. After a few minutes of toiling silence, he whispered. “I think I'm changing.” He pressed his forehead to Grover's collarbone. “I'm scared.” He pulled back and stared into Grover's eyes. “What do I do?”

“Be my best friend,” Grover said, like it was the simplest answer in the world. And as soon as the words fell off his tongue, it did. How silly was Percy not to think of it before? “My best friend is a good person, the best kind of wild.”

“I can do that,” Percy promised. “I swear, I can do that.”

“I know,” Grover said, squeezing Percy's cheek. His thumb swiped away at a still wet tear under Percy's eye. The stroke was soft, gentle. Kind. “I believe you.”

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 774: Kiji, coming!!

Pag 1

1: Welcome, to the Emperor's throne!!

My aim is the double crown!!

Pag 2

4: Ahhh... you're fast, the two of you

I thought I could catch you for sure at 2km left

Pag 3

1: But it took me until “1km left”, yon!!

Pag 4

3: Ah!?

He

4: caught up!? Who....

Pag 5

1: who the hell are you!?

2: The two people in the lead are taking the curve and passing the sign that says that there's 1km left until the sprint line.....

Pag 6

1: No, it's three people!!

Three people passed the “1km left” sign!!

2: There's more people!? Since when!?

Wasn't it two people!?

What happened!? Who's that? That jersey-

At the last curve, suddenly-

3: It's not “who are you”....!!

Dammit!! I know!! This guy!!

Pag 7

1: There's one more person who we need to pay special attention to

2: Gunma Ryousei's third year, Kiji Kyuui

3: Ohh, Kiji? Who's that

Oi, I already told you about this in advance, Manami!! Come on, at the sea

Is that so?

4: What's your data about him?

5: There's basically no record of him in road racing

6: He's an..... “assassin” from the MTB world, huh

7: Is he aiming for the goal?

8: Yeah.... the goal...

That's right....

We should be glad

Pag 8

1: That he's only aiming for the goal

2: Hayaaaa!!

3: Dammit!! The first result.... so you're aiming for the sprint too!?

4: Since they said you were aiming for the goal I thought you were a climber like Manami!!

Pag 9

1: Let's speed up, Orange!! He'll catch up!!

2: I've seen it before!! This guy's jersey

3: That day.... he appeared suddenly on that bike with the thick tires

Pag 10

1: It's the guy who chased Onoda-san and the Hakogaku guy with the bouncy hair!!

2: Before that, Onoda-san said they were friends and that he's “strong”!!

3: He's coming to catch up to

4: mine and San-na's battle

Pag 11

1: He really is strong!!

Let's switch, I'll pull!!

Pag 12

1: Orange!!

3: They're in tune

You have amazing judgment and explosive power!!

4: When I caught up at the last curve

5: Even though they could have also accepted me and made me join them

Without making eye contact or calling out to each other, in an instant at the same time they made the decision

6: that they would “cooperate” to leave me behind!! Yon!!

You're really....

Pag 13

4: What's that

He's lowering his stance and pushing on the handles like he's about to dance....!!

5: Hayaaaa

Pag 14

1: You're really close friends!!

Pag 15

4: He lined up to us in one go!?

Pag 16

1: This guy!! Was it an optical illusion? Just now, I saw something like a cloud of dust behind me

2: Takadajou told us this

Be careful

3: I've been told that the power that a MTB rider can produce in a short time

4: is 1.5 times that of a road racing cyclist

5: This guy can match this top speed!?

8: Ah!?

9: Huh!?

Pag 17

2: In between!?

He came in between!?

Ah!?

3: You bastard, usually when one catches up he joins in the back

Pag 18

1: It's road racing theory!!

4: This guy doesn't know the theory?

5: 800m left until the sprint line!!

6: 1

Pag 19

1: 2

What's this- San-na, did this guy suddenly started counting

2: What's this

The sign for an attack?

3: 3

Pag 20

2: Alright, I recovered

5: Well then, I'll go

Pag 21

1: Ahead, yon

2: So it really was a sign for attacking!!

Who's that guy!!

[sinclarify]

if i was in disventure camp or total drama id freak out over every single challenge and just generally be annoying as hell and everyone would hate me and id get voted off instantly

[fullscoreshenanigans]

*The Grace Field kids at each plant share the same surname, the other farms don't **Certain groups of kids adopt the same surname, but it's not based on their farm of origin

My thoughts on this from another post:

Grace or Gracefield feels like it would have too much baggage [for a surname] (unless whatever agency is doing this goes over their heads and does it anyway; the mixed bag of bitterness that could crop up from these people still seeing them as bound to that place when they altered fate to flee it), but I could get behind the kids in each Grace Field plant sharing a surname, Grand Valley kids sharing a surname, and then so on with Glory Bell, Goodwill Ridge, and Lambda. From purely an aesthetic perspective, it's cute thinking of the older kids initially trying to pick out ones for themselves, and then the younger siblings latching onto ones they're picking so they can remain close before they all eventually decide to come to a group decision. A legal one would probably take precedence though. At the very least, I feel the older Grace Field kids would want to ensure they had a say in the future of the younger ones, and this would be an additional layer of claim to that which is conveniently citable. The mass production farms are where it becomes more complicated with each one's size, but for convenience they might opt for this as well. Plus if any child wants to change their name in the future, that's always an option too.