#this starter is Bad

[sunrisesfromthewest]

First Encounter Part 5

Warnings: SMUT+18,Armando finally getting that 🐱,R-rated Language ,Armando causal taking a piss like it’s normal between y’all 😂Very little Breeding kink,Shower Sex, (Poor Kitty Abandoned and Marcus still traumatized by his decision😭) Previous Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6

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As you enter the shower you moan in relief as the hot water cascades against your exhausted body. Soaking up the heat, that is now surrounding you, you grab your exfoliating sheet and favorite body wash, eager to wash off today's stress and worries. 

As you run the soapy sheet against your legs you couldn’t help but to let your mind wander to the steamy make out sesh with Armando. Running your hands over your thighs you sigh with need, ”Damn..maybe I should’ve asked him to join me.”  

Continuing your shower routine, you began to hear water running, confused you take a peek from around the curtain only to freeze at the sight before you. Armando stood in front of the toilet; shirt tucked under his chin, tan muscled stomach flexing slightly, as he peed. 

Eyes trailing down his figure you let out a gasp as he turned, giving you a beautiful view of his thick lengthy member. Hearing a gasp Armando looks up only to see you gazing at him, specially at a certain body part. "Enjoying the view, princess.", he says with a smug look while shaking his member lightly before tucking himself back in his boxers. 

Realizing you been caught you pull the shower curtain back, blocking his view as you yell, "Why didn’t you knock!” 

Hearing a laugh and a flush, you step back away from the water already knowing that it would briefly become cold before returning back to its normal temp. “The real question is do you want me to join you, princess.” tensing at his words, you stop, brain spitting out multiple reasons on why you should decline, but you feel a light throb between your legs at his offer. 

Sticking your head out the shower, you see him drying his hands, while leaning against your bathroom sink. Brown eyes meeting yours while he gives you a teasing smile,” What’s it gonna be mamá?” 

Biting your lip trying to contain your smile, you open the curtain partcially,allowing him to get a view of your chest. Watching as the water rundown the valleys of your pretty brown breast, Armando releases a hungry growl,” Definitivamente te voy a dejar embarazado, cariño(I'm definitely getting you pregnant).” 

Giggling in excitement as you see him strip, you move back under the water, thanking your past self for getting the wet and wavy sew ins. Watching as his tan sun kissed body steps in the shower with you, you let out a sigh in anticipation and admiration. 

“Are you sure that this is what you want,cuz once I start ain’t no stopping." he says as he wraps his arms around your waist pulling you into him. Moaning from the embrace you nod your head not trusting your voice at the moment. “Don’t go mute on me Y/N, I need to hear your pretty mouth say yes."  

Lifting up your chin, with a single finger, your brown eyes connect with his, "Use your words, mamá”.Letting out a breathy yes, Armando brings you into a sloppy kiss, arms wrapping around his neck you run a hand against his head pressing him forward. 

Sucking on his tongue, Armando groans into the kiss, body shaking from the sensation, hands gripping your waist he pulls you closer grinding against you. Not breaking the kiss, he nips at your full lips, while giving your ass a smack. "Keep teasing me like that Y/N and Imma make sure you have a limp while you attempt to walk.", he says in between kisses. 

Shuddering from his words you pull back running your hands against his firm pecks” Promise", you say already feeling dazed by the kiss alone. Feeling his dick jump at your words, you smile trailing a hand down his wet chest and pass his stomach.  

Hearing him release a sigh, you began to jerk him off, wrist moving up and down, at a slow pace. Moaning he grips your ass harder, sucking at your neck while deeply muttering, “"Te lo prometo… A la mierda nena…. ¡Lo prometo!(I promise.... fuck baby.... I promise!)” 

Tracing your thumb over his tip, you feel him shiver against you, while you rub his precum against him member. Armando bites your neck, while trailing kisses down your chest, feeling him flick your nipple with his tongue made you moan loudly.  

He growls as he began to nip, suck and bite your breast: listening as he sucks on your breast made you slick between your legs. As he gives the same attention to the other breast you feel his hand wonder down to your inner thighs.  

Gasping he begins to rub your clit in hard circular motions, throwing your head against the shower wall you moan, which only seemed to make him move faster. Moving away from your breast his eyes darken as he watches your expression change, "You like that baby, does it feel good." he says eyes trained on you waiting for a reply. 

 To loss in the sensation, you failed to hear what he said resulting in him pinching your clit,gulping you say, "What?" Smirking at your loss expression he says,”Y/N you better start listening or this is going to be a long night." Nodding your head, you feel him roughly rub your clit,”What I say about that nodding, shit.” Sighing as he begins to run his fingers through your wet folds, you moan while saying "Okay, Daddy!" Feeling his hands freeze you look up at him confused on why he stopped.  

Licking his lip he gives you an intense stare, "What you just say, baby?”, blinking as you watch his eyes switch to predatory, you say Daddy raising an eyebrow. Seeing you give him a confused innocent look only made him, harder as he grabs your left leg wrapping it around his waist.  

“Say it again,” he says rubbing his thick length between your wet folds, blinking you look into his eyes moaning Daddy. Armando grinds into you hard repeating his words, again as he kisses your moist lips.  

Kissing him harder your breath hitches as his tip rubs against your clit.” No sabes lo que me estás haciendo, princesa(You don't know what you do to me,princess),” he says chuckling darkly, "I haven’t even given you my dick yet and your already about to cum.” 

 Trembling from his words and his merciless grinding you kiss at his neck begging. "What you want baby?” he says as he hears you plead, while dragging his dick against you, "Use your words, I ain’t telling you again.” Smacking your ass hard, he waits for your reply, "I want you inside of me!" you whine as you feel a stinging sensation from the slap. 

Carefully picking you up Armando presses you against the shower wall, body getting soaked by the shower head. Giving you a soft kiss on the lips, he presses his toned body against your soft one while grabbing his member eagerly. Lining his tip up with your entrance he asked if you were ready. 

“I’m more than ready, Mando.” you say sucking at his neck, while running your nails against his back. After hearing you confirm that you were ready, he pushes in the tip letting out a shaky sigh. Reaching a hand up to grab your chin he pulls you into a bruising kiss, as he eases his thick dick into your wet pussy,inch by inch. 

“Damn,baby you taking my dick so good." he groans, voice deep and raspy. "I barely done anything to you,Y/N and your pussy is soaking!" Wrapping your thick legs around his tan waist tighter, as he begins to slide in and out of you, made you shiver with pleasure. 

“If this was any other time, I would’ve made you wear a condom," you say in between pants, while kissing his shoulder. Gripping your ass harder, he starts drilling into your shit,which in return caused you to hold onto him for dear life. 

“Cariño, este coño es mío, ya no tienes que preocuparte por la protección.(Baby, this pussy is mine, you don't have to worry about protection no more.)”, he says growling in your ear, while pounding into you. 

You couldn’t tell if it was water or slick running, down your legs but the way your body was twitching against him, leaned you more towards the second option. Gasping as he hit a certain area had you moaning like crazy, while throwing your head back.  

"Is that it baby....is that the spot." He said thrusting into you, more anxious to see you come on done. Locking your low lidded brown eyes with his dilated ones almost made you cum on the spot. Running a hand through his hair you give him light praises, while shifting your hips against his hungrily. 

“Fuck,right their baby.... you're making me feel so good!" you said trying your best to grind against him from the position you were in. Clenching around him, you set one of your legs on the shower floor, attempting to meet his thrust with your own, as he hits that spot again. 

“I’m close Mando...so fucking close!" you said kissing at his neck, while reaching between y'all to rub your swollen clit. “Damn it, baby, I can feel you gripping me, warm pussy just sucking me up......and the noises your making is driving me crazy......” he says, breathless, thrusting harder as he tries to hold back and savor the feeling of being inside of you. 

 Your orgasm sneaking up on you caused you to throw your head back, eyes closed as you let out a loud moan, body freezing up. Kissing against your open mouth, his movements begin to studder as he feels you clench around his dick hard. Gulping he talks you through it, "There you go baby... just like that...keep sucking in my cock, baby......I'm so close!"

Hammering into you he chases after his on release, pulling your head back by your hair as he attacked your already bruising neck. Becoming overstimulated you didn’t know whether to push him away or pull him into you. As he gets close to the edge his thrusting turn into a frantic uncoordinated thrust, he asked you where you wanted him to cum. 

Mind to fucked to think straight you mumble, "Inside....I want you.... inside." Hearing you say that sent him over the edge as he cums,inside you ,hips stuttering, eyes squeezed shut as he holds onto you tightly. 

Laying boneless against him while the now warm water trails, down your combined bodies had you relaxed. Pulling you closer to him, as he rocked against you, had your nerves trembling, thrusting up once more into you, made you slap his back. 

Letting out a breathless laugh, he asked if you were okay, moving his head back to look at your flustered fucked out expression." Peaches and cream......literally, "you say giving him a content but teasing smile. 

Bursting out laughing, he reached for what he assumed was your body wash and proceed to rub the soap against your body, opting to use his now wrinkled tan hands. Pouring some in your wrinkled hand as well you began massaging it in to his skin. 

Once you two were done washing each other bodies (more like groping), you turn off the water and stepped out the shower with shaky legs. Grabbing two towels out your cabinet you handed Armando one, which he accepted, and begin drying off. 

Wrapping a small towel around your head, you paused in realization, "Where's my baby at?” Towel wrapped low around his waist ,he smiles brightly, "Like I said I wanted to play with his mamá pus-” not even giving him the chance to finish, you walk away or at least attempt to, in search of your abandoned kitty. 

Meanwhile....... 

Kelly and Dorn have returned to their lake house after saving Rita who was almost killed by Lockwood. Kelly looks around for you to see if you can check out Rita's bruises, but is only left confused when you and..... Armando is nowhere in sight. 

Kelly walks up to Marcus to ask where you went; who she just noticed bawled up on the couch looking traumatized, "Hey, did Y/N go to her house?” Mike looks up as he heard the question but before he was able to cut in, Marcus still bawled up started rocking, whispering quietly. 

Kelly screws her face together, not quiet hearing him, Dorn walks over to see what is going on but is pulled back by Mike who sent him a ‘trust me on this’ look.

Grabbing his shoulder to ask what’s wrong, Marcus sits up suddenly, giving Kelly a dead serious look, "You think Latino Mike is going to force my baby to birth little gangsters?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note:I ain’t even gonna lie y’all,I struggle so hard writing this😃,I never realized how hard it was to write Smuts…………………………………..

But for now Imma stick to reading them hopefully y’all enjoy💕💕💕(I tried y’all 😭😭)

[sergle]

color accuracy is lost bc of lighting but this was the start of the granny blanket project, I gotta take another progress picture when I knock out a significant amount

[front-facing-pokemon]

[zahri-melitor]

Tim suffers from a situation where he occasionally commits thought crime (thinks about how killing someone would be easier/how he would like someone to be dead/plans out how to kill someone) but does the right thing in person, and doesn't kill people and will act heroically to save even the lives of villains and people he hates. Which gets him cancelled as lacking in morals and being 'two seconds from killing at any time'. While someone like Jason, who commits actual crimes in person but validates the reasons for doing it in his head, gets lauded for why killing drug dealers is excellent and should be morally correct.

Maybe it's a bit law and justice and rules follower of me, but thinking the bad thoughts and still doing the right thing is a better approach than doing the bad thing while telling yourself it's for the right reasons actually.

Actions are more important than what you say in the privacy of your own mind. That's the bit other people can see and interpret.

[themyscirah]

What runs/stories do you recommend for someone starting WW? Could you please be specific (/nicely)

Yeah ofc!

My Wonder Woman Starter Recs (specific style 😎)

First stops: for an initial introduction to Wonder Woman, I'd generally recommend going to at least one of three places first. These three are:

Wonder Woman: Historia: The Amazons by Kelly Sue DeConnick

Wonder Woman: Year One by Greg Rucka

Wonder Woman: the Hiketeia by Greg Rucka

Of these I generally recommend reading Historia first, as it's a retelling of the origin of the Amazons as a race and how Diana came to be (so it essentially starts from the beginning) and is also the most recent of the them (if that means anything). Something to note about Historia though is that it's a DC Black Label book, so it's events aren't strictly canon in the main DCU and there are some changes and new elements present. I don't think this is something that should discourage anyone from reading it though, it's the best WW origin story out there, and even in strict main canon over the years her origin is one that has had many fluctuations and small (& sometimes big) changes. WW:Historia is three prestige format (longer) issues.

You'll notice the third book there is WW: The Hiketeia. Hiketeia is a great book if you're looking for a view into Diana as a professional and experienced hero. It's a graphic novel so standalone and not too long, and has a great Diana and really interesting plot (Diana vows to protect a young woman and finds herself pressed against the wheels of Greek Tragedy). This is also the first work with Diana done by Greg Rucka, one of her most prolific and loved writers. A sampling of this work (and also Historia) I think gives a good guide to where to go next in terms of runs on her main title.

Wonder Woman: Year One is the second book on the list up there, but I'm mentioning it last here as it's a bit more complicated in terms of format. Unlike other year one books, WW: Year One is actually a series of issues on her main title, showcasing Diana's arrival to man's world in Rebirth (and also current p sure) continuity. The issue numbering for this one is strange (only the even issues 2-14 on WW (2016)) so I recommend looking for this in trade form if possible.

These 3 books I think give a taste of some of the best standalone stuff in the Wonder Woman mythos, and give the reader a good idea of where they may want to go next in terms of longer runs on the title. So I'll break that down here as a Step 2.

STEP 2: WHERE NEXT?

Here I break down some highly recommended runs based on what they have in common with the standalone books from step 1. As a rule, these runs are going to be much longer than the above and generally more connected to the wider DCU and other books. Look for the italics to see the introduction to each new work. Explanation paragraphs follow after each italic/bold rec.

Curious about Greek mythology in WW and the Amazons' origins after reading Historia? Liked the prescence of a supporting cast and Diana learning about Man's World from Year One? Willing to read a longer run? I recommend: Wonder Woman by George Pérez

George Pérez's time on Wonder Woman totally reinvented the character after Crisis on Infinite Earths, and is fundamental in establishing many core concepts of her lore. At 62 issues, 2 annuals, and a 4-issue crossover event at the end (War of the Gods), it's definitely a commitment to read, but it's the most enduring and well-loved run on Wonder Woman for a reason--it's just that damn good. Lots of focus on mythology (although with a lighter tone than Historia) alongside Diana learning her role in relation to Man's World & establishing herself as a hero and ambassador. Pérez's run also has almost-certainly the most expansive and developed supporting cast in WW comics, something that really drives the emotional core of the series, especially in later issues. Obligatory note that this series was written between 1987 and 1992 and contains some very occasional aspects that I thought were in some way dated/uncomfortable etc. while reading (details of Cheetah's origin, depiction of the Bana-Mighdall, Hercules) but despite that I still highly, highly recommend this run. The word fundamental cannot begin to describe it.

Liked the experienced Diana of the Hiketeia? Interested to see her attempt to balance the high stakes responsibilities of an ambassador and superhero? Looking for some really badass moments and fights? Haven't read enough terrible tragedy? I suggest: Wonder Woman by Greg Rucka 2003 EDITION.

Some of Diana's coolest moments of all time are collected here. Also one of her most controversial. The 1st Rucka run is very much the story for anyone who liked the Diana of the Hiketeia and the tragedy of that and Historia. 2003 Rucka Diana is a Diana tested, forced to make decisions that are anything but easy, and live with the consequences. She's extraordinarily capable, but her enemies know that and are prepared to that end. This run, along with the Pérez run, rank among my favorite Wondy comics of all time (those and Historia are my top 3). This run is such peak Diana, especially in terms of sheer badassery. Her final confrontation with Medusa is in my opinion perhaps the greatest Wonder Woman fight scene of all time. Her encounter with Athena in the second-to-last issue breaks me every time. Cannot recommend this book more.

*a note abt this run is that it is more context-dependent than the other ones listed here, as it's the run that finishes out the Wonder Woman vol. 2 book and so has some guest appearances from characters introduced in other prior runs (Artemis of Bana-Mighdall, Cassie Sandsmark, and Vanessa Kapatelis, to name a few). I read this run before knowing much (if anything) about any of them, and still enjoyed it a lot, so I wouldn't be worried about this really but just thought I'd mention it.

Rucka's 2003 run is published from Wonder Woman (1987) #195-226. You can also find it in trade and I believe(?) omnibus. Sometimes the Hiketeia is included in collections of this series, as the 03 run is thematically similar in many places, just with a much deeper look at Diana and the world & with higher stakes.

Liked the specific characters and plot threads of Wonder Woman: Year One? Want to see what happens with Diana's exile, or learn more about Barbara Ann? Want a Diana in between the extremes of young and highly experienced? Wonder Woman by Greg Rucka 2016 EDITION may be for you.

...yes I'm putting ANOTHER Rucka book on here. He writes a great Diana, what can I say. This run is the same one that Year One came out of, just the follow ups to that story and versions of the characters. I have this run listed as separate from Year One though, as there's some really big time skips since the events of that first volume. A lot of time has passed since then, and there's more history between the characters, not all of it without drama. This run continues to be weird with the numbering, as well as some artist changes, so I definitely recommend looking into reading this in trade format (physical or digital) if at all possible. My recommended reading order is WW 2016 by Rucka vol. 2 "The Lies" (Wonder Woman: Rebirth Special #1, followed by 2016 main title odd numbered issues 1-11), then Rucka 16 vol. 3 "The Truth" (odds 13-23) then Godwatch (evens 16 through 24) followed by 25? But The Truth and Godwatch combine near the end so that doesn't really work either. This run is so good but recommending it is such a pain because the numbering is so all over the place. On God I never know which order to read this in. Going to revoke my previous statement and say read it as Rebirth Special 1, then only odds 1 through 11, then from 13 through 25 normally. That may lead to some weirdness as you read because the two stories take place at different times and have different art styles, but they come together at the end pretty dramatically so I think it's less confusing to read it this way? Maybe? So strange bc this is one of the go to good starter runs and yet it's set up so unintuitively. If someone has a better way to read this then let me know and ill edit, ik this explanation is super confusing bc neither way to read it is totally ideal imo and I feel I definitely read it in a weird order.

Going to call that a good rundown of some of my greatest recommendations in terms of Wonder Woman comics. If anything wasn't fully clear here or anyone (not just anon) has questions or wants to talk abt WW comics/my choices feel free to send as many asks or dms as you want. Have a good day everybody, & as Diana says, may the glory of Gaea be with you <3

[toebeansandotherbaes]

Wolves of Tantiss (open rp starter with werewolf Tech and Crosshair)

Tech stood, his legs only shaking slightly, and walked to the garden wall of their home on Pabu. He and Crosshair were still recovering from their wounds from rescuing Omega again from Hemlock. Although much of their wounds had been healed by the time they arrived on Pabu weeks ago. Crosshair was still dealing with phantom limb and Tech had developed a small verbal tick from the torment he had endured under Hemlock.

But their physical injuries had healed cleanly and quickly. It was strange, but both Crosshair and Tech were under many experiments by Hemlock, to make them perfect soldiers. Tech assumed one of the many injections and experiments were accelerated healing along with the cure for the accelerated aging, of which Tech was quick to steal and replicate.

Tech pushed the concerns from his mind as he watched the sun set, the "Golden Hour" of Pabu. He turned and called to his siblings.

"It is almost t-t-t-time." He called, one cheek twitching with the word causing the tick.

[cos-latte]

♡

[whispers-whump]

giving up on whumpee dialogue prompts

“I can’t do this anymore”

“I’m starting to think you just don’t want to be helped”

“I don’t know what you want from me”

“Again with this?”

“Why am I working so hard if you’re not even going to try?”

“It’s just too much for me to handle”

“Maybe it would be better if I just left”

“Honestly, I give up”

“I don’t know what you want me to say”

“How many times do we have to go through this?”

“Fine, if you don’t care, then I don’t either”

“Get professional help, because I’m not doing this anymore”

“I feel like you’re doing it on purpose at this point”

feel free to add on!

[arsenicflame]

so. anyone else think this moment was gonna lead to rebound sex? just me???

[cyellolemon]

I wanted to draw some of my fav pokemons!!!! :))

[angeart]

hhau mimic arc rambles - part IV: the inbetween (hot spring bath)

(~5,5 k words) // other parts & au masterpost here

-- a piece of warmth in a cold wasteland (a piece of hope in a nightmare) --

It takes some time, to slowly patch up the wounds on their souls and bury the incessant fears. Scar and Grian have each other, and they aren’t letting go. Not this time. Not again. Never. (Unless we get our hands on this au which, oh, we have. Funny thing—)

It’s now the midst of winter, and they huddle from shelter to shelter, clothes wet from snow, progress slow as they have to constantly try and cover their marks. The food is scarce, and they’re using every trick Juni taught them in late autumn to stay safe and not starve. (The thought feels bittersweet, but they don’t linger on it.)

And one day, the sun disappears. [This will be the eclipse bonus ramble, dw about it rn <3]

In the aftermath, they’re both feeling destabilised and unsafe. Grian in particular grows to feel like even more of a liability, becoming quiet and withdrawn. Terrified Scar’d leave him, despite feeling like maybe it'd be for the best if he did. (Best for Scar, that is.)

Scar does his best to divert Grian’s attention from bleak thoughts. He talks about hope, and possibilities, and—most importantly—future. He remembers that one time [in a bonus fic we never finished kjxnb bUT ONE DAY] when Grian mentioned wanting a treehouse. Wanting a permanent place. Somewhere to stretch his wings. Somewhere to be.

He tells him, softly, that come spring, once the trees are less barren, they can try building one. They will do it! Scar will build as many as it takes. Each better than the last!

And one day, they’ll get far enough. And they’ll build one that’ll last. And they’ll be able to stretch their wings, free.

Grian isn’t sure how much he believes that. But he wants to. He wants to.

They wander through the lands, seemingly directionless. The winter is harsh. The violet is bright against the whiteness of the snow and the dark brown of the bare trees. Still, with stolen cloaks, they do their best with the circumstances, never feeling warm or relaxed.

That is, until they stumble upon something rare.

They find a cave that is warm and, curious and seeking shelter, they go in. 

Inside, they find a large cavern with the ceiling caved in, sunlight pooling from the hole down onto a steaming surface of… a hot spring.

Scar gets immensely excited and, without hesitating, dives right in. The warmth is blissful, melting away all the aches and coaxing frost out of his bones. It’s the best thing he’s felt in a long time.

“I’m never getting out of here. You’re gonna have to drag me out. I am willingly turning myself into a raisin.”

Grian, unlike Scar, hesitates. His wings are still dirtied and full of debris, never preened, never touched. Kept dishevelled and dull to try to hide their desirable sheen. Flaring up with discomfort and aches, muscles tense and never stretched, in an attempt to turn them into something that’d be less of a beacon.

Getting them wet would mean washing off months of that effort. (Months of held-in suffering.)

And Grian wants to sink under the water and feel its warmth, relax into it just like Scar does, but he can’t. He can’t get through that mental block. So he just crouches on the side, sad and torn and wistful.

Scar tries to coax him in by assuring Grian they have enough time to dry them (he doesn’t use the word wings). But drying them isn’t the problem. The problem is making them bright again.

Scar doesn’t quite understand what is holding Grian back, but he tries to offer him ways to sidestep it without tacking a name to it. He holds out his hands and opts for goofiness, asking if Grian is shy, promising he’ll close his eyes, as if it was a simple act of undressing that was the problem. He’s trying to offer a simpler anxiety to latch onto, one more easily dealt with.

And despite the anxiety, Grian laughs a little at his antics. It’s barely a laugh, strained around the edges, but the fondness rings so clear through it.

But Scar’s suggestion doesn’t solve Grian’s problem, and Grian is wholly unwilling to name it and put attention to it—to the hopeless way he feels about the weight settled on his back. 

Scar is stubborn and determined, trying to read Grian without pushing too much. He wades to a more shallow part of the pool and softly—and still so very lightheartedly—points out that Grian could take a dip there, feel the warmth, “And only half of you gets turned to raisins.” Endlessly aware of what they’re not saying, words tucked between the lines: Your wings don’t have to get wet.

 Grian eyes the side Scar pointed out with enough suspicion, as if he expected the ground there to be playing a trick on him, in fact not solid at all. Slowly, he uncurls and shuffles over to peer at it, taut yet curious, unsure yet hopeful.

It’s timid, at first. The undressing, the reach for water. But as soon as his skin meets the warmth, yearning shoots through him and he can’t stop himself.

The water splashes in his rush to get in, something that delights Scar immeasurably.

And it’s quickly clear the water is only going to incite him to give in further, setting alight a craving for more. To keep sinking, to submerge all of his body, to melt against its warmth and let it make him stop aching. 

Unable to resist but still unwilling to get his wings wet, he ends up opting to slump himself over Scar’s shoulders, letting most of him dip into the enciting warmth of the water.  

The effect is instant: the warm water eases the hidden pains and tension right off, making Grian huff in relief as his hold on Scar turns lax, trusting Scar to keep him safe. It’s only Grian’s back that keeps some semblance of tension, wings held up above the water line even as the rest of him helplessly melts into it.

And Scar has to ask. Inevitably, the issue cannot be skirted around anymore. “Why don’t you want them wet…?”

Grian’s breath hitches, and just like that, all the tension and anxiety is back. Just like that, he’s pushing away, back upright into the shallow water, and then further, splashing as he goes, until he’s perched at the edge of the pool, safely out of its depths.

Arms wrapped around himself and shivering, Grian tries to breathe through the reminder of everything that’s wrong, everything that he doesn’t want fixed—can’t have fixed—attention pinned to his feathers that he reslots against his spine, dry and as small as possible. 

But there's no sidestepping this anymore.

It’s only when he admits, words miserable and broken, muffled into his palms and edging a sob, that washing the wings would turn them into more of a beacon, that Scar truly starts to understand this.

It was always only implied and never spoken—the topic of feathers always carefully avoided to sidestep the panic lurking just beneath those words—now broken and brought up to the surface for the first time since Grian's freak out on that very first day so long ago. 

It slots together in Scar’s mind now: It’s not just trauma and fear keeping Grian from allowing anyone (including himself) to touch his wings; it’s his unwillingness to brighten what he believes is to be a spotlight that’s made a home on his back. It explains weeks and weeks of unpreened, tucked back wings hidden uncomfortably under the cloak Scar gave him the day they found each other. What Scar thought was a deep-rooted anxiety born from the time they spent apart actually goes much, much deeper. The fear is a constant in Grian’s mind.

Scar pauses, taking the new pieces to the puzzle he’s been offered and pressing them into place, considering the proper approach. “Grian,” he tries again, voice soft. “One little soak isn’t going to make a difference.” (He wishes it would. He wishes Grian would wash them out properly, let them shine like they did before. He’d fight off the whole server if he had to in order to see that once more.) 

Something desperate in Grian is latching onto Scar’s words. He’s begging himself to listen, to give in, to let go, to succumb. He sniffles, dropping his hands a little bit, looking over at Scar, silent plea written into his eyes. Please. Please please please. 

He wants Scar to win him over. To convince him. To yank this tight knot of anxiety and let him breathe.

With a sigh, Scar continues. “We don’t have to wash them, just…” He hates going along with any part of this, but he’s not about to change Grian’s mind so easily. He has to bargain. “... One hour. One hour where you don’t worry so dang much. Just relax, forget everything else. Let me—” He doubts his word choice for a moment, but commits to it, considering them appropriate. “Let me watch your back.”

There’s a pause. And then, from his curled-up position, Grian asks: “One hour?” It’s small, a word just shy of crumbling to dust. He wants this. He needs this. He needs Scar to sway him here. But he can’t just give in. So he asks for more. He asks Scar to promise that this won’t cause anything bad. 

"Nothing bad," Scar assures immediately, even if he doesn't truly have the power to promise that. He'll make it true. He's determined to. "I'll make sure of it. And you just relax."

The words bounce around in Grian’s head.

Nothing bad. I’ll make sure of it.

He sniffles, wrangling the ever-present constraints of anxiety, and then, ever so slowly, he uncurls. His hands drop from his face and his glistening eyes find Scar’s, locking onto them as if Scar was his life raft. “Okay.” 

He isn’t sure he knows how to relax, not where his wings are concerned, but he’s been tense and scared for so long, he’s so tired, so greedy for the idea of it. And if Scar can somehow will it into existence, Grian will do his best to give himself over to him.

It’s slow. Every move hesitant and unsure, every Scar’s word soft and reassuring. He tells Grian it’s just the two of them here. He leads him, step by timid step.

Grian ends up draped over him again, arms wrapped around Scar's shoulders, trying to stifle his fears into his hold of him as they tentatively make progress into the warmth that begs Grian to surrender completely.

Grian’s coherency is slipping from his grasp as the warm water and the security of Scar’s presence take over. He hasn’t allowed himself to relax in so impossibly long, only ever forced by the circumstances. (Feeling faint, being wounded, dizziness pulling him to his knees—) This is different. This is so very different, and he finds himself simultaneously nuzzling against Scar and entirely letting go, his grip growing weak as Scar holds him with his back above water.

Grian’s wings falter and droop the littlest bit. He barely notices it. They’re hovering so, so very close above the waterline.

He hums, and they dip further, and—

He twitches, startled at the sensation of water against his feathers. Running on nothing but well-trained instinct, his wings flap, frantically splashing water.

Scar pulls Grian a little closer, keeping his hands firm and tight so he doesn’t drop him altogether. “Hey, hey, hey it’s okay. I’ve still got you.” He slides one leg out a little wider to maintain balance, continuing to mumble soft shushes. “The water won’t hurt ya, G.”

Grian pulls himself tight against Scar, his wing movements calming somewhat at Scar’s reassurance. They’re left treacherously hovering over the water again, unsure, as Grian buries his face in Scar’s neck, eyes tightly shut. He’s tense again, back at square one, and even the warmth of the water isn’t working enough to lull him out of it.

But Scar says the water won’t hurt him.

He knows that, right? He’s— The water won’t hurt him, it’s just the consequences he’s meant to be afraid of. But Scar already promised those will be okay.

Grian knows Scar doesn’t have the power to promise that.

Still, he tries to wrangle both the rational and irrational parts of his fear.

He breathes heavily, pressed close to Scar, and he whimpers a quiet, very unbrave sounding word: “Down?”

“Yeah?” Scar asks, a little unsure. “Do you— want me to let you down?” He doesn’t move his hands yet.

Feeling the steadiness of Scar's hands, Grian is sure that there won't be anything unexpected; not unless he agrees, nods, gives consent. But his head is so messy, not knowing how to communicate, and he's not sure he won't misstep.

"The wings?" Grian asks, and it's not much more coherent than the original question.

“The—“ Scar tuts his tongue, remembering to take the time to think. He glances over at Grian’s wings, something he very purposely tries not to do typically, but with Grian’s head tucked against his collarbone, he looks them over, curious. “Yeah, yes— you can let them down, G.” A small reassuring press of his fingertips. “Really.”

Grian takes a breath at the encouragement; it's damp and hot, water and scar's skin heating him up, both working on stealing all the tension out of him.

Gingerly and with a tinge of fearfullness, grian relents.

He lets his wings drop.

Tentatively, the feathers meet water. Calmer, this time. Expecting it. 

Grian’s hold on Scar doesn't exactly tense up, but his fingers curl, feebly looking for a tidbit of purchase, something to hold onto as his wings spread and sprawl, rippling the water, floating atop it, and— And it's so warm and it feels so good to stretch them, to let them be without force and without pressure and—

There's a half-sob, something small and all too relaxed and relieved, as looseness floods through Grian. His fingers uncurl and he sags further against Scar, whimpering quietly without any real distress. 

Scar can’t help the bright, genuine grin that spreads across his face at this success, even despite the small sobbing sounds—because he knows, he knows it’s from overwhelming relief. He had half a mind to cry when he first stepped foot in the water, so he can only imagine how Grian feels right now. “Shhh, good, good,” Scar coos, pressing a soft kiss into Grian’s hair. “Still got you.”

Grian makes a jumble of incoherent sounds at Scar's praise, melting further into the warmth. His eyes are closed and his muscles loosen bit by bit, aches stolen from them. He's not working to support any of his weight anymore, surrendering it all to Scar and to the water. He doesn't even register his wings fully; they float, and it makes them feel numb and nonexistent in the best of ways. 

Loose feathers and dirt drift across the surface, the spot near Grian growing murkier.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Scar whispers, not wanting to disturb Grian’s moment of bliss here. He eyes the spot where the water darkens from the dirt and debris coming free from Grian’s wings, trying not to let it affect his mood, tug at his heart. 

He wishes he could rake his fingers through the feathers and dislodge all the uncomfortable things that poke and prod at Grian on a daily basis. We wants to hold him closer and take care of him, wash all the troubles away, but—

Baby steps, he reminds himself. 

Grian's mind is hazy, all of him melting into the warmth bit by bit. (He doesn't remember the last time he was warm.) He feels engulfed and cradled, held and supported, and it makes him want to drift off. He's melting further into it, eyes closed and mind pleasantly dazed. He thinks he might just stay here forever. (The insides of his wings are warm warm warm; the water gently bobs them, the muscles loosening after months of being stiff and taut.)

It reminds Grian of what it feels like to be comfortable. (He isn't sure he can quite grasp it; the feeling seems too big for his comprehension.) He lets out a long, reverberating hum, almost purr-like, sinking further into the water. His eyes are still closed. He's secure in the knowledge that Scar's still here, he's got him. everything is okay.

Everything is more than okay.

"'m gonna live like a raisin," he says as a vague threat, or a promise, or— or something. Something mildly delirious. He's never getting out of this lake. It's too nice. He's going to stay here and submerge himself in bliss and escapism.

“Yes!” Scar croaks out amidst some airy laughter. “Join me in the raisin life, Grian!” 

Scar's laughter echoes around Grian, setting bright, joyful sparks behind grian's ribcage. He could listen to that sound forever.

While keeping his arms in place, supporting Grian so that he doesn’t sink entirely, Scar ducks his face back underwater and blows some bubbles, loving the feeling of having semi-clean skin for the first time in far too long.

Grian hears the bubbles. Curiosity gets him to crack one eye open, only to see it's just Scar being silly. Unbridled, a laughter spills from him and— He's laughed before, sure. Here and there, they’ve had their moments. But never before has his laughter felt so light in this world. Unburdened.

Scar’s ears flick attentively and he pokes his head back out to share a grin— practically beaming at Grian due to the delightful sound. It’s a genuine Grian giggle and Scar is loving it. It rings like victory, dancing across the air. Scar feels like he’s won a tiny battle. (And it’s a much-needed win at that.) 

“Seriously,” Scar says, smile still pressing at the edges of his cheeks. “Dunk your head in— it feels amazing.”

The idea doesn't seem as daunting as before. Encouraged by Scar's delighted grin, Grian can't help but wish to oblige.

His wings flutter a little, and then he's tilting himself, taking a breath. No more warning is given before he fully submerges his head.

The water rushes around him, muffling the world instantly. It's warm all around him.

Just like Scar before, Grian also brings his arms to rub at his hair, reveling in the feeling until he needs to come up for air. He pushes his now-wet hair out of his face and blinks, before he settles with twinkling eyes set on scar, a wild grin on his lips. "I did it!" And he finds that he wants to do it again.

“Isn’t our hair disgusting?” Scar says, laughing and smiling like that’s somehow a good thing. 

"It’s sooo gross," Grian agrees with a laugh. He drifts closer, reaching out to run his fingers into Scar's wet hair and rub at his scalp, wanting him to feel nice.

Scar makes an approving, happy hum and leans into the touch. “And you’d touch the gross hair? Wow, you must like me or something. How embarrassing,” Scar croons, grinning with all his teeth as he pesters Grian.

A growling noise rolls out of grian, but it sounds wrong, soft and unthreatening. He grins right back, and he moves closer, gaze flicking to Scar's lips. "Yeah. I guess I do like you. Or something." And then he presses on Scar, pouncing to use his own weight to push Scar under water. "But you should really wash them some more," he notes playfully with a laugh.

Scar barks out a half-yelp half-laugh as he’s submerged, bubbles rising to the surface until the noise escapes the watery prison when he comes back up. ”Wow,” Scar grumbles, absolutely no bite to his bark. “And here I was being so nice.”

Completely unphased by Scar's grumble, Grian cackles. And then he leans forward, hands settling on the sides of Scar's jaw as both of them drip water. 

Grian's eyes close and he kisses Scar.

“Oh,” Scar’s mouth barely forms the words before he’s pressing closer, greedily kissing back. There’s a bit of whiplash from going from being dunked under to being kissed, but it’s a pleasant sort of ride, the kind of dizzying back and forth he would have always expected from Grian. Part of the reason he was always so drawn in.

Bouncing lightly in the water, Grian breaks the kiss only to press a laugh against the corner of Scar's mouth. He's holding onto him, fingers finding their way back into Scar's wet hair. His feathers trail ripples behind him. "Do you want to help me wash my hair?" he ends up asking, sounding so very hopeful and impulsive, eyes alight as he peers up to meet Scar's gaze.

“Yes!” Scar exclaims, instant. Because he really does want to. 

Grian's expression brightens and softens simultaneously at Scar's quick agreement. Eager excitement settles abuzz under his skin, oddly fitting alongside the newfound looseness of his muscles. 

Scar removes one of his supporting hands first, testing if Grian isn’t still melting into the water too much to handle it without them.

Grian shifts to readjust, to carry his own weight and stay floating. He gives Scar a small nod. "Floating raisin-in-training," he reassures, wildness tipping into an almost timid grin.

Scar snickers, highly amused by the continued bit. "I'm very impressed with the raisin's progress," he teases as he removes his other hand, allowing Grian to wade freely. "I wish we had soap. I still don't understand how to make soap." It's a mournful statement, but Scar manages to keep his tone light, as if it's a joke and not a genuine problem. He opens both palms and wiggles his fingers in a goofy invitation, letting Grian lead the way on how he wants to do this.

Grian doesn't, in fact, know how to do this. He just knows he wants Scar's fingers rub at his scalp and brush through his hair and he wants it all to be nice and good. (He wonders if his hair will be fluffy when it dries. Fluffy hair and somewhat clean skin. A luxury.) (He wonders how will Scar look at him, then.) "Should I... turn my back to you?" he wonders.

But turning his back carries many things with it. (Namely his wings.)

Scar’s eyes flick to the sprawled out feathers—a lightning-fast glance, trying not to be noticed—before he hums in thought. He doesn’t want Grian to have to reel his wings back in. He likes that Grian is finally relaxing them like this, having them splayed out without care. 

So instead, he tries to say that this is good. That he likes facing Grian and looking at him. He steals a kiss, quick and gentle, drawing Grian’s attention away from any implications turning around might have.

Grian lets Scar's affection easily distract him; for once, he's not hyper-aware and hyper-vigilant about his wings, and so the warning thought dissipates before it even has a chance to form properly, everything in him instead paying attention to Scar's adoration and the promise of getting his hair washed. He giggles quietly into the kiss at Scar's exclamations. "Alright. All yours." 

Scar’s heart swells at all yours, the words satisfying something small yet primal deep inside his chest. 

But as it turns out, Grian floating in the water on his belly really isn’t a position suitable for hair washing. They fumble, Scar trying to throw out some pointless, dead-end suggestions, staying lighthearted even as it’s becoming clear that there’s no way around this.

Grian hums, glancing at his wings—the top feathers are still dry, as his wings float the inner-side down. The seeping warmth from the water keeps them relaxed and feeling good, and Grian doesn't even realise he's considering them without the usually instant flare up of anxiety.

"Let me try something," he murmurs, an edge of experimental pensiveness to his tone. He pushes himself away from Scar, using him solely for momentum, so he wouldn't have to wade to get more space. He spins, water rippling, feathers gliding across it.

He doesn't make enough space. His primaries almost brush against Scar.

Scar flinches back to avoid the wings, shocked by the casual nature in which Grian is currently treating them. He’s relieved, certainly, but slightly nervous as well. “You better not be trying to escape, you have a good fifty-some minutes of relaxation left, mister.”

Grian glances over his shoulder, chuckling at him, but doesn't deign to answer. He's climbing to the shallower part again; his wings are heavy, dragging him down as he fights them and flaps them around, sending droplets through the air. He curls them, bringing them forward, and with a squinted focus, slowly lowers them back down.

The water turns murky again in an instant, as the backs of grian's wings hit water. He almost slips off the perch of the platform as a wave of weakness rushes through him at how good the warm water feels on those spots. His eyes flutter shut without him intending for it, and a groan leaves his throat.

And then he's slipping off the edge back into the depths, this time purposefully. his wings are spread around him, messy and wet and wide, and—

He semi-floats on his back, his hair now dipped in water. It feels so insanely relaxing—a word he was forgetting even exists; he lets out a dazed hum, eyes still closed, temporarily forgetting his mission is to get back to scar.

Scar chuckles quietly to himself, trying to shield the sound with the back of his hand. He’s able to ignore the distress the muddied water caused him last time, too enthralled by the wide span of Grian’s wings, which he hasn’t seen in so long. 

 Even dirtied and drenched in water, they’re beautiful.

“Should I leave you alone with the water for a bit—?” Scar teases after another moment of admiring Grian. “Would hate to interrupt.” 

Despite saying that, his hands itch to touch. They twitch and he hides them underwater, remaining patient.

"Mmmm." Grian lets the water gently push him around, and he keeps his eyes closed for a while, staying silent after Scar's question. But then he remembers: he's going to get his hair washed. Scar's fingers are going to press and rub against his scalp and—

"Please do interrupt," he begs, dark eyes dazedly finding Scar.

“If you insist,” Scar says like he’s not equally as antsy. He approaches with caution, careful to wade between any scattered feathers, then wiggles his fingers on either side of Grian’s head. “Any requests? Gentle? Deep tissue massage? Kisses or no kisses?” He hovers over Grian’s head as he asks, grinning.

Grian peers up at Scar, upside-down, and even though he appreciates Scar’s silliness and him offering choices, decision-making feels a bit overwhelming right now. 

And yet as soon as he catches sight of Scar, he can’t help but tilt his head more, desiring more closeness. His hair submerges, obliging towards the task at hand, but there’s far more than that in the simple gesture: Grian’s throat is bare (so is the rest of him, to be fair) (exposed wings included), and there’s something eager about the way his lips fall slightly apart. “Kisses. Definitely kisses.”

Without hesitation, Scar leans down, smiling. “Oh excellent, that was my recommendation anyway!” He plants a kiss on Grian’s forehead to start, just a taste of what he’s offering, then threads his fingers into Grian’s flowing hair underwater, keeping his touch tentative for the time being.

Grian hums, both at the kiss and at the touch, a sound that reverbs in his throat. His wings spread a little more. He’s feeling pleasant and pleased, edging that state of melting into everything.

Scar starts by running his fingers through Grian’s hair, mapping out the territory and smoothing out his locks to make it easier for the proper cleaning. 

Helpless to stop it, Grian finds his eyes falling shut again. Everything's so pleasant and lulling, he can almost imagine falling asleep here. (He's certainly tired enough for it, the dark bruising under his eyes speaking volumes about that.) He wants Scar to keep touching him, to keep brushing his fingers through his hair, to— to be here, in this, with him.

“Good?” Scar checks even though he knows the answer, his fingers still gentle; he wants to hear Grian say it, confirm that this is happening, that this moment is real amidst this server of hostility and cruelty.

“Good,” Grian purrs mindlessly.

Scar slowly adds more pressure, lightly scratching at Grian's scalp for maximum effect, trying to provide as much relief as he can. 

Grian lets out little noises—sleep-laced, groggy little things—as he melts against every Scar's touch. He wants to tell him how really, really good it feels, but he can't find coherent enough words, nor make his vocal cords work. He just floats, in more ways than one. "'m sleep," he murmurs, as a warning. 

He wants to look up at Scar, but his eyelids are heavy, his body gently bobbing in water that keeps him warm and relaxed. Scar continues effortlessly lacing his fingers through curls and working small bundles of hair through his fingertips to loosen any pesky dirt that's made home there, finding almost as much pleasure in this little routine as Grian does.

"Gosh, making it my job to keep you from drowning?" Scar scolds lightheartedly with absolutely no disdain. Truthfully, the wings might be working as enough of a feather floatie for Grian anyway, but Scar doesn't mind making up for where they slack. 

"Mmmmhm," Grian confirms. His muscles are so lax. He forgot this was even possible. He hasn't felt pleasantly sleepy in so long—so many horrible dreams and endless fears and never-ending tension. This hot spring is tempting him to succumb to everything it offers, and Scar's hands are breaking the last of his resistance. "Won't let me..." he trails off, meaning to say won't let me drown. The sentense stays broken, sinking out of Grian's reach. "Trust," he murmurs, barely audible, word slurred with sleep.

Scar's about to ask who won't let him sleep, but understands that's not what's being said after he continues listening. He smiles. "Of course not," he confirms, lightly scratching behind Grian's earwings, a spot he himself took great relief from.

The scratch behind Grian's earwings sends something in him skittering and haywire in the best of ways. He chirps through the haze of sleep, unable to catch himself. His earwings flutter against the water, sending a small spray of droplets around them, but they settle back down quickly enough, limp like the rest of him. A drawn-out coo is coaxed from Grian's throat as he blindly tilts his head further into it, chasing the pleasant touch. 

There's no tension to Grian’s expression, no fear marring the space between his brows.

It feels like a dream, if this world ever knew such a thing as good dreams.

Scar chews at his lip, swallowing down all the comments we wants to make about how adorable Grian is all relaxed and bird-brained. He's not so sure Grian is sleepy enough to resist groaning and quipping back at that, so he resists, wanting him to continue drifting. 

He directs his fingertips over Grian's temple and to the top of his forehead, grazing his nails over the skin as gently as he can and massaging into the base of his hair. And he lingers. Keeps rubbing circles and tracing across Grian's hairline, taking his fine time as if he intended to clean each individual strand.

The way Scar is touching him would make Grian go positively insane if it wouldn't turn him into an incoherent puddle first. He hums, quiet, the sound barely there, edging dreamy delirium under Scar's attentive guidance. 

He really does feel himself drifting, sleep latching on and consciousness waning. The combination of stacked-up tiredness and the wholly complete relaxation are taking him over and, before he even fully realises what's happening, he's completely limp, breath evening out. 

He dips a little in the water, but stays mostly afloat anyway. Scar preemptively lifts one knee to catch Grian if his body starts to dip too far underwater, but he seems steady enough for the time being. 

Content with his successful attempt to get Grian to relax, Scar goes for softer motions, just enough to keep the flow of pleasant sensations going without doing anything that could wake his sleeping bird. 

After a minute or so, Scar sneaks a proper glance at Grian’s splayed out wings, how they fill the water around them with dirt and smaller pieces of debris. He has to resist plucking a twig from a close-by cluster of feathers, praying the water will do it for him. He settles for what he can do for now, not willing to abuse the trust Grian is offering him here by pushing his luck.

He hums a soothing, soft melody as he works, filling the space as he gets Grian’s hair clean, hoping to keep the avian’s sleep relaxed and nice. Without nightmares, for once. Warm and safe and spoiled. 

Such strange concept for this world.

And yet even those things can exist here.

Scar watches his sleeping bird and he thinks that maybe there’s hope for them still after all.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[cursezoroark]

chapter 1! (and partially chapter 2?)

(First picture is a redraw from chapter 2's visual piece which is drawn by zumi honnojis! will be below Read More!)

[honorhearted]

@songandflame

Although accustomed to putting on an act, Benjamin was not used to the rampant filth, flirtatious jeers, and stench of ill repute found along these P.arisian docks. A leering woman with rotting, yellowed teeth all but fell into him and he jerked aside, tugging his coat in closer, lest he find himself robbed of his hard-earned coin.

This was a mistake, he thought. But no...L.afayette had insisted upon this area being prime for potential targets. Men became foolish in the arms of women -- sadly, Benjamin knew this from personal experience -- and attempting to breathe through his mouth to avoid the sour, suffocating stench of human waste, he quickened his step until he was in the heart of debauchery.

There were women all around him -- some young, some old, some robust, while others were barely standing. Benjamin pitied these poor waifs. Avoiding their eyes, if only to fight against his natural impulse to soothe, to aid, he faltered once he spotted a young woman with hair the color of bottled sunshine.

The sun... It hadn't been out in days, and helpless but to gravitate toward her equally crystalline eyes, Benjamin approached the woman with a nervous tremor to his step. He would never, ever debase a human being in such a way, and yet he forced himself to maintain the act as he lifted his coat, revealing a coin purse strapped to his hip. "I..." He cleared his throat, hating how damnably dry his mouth felt. "A moment of your time, Miss. Please?"

A wave of shame rushed over him -- most especially once the other women started catcalling how they were better or more suitable for his needs -- and grateful when she started leading him off toward what he presumed to be her chambers, he held his breath before offering, "My name is John... If you promise to do everything I say, I can guarantee a lot more than coin."

The name was a lie; he didn't yet know if this thin, ashen woman could be trusted -- and offering her what he hoped to be an appeasing smile, his heart knocked up into his throat once the door closed behind them with a loud and final click. "Ah..." Nervously, he reached inside his coat before presenting the coin purse. "Name your price, and I'll see if I can double it. What I've come calling for is unlike anything you're accustomed."

[cup-bearer-ofthe-gods]

Open Starter:

Ganymede was sitting on the shore of the camp half bloods lake, just enjoying the sunlight and the serenity of it all. Olympus was quite busy these days with the impending rise of Kronos, leaving very little free time for the immortal cup-bearer. Ganymede had never visited camp before, so you don’t entirely recognize him at first.

[runefactorynonsense]

I may or may not have discovered how to play Pokemon Randomizers. And I may have started to name Pokemon after Rune Factory characters while playing a silly, personal nuzlocke.

I may have screamed when Bianca the Zubat was taken out by a murderous wild Ivysaur to end my first run.

Take 2- may Micah the Cyndaquil see better days!