I Feel Like Archie Got Loaned A Switch And Is Currently Addicted To Like. Pokémon Crossing Or Something

"Keep 'em? That's generous of ya. I hope I won't be needin' them soon, though, but it might take a bit."

So they knew who he was. Doesn't surprise him too much, but still. He figured he'd introduce himself anyway. "Yer Ree, righ'? The Champ?"

Could probably kick his ass. Not that he was worried about it too much. He was a changed man, and tried his best to be good... even if it was hard sometimes.

“I know who you are.”

Ree thinks about tossing the bottle, but … they’ve got no depth perception, and they wouldn’t be able to accurately throw it. So they step forward and place it on the bedside— keeping a safe but respectable distance.

“… here. They should help, or somethin. Take two at first if it really hurts.”

A pause. Ree’s chest itches a little bit.

“You can keep it. You pro’lly need it more than me.”

"Thank ya."

He might sound sarcastic here, and maybe he is a tiny bit (he hasn't forgotten their first interaction), but he's also kinda grateful for a distraction right now. Archie sits up a little, blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"So... I've gotta say, you've got a nice team goin' here. Real good people. Feels like a family." He misses that. A lot.

Oh this COCK.

"...fine."

He's sitting down. Arms crossed, practically slouched on the nearest chair, giving him a sign as to say 'let's get this shit going'.

"--Okay??" Well, she's off... So he tosses the bag to the side of the bed again. Now he can only hope for the best.

"Nope! No money required ! I will be right back! I will see what I can get!"

With that she was off like a zubat out of hell.

changed the blog theme to something else for now so my pages are accessible ))

@livingshinycharm has a solution to boredom: Pushes a paddle ball under the door toward the tub.

"..." Well, he appreciates the effort, even if he'd rather not leave the tub right now. Maybe he'd pick it up later? "Thanks, scamp."

"...Until I feel better?"

"BWAHAHAHA!!" So he was planning on starting shit with him when he felt better? Now that's funny. No, really, it hurts to laugh but fuck he's doing it. At this rate he's gonna pop his stitches.

"Lookin' forward to it." Archie grins, leaning a little closer. Been a while since he had a good fist fight, and a laugh, too.

"...I guess I can't force ya t'like me, tho'. Jus' felt like ya'd understand me a bit. Even if I'm a merfolk."

"Daaamn, really? Who would've thought bein' forced to be nice doesn't woooork."

Hey, he's shit at that. Who gives a shit. As far as he knows, he's not yelling or insulting him, so that's nice enough.

"Dude, don't flatter yourself. I don't hate ya.

Just don't like ya." a shrug "Simple as."

For no reason at all, of course. ...at least until he offers to punch him?!

"--huh??? Nah, hey-- nah. I promised Plumes I wasn't gonna start shit until ya feel better, and I'm fuckin' not taking a punch in the face and just sit here like, hoh, thank you for the free therapy!"

"How has it been weeks since I started playin' this game..." He's still playing Pokémon Crossing...

"Warned ya." Can't kick him out for this then, right? He leans in closer... and bites his neck.

What's with this tension lads.

"What?"

He's leaning closer. Let's pretend he's doing it to assert dominance or whatever.

"Scared?"

inbox call! ))

Archie lets out a soft gasp at the push, staring in bewilderment for a split second, before his grin reappears.

So they were doing this.

Thankfully he's healing up just fine, so he has less of an issue shifting his tail into legs. Still, the cheekfins and sharp teeth remain. Was it because he thought it looked cool? Or was it because it was still a bit of an effort to shift back to a human form fully? Doesn't matter much.

Still... He's not gonna be forced down so easily. He refuses to give up without a fight.

So he gently reaches for Guzma's sides, before suddenly and roughly trying to roll over on the bed so he comes out on top.

Well fuck. He got you there bug boy.

"Shut the fuck--!", he starts, any complaints muffled in the umpteenth kiss. And hairpull.

…okay. We're gonna sit here and let the fish manhandle us for much longer, Guzma? Absolutely fucking not. Still keeping contact and not really caring if that would lead to a much harsher grip on either his throat or hair ( whatever, man, it's not like he doesn't like it! ), obe of Guzma's hands pressed harshly on the other's chest, pushing him down - taking control of the situation.