#i'm doing this for callie at some point too

[myownwholewildworld]

v. a Roman’s rotten heart - acta, non verba

chapter 4 | series masterlist | ao3 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: temptation is sweeter than honey. a/n: well, well, well, what can i say other than this whole chapter had me howling? over half of it is smut, so if that's not your thing, i'm sorry? 🤓 as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care 💖 warnings: 18+, mdni. mentions of war, death, starvation, marital abuse, infidelity. some fluff because cormag is a grumpy sweetheart. marcus is the praise/consent king. very soft!marcus (yes, this is a warning). he talks you through it. a lot of fingering. nipple play. unprotected piv. reverse lap dance and reverse cowgirl positions. dialogue in italics means it’s spoken in gaelic (unless stated otherwise, i.e. latin). marcus is 49, ofc!reader (callie) is 26. unbeta'd, very minimal editing (soz). w/c: ~8.8k. dividers by @\saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

“Come see me tonight,” Marcus almost begged you as you turned around in his embrace.

He had you pinned against the wall of the garderobe, the small room filled with the scent of wine and sex.

You chuckled, eyeing him through your lashes. It was a good sign that he was eager, but you wondered if he was just trying to bed you, fuck you and then be done with you. All men were the same, especially men like him — drunk with power, believing they were above everyone else, that they could get anyone to bend to their will.

And… was not that what you were trying to do anyway?

“I’ll see what I can do,” you conceded, leaving him hanging. “But won’t you have an early day tomorrow? I’m sure being the General of Rome have you waking up like an early bird.”

You were fishing for information, and hoped he would bite the bait.

Surprisingly, he did.

“Tomorrow we are going on a reconnaissance mission around the area, stalk out some points of interest where…” he trailed off, probably realising he had spoken too much. “But I don’t mind having a late night when I know it will be worth it.”

He surely knew how to make one feel fucking special. But what he said was like gold dust to you — it wasn’t much, but enough to get your plan working. You’d need to speak to some people, see what could be arranged, but if it worked out, perhaps your people could instil some fear in those rotten Roman hearts.

You wondered if Marcus’ was as rotten as his people’s. An idea of him had formed in your mind, and it contradicted what he had shown you so far. But only a man with a rotten heart could cause so much pain, so much grief.

You chewed your bottom lip, crouching for a second to collect the jug you had dropped before.

“If I finish early after cleaning up all the mess of your birthday’s celebration…” you teased.

“Right,” Marcus took a step back, liberating you from the warm prison of his body. “You go first, I’ll wait a couple of minutes then leave.”

“Such a gentleman, worried about my reputation,” you mocked him a bit, hand on the doorknob.

“I am,” Marcus replied, and you were not sure if he was joking back or being serious.

You didn’t stay to find out, scurrying away down the hallway straight to the kitchens. There were a lot of people in the small room, with Cormag at the forefront of it, barking commands and orders to everyone. The air was heavy, a cloud of smoke collecting close to the low ceiling.

The poor cook was profusely sweating near the hearth, his paw stirring a cauldron with a big wooden spoon.

“Ye deaf lad?! Bring that over right now!” the old git screamed at the top of his lungs, breaking into a coughing fit a second later.

Tomorrow you would make sure to put out the fire and clean that damn chimney, because one of these days Cormag was going to cough up a lung. You wouldn’t tell him though, otherwise he would try and talk you out of it, pointing out that it was no job for a lady. As if you cared.

Placing the empty jug down on one of counters, you saw Brighid and Isla tattling in a corner, giggling and blushing. You could only imagine what they were talking about. Had Brighid recognised you? It was dark inside the garderobe, and Marcus had tried to shield you from her, but the maid could be very perceptive.

Then Brighid swept the room and waved at you to come over, still snickering.

You steeled your back and sauntered towards them, not sure what to expect.

“Oh, mo bana-phrionnsa, you’re not going to believe what I just saw!” she squealed, almost too excitedly. “I just saw the Roman General fucking one of the harlots in the garderobe!”

Should you take offense in being mistaken for a prostitute? Perhaps you should but didn’t. It was actually a relief. Being caught red-handed sheathing Acacius’ cock in a crowded event like this would have been bad, really bad.

“Did you now?!” you faked the same level of excitement, sharing in the gossip.

The rest of the night was a haze, serving plates and taking empty ones away, cleaning up after the unwanted guests, replenishing wine and beer one pint after the next. Your feet hurt, although the dull, pleasant aching between your legs had nothing to do with standing up for hours. You had Marcus to thank for that.

Perhaps you were being paranoid, but you felt strangers’ eyes on you for the remainder of the night. You had avoided looking at the dais the whole evening, slightly worried that if your eyes lingered on him for too long, people would notice and add up your absence with his. That wasn’t the kind of attention you needed.

The last of the Romans had left now while you and the maids continued to clean after them. Marcus and Maximus were the last ones to exit the great hall, and you could sense the General’s brown eyes burning through your skin as he walked towards the double doors. You didn’t look his way, although the temptation was there. You knew if you did, you would not be able to stop yourself from following him to his room.

Two hours had gone by, and you were knackered. Rummaging through a basket, you found one of the plums that Cormag had gotten for you from Fachabair, jumped and sat on the clean counter. Your feet dangled in front of you, your mind stuck in that garderobe.

You were so distracted, your heart almost escaped your chest when someone spoke behind you.

“Meanbh-chuileag (Highland midge),” you almost fell from the counter when you turned around to look at the old cook.

“Cormag! I almost threw up my heart right now,” you accused him, his hearty laugh reverberating in the room.

“Didnae ye hear my ol’ knees clicking? Umnae (am not) that stealthy, fear beag (little one). What are you doing here? It’s so late, you should be in bed,” he questioned you, stopping in front of you with arms folded.

You rolled your eyes — Cormag was too close to a father figure to you, so you would sometimes give him the same attitude you did your dad.

“I was about to go, just wanted something sweet before I left.”

“Is that why all the plums are disappearing so quickly?” his brows knitted together, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Coireach (guilty). They are just too sweet. Didnae you say you bought them for me exclusively?”

“Exclusively? Now I don’t recall saying that, ye wee liar,” Cormag joked, his expression softening. “Are you and your family having enough to eat?”

The old man had a nose for hunger. While you were not starving, you did save as much food as possible so your niece and nephew would not go to bed with an empty belly. Bonnie was trying her best to keep you all fed, but four more mouths to cater for in the household meant that resources were a tad scarce. Your sister’s children were used to Cormag’s cooking, not having known hunger for a single day of their lives. And you didn’t want that to change now.

“We are making ends meet,” you eluded, shrugging, while sinking your teeth in the plum.

Cormag tutted at you and with no other words, he veered around and shuffled around in the kitchen. You watched him with curiosity, not sure of what he was doing. Got off the counter to drop the stone in the bin.

“Here, you take all of this with you, and I won’t accept no for an answer,” Cormag placed down a basket full of food. “They are leftovers from tonight. Brighid, Isla and the lads have already had their share.”

You could smell the stew even with the tiny cauldron covered. Fresh vegetables, berries, bread, and, of course, quite a few plums along with other seasonal fruits. All that food would keep you all fed for a few days.

His generosity made the knot in your throat swell, your eyes lighting up with unspent tears. You had not expected to feel emotional, but the cook’s kindness reminded you too much of the family you had lost.

“Cormag,” you whispered, fearing your voice might crack, “mòran taing (thank you).”

He waved one of his paws, making light of the situation.

“Dinnae mention it. You still have a few inches to grow,” he jested, palming your shoulder.

His joke worked — it lightened your mood.

“I am six and twenty. I don’t think I’m growing any more than this,” you chortled, grabbing the basket to rest it on your hip. “Awright, I’m leaving before you diminish the castle’s reserves.”

“Off you go then,” his hands did a brushing motion, the man almost pushing you out of his kitchen.

If you had planned on visiting Marcus tonight, that had now changed — carrying all this food to Bonnie’s home was your main priority. You couldn’t wait to see the sparkle in your niece and nephew’s eyes when they woke up in the morning, plums and berries ready for them to break their fast.

Marcus knew that the rebels would be up in arms, but he did not expect them to be so bloodthirsty. The barbarians from the Highlands were not going to go down quietly, he had come to learn.

He had lost at least a dozen of men in the skirmish. They had been ambushed in their way to Cùil Lodair (Culloden), and none of his trackers had seen any indication of the small legion being followed. The moment they entered the woods and the path narrowed, arrows flew from tree to tree. Hell ensued, a dance of swords quickly singing its melody up to the treetops.

With his wounds still fresh and healing, Marcus had been able to knock down the first two men that approached him. Maximus and Cassius had come to his aid in time — the warmth soaking the tunic underneath his armour a good indication that he was bleeding again.

The General looked around him before jumping onto Faun’s back. Death followed him everywhere he went, like an old companion stalking his every step. He should be used to it by now—the reeking stench of humanity’s demise—but the truth was, Marcus never would. It never became easier, just manageable, but his duty to Rome had him drown the lingering doubts living quietly in the back of his mind.

After an unsuccessful mission—never made it past the woods—they returned to the castle, carrying their own dead and leaving behind a pile of bodies for their people to mourn and bury.

His muscles ached with exhaustion as he crossed the barbican. A dense fog had settled in the bailey, not a soul to be seen. As he trudged forward and the warm air of the keep hit his damp skin, his senses flared — alert, hoping to cross eyes with you.

Marcus had not seen you since his birthday. Despite asking you to join you that evening, you had not shown up at his door. He had waited up for a couple of hours and when reality dawned, he called it a night, somewhat resigned.

Perhaps it was for the best. He was a married man, after all. It was normal for men to take up a mistress or two, but Marcus was the kind to think that matrimony was holy — despite the hardships and the cheating, that was. At least, that was his mind up until he met you.

Should not be after a woman who was several years younger than himself either, he thought with a pout. But whatever spell you had him under, he could not break free from. You were like the opium poppy — your mere proximity could soothe pain, but also cause it.

“You need to get that stitched up again, Acacius,” Cassius pointed out, interrupting his line of thought.

Marcus’ palm was pressing on the wound on his hip — he had almost forgotten about the pain, the thought of you soothing.

“I’ll call for Atticus,” Maximus chipped in, and Marcus nodded.

“Shite!” you staggered backwards.

The hardened soot and coal you had been poking at with a broomstick to unblock the chimney’s breast dislodged from the inner walls. Snapping your head back, your face was saved by hair’s breadth, but the black ash had cascaded down your chest, staining the red linen dress you were fashioning today.

You clapped your hands together, a cloud of soot flying around you as you tried to shake off the rest of it off your clothes.

Huffing and puffing, you grabbed the damn broomstick and brush the mess off the floor. At least the chimney was unblocked now, so the air would not be loaded with smoke when the hearth was ignited again.

At least the kitchen was empty, so no one was witness to what has happened. Not that you were a refined lady worries about being seen like this, but you just knew that if Cormag was around, he would be giving you hell.

Once you were done, you left the kitchen and sauntered towards the doors to the bailey. You were in dire need of a dunking to clean yourself — you knew the perfect secluded spot on River Ness’ bank, one you had been going to since you were a child.

“Callie?”

The voice behind you made your heart skip a beat and your feet freeze. One you would now recognise anywhere.

“Dux Meus,” you murmured, turning around to face the fire of your desire.

Dux Meus. His lower tummy burnt at the words.

The last thing Marcus had hoped to see this fine morning was you standing in the hallway, a red dress hugging the hourglass figure he longed for. Your chest was covered in what seemed to be ash and soot, a deep black staining ruining the front of your pretty dress. It spread to your neck, your cheeks, the tip of your nose — and your green eyes so bright that they were pulling him in.

“What’s happened?”

“A minor inconvenience in the kitchens, Dominus. I was unblocking the chimney’s breast and, well…” you lifted your arms and pointed at yourself. “I guess my reflexes are not as sharp as I would have liked.”

Marcus grinned, the annoyance in your voice adding to the entertainment.

“I guess not,” he hummed, his fingertips burning to touch you. “I can help you,” the words escaped him before his brain was able to catch up with his own intentions.

I can help you clean yourself, he meant.

Your eyes locked for what felt like an eternity, the pupils in your orbs flickering, pondering.

One of your brows raised in your forehead and you took a step forward towards him.

“Only if it is not inconvenient for you, Dux Meus,” you cooed with a girlish smile.

“Of course not,” he quickly replied. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

“I believe your pretty dress is ruined,” Marcus husked, the damp rag brushing the exposed skin of your clavicle.

This was fucking torture. He was playing a game, and your patience was running thin. He had been paying immense attention to every inch of your skin, cleaning off all soot and ash. You knew he was debating, but he wouldn’t have taken you to his bedchambers—your room—if he hadn’t had something in mind.

The same thing you had in mind, to be completely honest.

“It appears so,” you said, sliding your hand to his.

To hell with subtleties — the tension was eating you up.

You guided his hand, the one holding the linen cloth, to the valley between the swell of your boobs. Slowly you pushed it down, one corner of the rag disappearing between your breasts.

Marcus didn’t say a word. And he didn’t need to, because the way he was looking at you—like a man who had not drunk water in days—was speaking for him.

You were not sure who had taken the initiative, but soon enough you were in his embrace, his mouth warming your lips as his hands rested gently on either side of your waist.

“I need you,” you mumbled, possibly being sincere for the first time.

You had not been able to stop thinking about what happened in the garderobe. Every time the memory came back, you would find yourself rubbing your knees together to quench the thirst between your thighs.

Marcus groaned in reply, his hands harsher now as they found the buttons on the back. With steady fingers, he undid every single one of them until your dress cascaded off your body and gathered at your feet. Soon your loincloth was also on the floor, leaving you completely naked.

The General took a step back to take in the sight of you — the intensity in his brown eyes making you blush as he studied every square inch of your body.

“You look beautiful,” he muttered, one hand reaching up to cup one of your breasts, his thumb skimming the nipple. You pursed your lips at the gentle touch. “You are beautiful, mel.”

Then he bowed down to kiss you again, and he took control of your hands to show you how to undress him. So you did under his delicate guidance, until you both were equally bare.

Marcus’ body was a woman’s dream — or, at least, yours. Toned but not too muscular, a hard chest, strong and defined arms, his lower tummy slightly softer with the passage of time, a pronounced V line, and then a happy, hairy trail that your eyes eagerly followed.

His cock had started to harden, the tip pearly with his excitement. The length was generous, but the girth was what caught your attention.

No wonder why he couldn’t fit it in the first time. Perhaps it hadn’t been your body’s rejection, but that Marcus’ dick was thick, very thick.

“It’s alright, honey, we’ll make it work,” he hummed, his thumb tilting your chin up to press a soft kiss on your mouth.

Then he walked to the bed—his ass, goddamn his ass—and sat on the feathery mattress.

You were standing there, completely naked and suddenly you felt shy — your arms wrapping around your body to try and cover yourself up. Your skin had bristled, not because of the room temperature, but because you felt completely exposed to him.

Being shy was not something you were used to, but everything you had endured with your late husband had taken a toll on you, one you had not expected at all. It pained you to acknowledge that Iain might have broken your spirit a tad more than what you would have liked to admit.

Marcus’ nudity should have calmed you, but instead it made your eyes widened and your heart pound harder.

He was big, really big ― to the point that you pondered if he would ever fit inside you. No wonder why he had only fucked you with the tip a couple of days ago. Taking more inches of his cock seemed like an unachievable task, at least for you. You were no stranger to sex, having been subdued to satisfy all of Iain’s vices, but this… this was too fucking different to what you had expected.

Doubt nagged at your mind, questioning yourself. Perhaps this was all a bad idea, wanting to seduce Marcus to get information off him. But you truly didn’t see any other way of obtaining what you needed ― leverage.

Marcus extended one of his hands towards you.

“It’s alright, melculum. Just want to make you feel good,” he husked, his palm an open invitation to join him, sat on the bed. Your bed.

You slipped your hand to his and he pulled you gently until you were sat on his bare lap. His hardening dick rested on the side of your left thigh, warm and heavy. His right hand traced mindless lines on your back, while his left caressed your belly, the pads of his fingers lightly stroking your mound.

With eyes shut, you sighed, relaxing at his touch. Marcus kissed your shoulder, then the curvature of your neck.

“That’s it, mel, relax. We are not doing anything you don’t want to,” he whispered.

And you believed him. Knew better than trusting your enemy, but his voice was so reassuring, there was no more room for your initial doubt.

His left hand surprised you travelling up instead of down, cupping your left breast while his thumb stroked your nipple. A shiver of need went down your spine, soothed by the gentle pet of his right hand on your back. His beard scratched your bristled skin as he crouched down a little to trap your taut nipple between his lips.

Inevitably, your head tilted back, mouth agape with short breaths. Marcus worked your nipple diligently, the warmth of his lips dripping onto the wrinkled nub. And even as you started trembling on his lap, he did not stop. If anything, your little gasps and quiet moans spurred him on, his tongue flicking your nipple.

The sensation was too much ― Marcus latched on your breast as a man starved, his broad hand cradling your breast with reverence. He was intent on making it good for you and not asking for anything in return. But your instinct wanted you to reciprocate, you needed to do something.

Your left hand found his stiffened cock, leaned against your thigh. Tentatively, your fingertips stroked the leaky mushroom head, which gifted you a deep groan coming from his chest. Hearing him moan around your nipple was a great incentive to explore him a bit more, so you swiped his glans with your thumb, collecting a pearl of precum and buttering it onto his tacky skin.

“You don’t have to,” he purred between licks.

“But I want to,” you cooed back, mind mushy with pleasure.

Marcus’ efforts on your nipple doubled, twirling the tight button between his teeth and pulling slightly before soothing the gesture with a wet kiss on your bud. You couldn’t help but whimper, dampness gathering between your thighs.

As if he knew how drenched you were getting, the hand that cupped your breast slowly trailed down until it found your mound again. His ring finger stroked the outline of your seam a few times, your knees pressed together so your juices wouldn’t leak out.

“Let me see how wet you are, please,” Marcus murmured in a moment of reprieve, his lips pecking your nipple with every word he spoke.

You couldn’t resist him, not anymore, so you parted your legs just enough to let his hand slip between your thighs. The moment his ring finger dunked in your warmth, you both moaned in unison. The pad of his finger slid across your velvety skin, from your clenching hole to your writhing clit, a few times, as if he wanted to get acquainted with the map of your pussy.

“You’re soaking,” he grunted. “So damn wet for me, melculum.”

His words in combination with his cheeky finger short-circuited your brain, that coiling sensation you had been craving these last two days starting to take form low in your belly. It was warm in here now, so much your cheeks flushed as if you had drunk a pint of uisge beatha.

With lazy strokes on your soggy slit, Marcus’ tongue kept on licking and flicking your nipple, now completely sodden with his spit. His digit worked you slowly too, moving up and down between your swollen pussy lips until it caught on your needy clit. You sobbed quietly at the touch, and sensing how much you enjoyed that, Marcus repeated it.

Soon enough you were mewling into the abyss as the General pressed languid circles on your bundle of nerves at the same time he was lapping at the tip of your boob. And the moment he sunk the first phalange of his ring finger in your leaking hole, your wails just grew louder.

With an unhurried pace, he pumped the tip of his digit in and out of you, feeling your inner walls relaxing around him. A couple of minutes later, your walls had adjusted to the intrusion, his finger now completely buried in your seeping hole down to the knuckle.

You heaved, pursing your lips in a vain attempt to control your moaning, but the pleasure building up inside you was too great to bear. Too intense to ignore. You bit down your bottom lip until you almost drew blood, your hips bucking up with a mind of their own.

“That’s it, sweetheart, you feel that?” Marcus’ devilish mouth abandoned your nipple, lips pressed against your ear. “Come for me, please. Melt for me.”

You resisted, wanting to prolong this moment. It felt too good to let it go just yet, albeit your whole body was commending you to. Your insides tightened around Marcus’ lone finger as you tried to hold on to the feeling a little longer.

You were so lost to the new sensations, you hadn’t realised your own fingers were wrapping snugly around Marcus’ throbbing erection. Hoping he would falter, you began to pump him slowly, his hot glans leaking onto the skin of your thigh.

“Don’t be a tease, mel, don’t want to come yet,” he groaned in your ear. His finger suddenly left your insides to slap your hand away from his shaft.

You sobbed at the emptiness, the coiling feeling starting to diminish. The idea of not finding relief haunted you, so you obeyed his command.

Your fingers found his wrist, gripping it tight and guiding him back to your beating cunt. You coaxed your pussy lips apart with his fingers and silently begged him to resume where he had left off.

“Are you going to be good for me and come?” he asked, kissing your shoulder. “Do you promise?”

You nodded with vehemency.

“Good girl.”

With more urgency now, Marcus worked you back to the edge of the pleasure cliff, forcing you to climb up to the top with a relentless pace. Every time his ring finger bottomed out inside you, his thumb would flick your burning clit. The repeated tease of his hand was your undoing.

Teary eyes and parted lips, you moaned as an enormous wave washed over you, the coil inside finally snapping with a force unknown to mankind. Or, at least, unknown to you. Marcus kept on fingering you throughout, pulling the last bit of pleasure out of you until you were spent.

You hadn’t realised how much you had leaked until you felt his wet thigh underneath, sticky and warm with your release.

“I’m sorry, I’ll clean―” you tried to move off his lap, but Marcus’ strong arm wrapped around your waist, grounding you on his lap.

“Don’t apologise, it’s normal. It means you’re enjoying it,” he reassured you, then lifted his gaze to yours, a lingering question dancing in his dilated pupils. “I thought you were a widow?”

He was not wrong. But not all men spent the time he was taking to make it pleasurable for women.

“I am. But my late husband only cared about himself,” you told the truth, a crack of sincerity in your carefully built façade. “Never took the time to… make it good for me.”

Marcus frowned with incomprehension at your revelation, his mouth falling into a flat line. Was that a ray of anger? If it was, it quickly disappeared from his brown eyes.

Judging by what had just happened, you knew he was the complete opposite to Iain in that respect.

“Two days ago, in the garderobe. Was that your first time orgasming?”

You pouted, feeling like the conversation was taking a very personal turn. But you didn’t want to lie to him, there was enough deceit between you two. So you nodded, eyes withdrawn with a tinge of embarrassment.

Marcus cursed himself, annoyed with something although you didn’t know what. Annoyed with you, perhaps?

His thumb stroked your bottom lip, soothing the grimace showing on your face.

“Had I known, I wouldn’t have taken you like that. This should have been the first time you climaxed, melculum. I am sorry,” he apologised, and your heart jolted.

He was angry with himself. But the whole thing had been so good, you wouldn’t have done anything different. The memory of Marcus’ tip fucking the first two inches of your pussy had kept you warm at night.

“What? Nay, don’t. It was good, really good. I wouldn’t change a thing about what happened,” you quickly replied.

And what was worst, you actually meant it.

For a minute, Marcus didn’t speak a word, studying your face expression until he reached the conclusion that you were not lying.

“Stand up for me,” he said out of nowhere.

You obliged, the tremor of your knees almost gone. standing in front of him, he leaned forward, hands on either side of your waist, to kiss your mound. The intimacy of such gesture caught you off guard. Then he leaned back and dragged his body on the bed until he was sat in the middle of it, back resting against the headboard, knees bent with his soles resting flat on the silky bedsheets.

He palmed his thigh, his cock so erect it twitched with every heartbeat against his happy trail.

“Come here,” he mumbled with need.

You might not know what you had to do, but your body definitely knew what it needed to do to chase that high again. So you crawled on the bed until you were straddling him, the tip of his throbbing cock kissing your hooded clit.

Marcus’ hand cupped your ass, and then tutted.

“Not yet, mel, I need to make sure you are completely ready,” he husked.

It was your time to frown.

“I am ready,” you assured him.

“It was only one finger, sweetheart―”

“One thick finger,” you remarked, snappy.

Marcus chuckled, shaking his head.

“Yes, but I need you to take all of this,” he whispered, his hand gripping the base of his cock to direct your attention there.

He was girthy. Probably too girthy. One of his fingers was nothing in comparison.

You swallowed, your gaze looking for his.

“Yeah, I know, dove. We’ll take it slow,” he leaned forward a bit to kiss your right nipple. “Turn around, I want you to sit on my lap with your back resting on my chest.”

The promise of another climax numbed your mind, so you did exactly as he had asked. Sat on his lap, you leaned back until your bare back met his hard torso. His knees were still bent, and he slipped his forearms under your thighs to lift them up over his own thighs. The back of your thighs were now resting on top of his, and when Marcus pulled his knees apart, your legs followed the motion, leaving you completely open and exposed.

When your eyes drifted down your own body, you saw Marcus’ erection poking in between your thighs, gently lodged between your pussy lips. His hips moved slightly under you, his length skidding along your drenched fold, the head disappearing from sight as it dragged backwards across your seam. It hitched in your entrance, just briefly ― then Marcus tugged his hips upwards and his glans reappeared again, protruding where your slit began.

Marcus repeated the whole process a few times, his name dripping from your mouth in choked moans. He buried his crooked nose in your hair, inhaling your scent.

“You feel like heaven right now,” he mumbled, kissing the nape of your neck. “Play with your boobs for me, mel, my hands are about to be very busy, sadly can’t be everywhere.”

His request had your cunt gushing some more, if that was even possible. You felt so wet down there, you even wondered if there was something wrong with you. Couldn’t be that out of all men on this world, the one who killed your family was who had you melting under his touch.

Feeling a bubble of slick leaking from your hole on his thudding shaft, you leaned your head back on his shoulder and moved your hair out of the way, some ginger curls cascading down your front, covering your breasts. Cupped your underboob and pushed them up, creating a deep valley between your tits.

“That’s it, stroke them for me, melculum,” he mused as both of his hands rode up your inner thigs until your pussy was framed between them. “Brush both of your nipples with your thumbs, just lightly. Don’t be too harsh with them, they are sensitive.”

Marcus talked you through playing with your buds, petting them gently as he was telling you. While doing so, his left hand grabbed at his cock and began to pump himself, while his right started working your clit again. Looking down, you just caught a glimpse, which sent you trembling on his lap like a newborn foal.

He cupped your mound, the pads of all his fingers rubbing your clit leisurely, as if you had all time in the world. The fire burning between your legs hiked up your spine the moment Marcus let go of his cock and it sat snug against your pussy again, his fingers stopping for a second.

You whimpered in protest, your nipples hardening under the touch of your thumbs.

“Shh, it’s okay, Callie,” he heartened you, only to resume the petting of your slick nub. You let go a sigh of relief. “There you go.”

His free hand went down your thigh to find your drooling entrance, testing it out with one finger. Your pussy sheathed it with ease and Marcus hummed behind you.

“You’re much more relaxed now,” he praised. “Pinch those nipples for me, twist them gently between your thumb and index.” You did as you were told, another wail tearing your throat apart. “Yes, just like that, you’re doing so well, mel.” He gave you a moment to acclimatise to the feeling of having hands everywhere ― your nipples, your clit, your hole. It was almost too much. “Now, suck on your thumbs so they are wet and go back to rub those beautiful buds for me. Imagine they are my fingers. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, desperate. Doing exactly as you were told, the sudden cold of your spit on your nipples made the sensitive skin under your thumbs wrinkle. The brief pain transformed into something else, hellfire running through your veins.

So focused on your breasts, you had almost forgotten about Marcus fingering your pussy and smothering your clit at the same time. Your toes curled, hips bucking up, so close to that cliff again, one you would throw yourself off gladly.

“You’re doing very well―so, so well,” Marcus’ praise was like music to your ears, all your nerve endings firing with delight. “You think you can take another finger?”

You sobbed, shaking your head.

“Yes, please,” you begged.

As promised, Marcus introduced his middle finger, the pads of both dragging along your anterior wall to find that sweet, soft spot. Your hips jerked up and then back down on him, grinding a circular motion on his lower tummy.

“Well done, mel. I am sure we can get your sweet tight pussy to make room for me.”

His cock twitched between your thighs, leaking, and you knew he was as desperate as you. So, while one hand skimmed your nipple, the other drifted down to caress his glans with your thumb. Marcus rumbled underneath, his breath hitching with a quiet moan ― you did it again.

His fingers sunk inside of you effortlessly now, pumping in and out and all you could hear were the squelching noises coming from your swollen lips. It should have felt embarrassing, but it had the opposite effect on you ― if anything, they made you gush even more.

“If you can take three fingers… shit…” Marcus almost lost his composure there, “if you can, then you’ll be ready, sweetheart. Shall we try?”

You gripped his beating erection harder in response, mewling audibly now with every stroke on your clit, every thrust of his fingers, the caress of your own thumb on your nipple… Then the third finger went in smoothly and you saw stars behind your closed eyes.

It just was too much. Your knees quivered and so did your cunt, clutching on his fingers. You felt your inner walls contracting, but this time it was different ― it wasn’t to get the fingers out, but to push them as far in as you could. And Marcus obliged, bottoming out, then slipping them out and back in. The coil inside you twisted feverishly and you just couldn’t take it anymore.

You started wailing, grinding your ass against his tummy, in an attempt to increase the friction in your drenched opening, in your clit, everywhere.

“You’re close, mel, you’re so close,” Marcus huffed. “I want to try something. Do you trust me?”

You were barely able to nod at his words ― right now, you would do anything he asked for.

His fingers left your hole with a pop, and the second hand stopped petting your clit right when you were so close to fall off the cliff of your pleasure.

You panicked, tears brimming now as a sense of anxiety peaked inside you.

“M-Ma-Marcus,” you complained in a stutter, your whole body shaking.

You didn’t have much time to finish your protest, because he grabbed your hand off his cock and pushed your fingers against your clit. He showed you how to move them in circles, coaching you for a minute, teaching you how to pleasure yourself.

“Keep touching your sweet little clit for me, deliciae (darling),” Marcus groaned, his voice raspy and deep. “I’m going in. I want you to come while you sheathe me.”

And with no further ado, he slipped his forearms under your thighs, lifted you off his lap to align the tip of his veiny dick with your entrance. Slowly he dropped you, his length furrowing its way up your cavity with no difficulty.

The moment his glans was sat and more inches intruded, you finally came. The strength of your release had your whole being shaken up, your climax so intense you couldn’t see anything even through half-lidded eyes. Feral moans escaped your lips, every inch of Marcus’ cock intensifying the climax that had you on its tight grip.

Your inner walls hugged his cock, choked it actually. Your heart was racing so fast, you could feel the heartbeat in your quivering cunt, a sensation so overwhelming it almost sent you over the edge again.

You hadn’t realised, but Marcus was completely seated inside you, buried down to the hilt, his balls intimately kissing your puffy lips. Fullness tugged at your walls, stretching them, still adapting around his girth. He was everywhere ― filling every crevice, every nook and cranny. You felt his presence so intensely, it was staggering.

“Oh Gods…” Marcus sounded like he was within an inch of his life. “You feel so good, melculum. So warm, so wet, s-so… uhm… so tight. Heaven on Earth,” he prayed in a hush, his tone almost breaking. “How… are you feeling?”

“Blissed out,” you hummed. “Full, in the best way possible.”

Those were all the words Marcus needed to hear from you. He had been to hell and back, and even though his cock had been barely stimulated, he was throbbing for you. Marcus couldn’t remember the last time he felt this… needy.

And now he was in heaven, his shaft sweetly embraced by your wet warmth. A gift you were, sent by Gods themselves ― there was no other explanation.

Marcus’ forearms were still resting on the back of your thighs, then he hoisted you up ever so slightly, moving you up his length so you would free a few inches of his cock. The cold air of the room clung onto his damp shaft, a shiver running down his spine, then placed you back down on his lap.

Every time he pushed you up and down on his lap, you would moan like a woman possessed. Your little sobs and whimpers were the best melody he had ever listened to ― so quiet, yet so wanton. They filled your mouth and spilt over your lips like honey. He would drink them right now if he could.

His dick pulsated hard when your pussy fluttered around him, then your walls tensed around him and Marcus snapped his head back against the headboard, a feral groan ringing in his eardrums.

“Do that again, please,” he requested, all his fingers digging in the flesh of your thighs.

“W-what?”

“Squeeze your walls for me, sweetheart. Hug me tight,” Marcus mumbled, struggling towards the end the moment you did exactly as he asked. “For everything that is holy―”

And you did it again, his words dying out as you clamped down on him with a strength that had him delirious. His mind spiralled down and just in the last second, Marcus stopped himself from coming.

“Such a mischievous nymph you are,” it wasn’t an accusation but a compliment. “Let me see if you’re still playing with that taut pearl in your pussy the way I’ve shown you.”

When he looked over your shoulder, you coaxed your sodden flaps apart for him, showing him how your fingertips worked your clit. Marcus’ hips jerked up at the irresistible sight, burying himself further down in you. His waist waved underneath you, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease.

“You’re doing great, mel. Such a good girl,” he moaned in your ear, nipping your lobe. “Do you like that, hm? Rubbing your tight little button?”

Your reply was a trembling whimper, your pursed bottom lip quivering with your eyes shut. Your brows were knitting together, bunny lines hugging your upturned nose. Marcus could feel your need, your palpitations. Your desperation.

“Is it too much, melculum?” You nodded, almost crying now. “I know, sweetheart, but we can remedy that. Do you want to come so you feel better?” Another nod of your head. “Alright, do you think you can ride me?”

“Aye, I want to ride you, Marcus,” you sobbed his name, his balls tensing up into his lower tummy.

Marcus let go of your thighs and helped you accommodate your knees to either side of him, so you were straddling him backwards. His hands caressed your round ass cheeks, eyes locked on where your bodies connected.

“Do whatever feels right, honey.”

Overtaken by instinct, you leaned forward and placed your hands between his calves, fisting the bedsheets as you started bouncing your hips up and down on his lap. Marcus let you find your rhythm, standing still underneath, letting you use him as needed.

The sweet choke of your pussy was too much ― too tight, too wet, too warm. This was the best he had felt in fucking decades, all thanks to you. Slowly, he matched your thrusts with his own, fucking up into you, meeting you halfway while his hands on your hips kept you grounded.

The slapping of his testicles on your swollen fold went on for a few minutes, a lewd cacophony echoing between the walls of his bedchamber. And soon enough he found himself grasping for control, his cock pulsating uncontrollably inside you.

You might have felt his pulse, because you spoke between choked wails.

“You can come inside, I can take―”

“What? No,” his response was instinctual, cutting you off before you finished. “You don’t need to take anything.”

Because the mere idea of you drinking some sort of potion so his seed wouldn’t take made him sick. Was that what your late husband had taught you? Was that how you were treated in bed, like a simple plaything to be used to satiate a man’s lust?

Those thoughts were deserted the moment your entrance squeezed hard around him, your moans mixing with the clapping sound of skin on skin. You pushed down your hips onto his lap, your sweet ass flush with his lower tummy. He felt another orgasm hit you and Marcus fucked you through it, steadily rutting up into you.

His own climax was near, all his muscles tensing with anticipation, his hips stuttering. With the last drop of his sanity, he lifted your butt up, his erection becoming free and resting between the swells of your ass cheeks. A second later, white ropes painted the small of your back while Marcus let go of a guttural groan.

With a fucked-out expression and a sweet grin, you looked over your shoulder and down at his spent sliding down your back. Marcus reached for the bedsheet and cleaned his cum off your skin delicately, his brown eyes fixed on your emerald ones.

“You’ve done extremely well for me, melculum. Exquisitely well,” he remarked, his hands smoothing over your thighs. “Come here.”

You turned around and laid down besides him, the upper half of your body resting on top of his torso. Your cheek rested on his sternum while his fingers traced invisible lanes on your arm, just above your elbow.

A moment of quietness lingered as your rapid breaths calmed down, your hearts settling back into a normal pace at the same time.

“I thought it was bad for you,” you muttered, the palm of your hand splaying right underneath his belly button.

“What was?” Marcus asked, confused.

“Uhmm…” you paused for a second, dubious, but then decided to trust him with your questions. “Coming outside. I was told it was extremely painful for the man to come if you are not buried… deep inside of a pussy.”

Your words awakened something with him, something dark and primal ― protective. For a moment, Marcus wished your husband was alive, so he could teach him how to be a real man. He had started to create a picture of what your sex life had been so far, and it wasn’t a pretty one.

In retrospect, he regretted having taken you so hastily in the garderobe. Barely took the time to work you to a climax. Marcus had paid worshipping attention to your breasts, but when it came to your clit, he had not been as attentive. Marcus should have shown you how good that could feel, should have taken his sweet time like he had done today, but he had been too anxious to fuck you.

Marcus looked for the best way to tell you without making you feel naïve. He didn’t want you thinking something like that, that he would force his seed on you for his own pleasure.

“That’s not how it is, mel. I’m sorry you’ve been told that,” his lips brushed your red crown, then pressed a kiss on your forehead. Could you hear how hard his heart was pounding with rage? One he was trying to quiet down. “I can come outside just fine, that’s not an issue. I prefer that a thousand times over you having to drink some nasty potion that will end up hurting you.”

His care for you was genuine, and Marcus was shocked at the truth that thought held. He barely knew you, but what he had seen of you so far had him reeled in like a fish attached to a rusty hook.

You were so direct, snappy even, with a sarcastic retort always at the ready. Your strong personality was refreshing, especially to someone like Marcus, used to be surrounded by women who would bow their head down at the sight of him. But knowing this side of you now―a tad insecure and inexperienced, rediscovering what sex was really like―, he wondered how much of your façade was just that, a carefully built stonewall to keep people at bay.

“Oh, I see,” you muttered, the skin between your brows pinching.

Marcus tilted your chin up with his thumb. His gaze roved over your face, studying it and finding that you seemed to be upset, possibly with yourself. He didn’t like that.

His thumb stroked your bottom lip to relax your pouting expression.

“If you were told such a thing, it’s normal that you believed it. I just don’t want to lie to you, don’t want to take advantage of you, melculum. I want you to enjoy yourself, to discover what you like and don’t like in bed.” The hand that was caressing your arm travelled down your back, went over the swell of your round globes until he found the slick of your arousal clinging onto your pussy lips. He stroked them carefully, buttering your sticky cunt with your own juices. “This is how I want you, sweetheart. Creamy and satisfied. That’s all I care about.”

You hummed at his words, eyes shut and mouth agape. His fingers pried your pussy open, the cold air on your wet, sensitive skin made you shiver on his chest.

Acacius knew too damn well what he was doing, taunting you again like this. You didn’t think you had it in yourself to come again, but the General seemed to think otherwise.

His index found your clit and stroked it maddingly slow. Seemed like he was right.

You gasped, chewing your bottom lip, your mind drifting away at his intimate touch.

“I think you can come for me again, don’t you?”

You whimpered in response, lifting your bent left leg until it rested on of his lap, so he could reach your swollen, reddened pussy better. You humped the side of his thigh, grinding on his hairy skin to get you off.

“You’re drenched,” he purred with satisfaction, kissing your forehead as your seeping hole sucked in his finger eagerly. You moaned. “Seems like you need me to take care of you again, mel.”

His fingering had you drooling onto his chest until you came again, sobbing like a babe gasping for their first breath. Your limbs felt numb as your pussy pulsed a few more times, releasing the last of your arousal onto Marcus’ palm. He rubbed your seam, cupping your whole pussy, until you were completely done.

Then tapped your cunt softly, gently. “Feeling calmer now?”

You nodded, blissed out and speechless.

You remained on top of his chest while coming down from your latest high. You had lost count of how many times Marcus had made you come now, but keeping count had not been on your foremind. What you had realised though was that this―whatever this was―was dangerous.

You had expected Marcus to behave exactly like Iain ― to take you how he wanted and discard you when he was done with you. Yet here he was, making sure you had no more orgasm to give him tonight. This was not your plan at all ― you banked on him being a complete monster who would ravish you given the chance.

This could complicate everything, and you even wondered if you should stop this madness before shit got too real.

A man with a rotten heart would not have you question your decisions. Perhaps it wasn’t rotten, only spoilt.

It’s just sex, a means to an end. Doesn’t matter how good, how fucking delicious he makes it to be. Fuck him, enjoy it, get what you need from him, then destroy him. Easy, you reminded yourself, albeit with less determination than before.

“I should be going,” you mumbled, unwilling to leave this bed despite the inner talk you just gave yourself ― your bed that now was his.

“So soon?” he whispered, his lips twitching in a pout.

Damn him for making it difficult to leave.

“My aunt will be wondering where I’ve gone. Can’t risk her coming here looking for me, can we?” you tried to make light of the situation with a white lie.

“I guess not,” he finally agreed after a brief silence, then kissed your forehead. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Patience is a virtue, Marcus,” you mocked him a bit, sitting up on the bed. “And mine has run out, I’m afraid. Aye, I’ll come tomorrow.”

Marcus sat up on bed too, hugging your waist, his mouth dangerously close to yours.

“I will make sure that you come tomorrow, mel,” the double meaning was not lost on you, even less on your gushing pussy.

You swallowed a whimper, kissing his lips briefly to then jump out of bed and grab your clothes off the floor. You put them on as fast as you could.

“You better,” you threatened him, softening the gesture with a wink, before you disappeared through the door.

@orcasoul @immyowndefender @sjc7542 @fairiebabey

@thepalaceofmelanie @harriedandharassed @whoaitspascal87

@verybigvag @jessthebaker @ivoryandflame @missadangel

@pepperstories @mewantpeepaw @inept-the-magnificent

[tabithatwo]

What do you think about the scene in ep1 where Shauna masturbates on her daughters bed while looking at pictures of her boyfriend? Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but I found it disturbingly similar to younger Shauna sleeping with Jackie's boyfriend

Oh hey, so this response is like perhaps over a year late but someone else asked me about this and I remembered I had 3/4 of this response drafted so hi I’m here now lmao

Anon, I do NOT think you’re overthinking this scene. I actually think there is so much room to think about this scene that a thesis could be written on it. It’s so layered and an incredibly bold choice on the show’s part to include it. It is our introduction to adult Shauna, and I think that the creators of the show clearly felt that it was very important.

This scene made me so uncomfortable as a first time casual viewer that I actually tried to rationalize it away. I remember saying aloud to the person I was watching with “No, that has to be her own childhood bedroom, right? She must be, like, visiting her aging parents?” Clearly I was ignoring the very ridiculous set design of Callie’s room entirely lol, but my mind wanted to find a different explanation. And it took me a while to come around to really loving Shauna as a first time viewer of the show, in part due to how much that scene shocked me.

All that to say, it is absolutely reasonable to find yourself very uncomfortable when thinking about that scene, as many people say that they do when they’re proclaiming that they wish it didn’t exist in the show. But I don’t think that means the scene should be ignored by any means. That discomfort is the point of the scene. Shauna is such a fascinating character, because she swings back and forth from shockingly depraved and cruel, to heartbreakingly kind and loving. She draws both the audience AND the other characters into this unpredictable back and forth with her, and it is easy for us AND them to forget what she is truly capable of when she is in one of her sweeter moments. That is what makes her one of the most fascinating characters of all time to me.

Okay, now we can get into my personal interpretation of this scene. I have always felt it was about Jackie. I think that was clear early on, but, after s2 aired, having more information about Shauna’s relationship with Callie did impact my interpretation of the scene and solidify some suspicions I had.

Shauna clearly does not see Callie as her daughter in any traditional sense. She tells Lottie as much, that she never could fully believe Callie was real and hers. And we see, with increasing clarity as the show goes on, that Shauna views Callie as a peer more than anything. Shauna has both stunted development and difficulty expressing affection. We see her tell Callie that it would’ve been easier if she HAD just had sex with the cop. That’s a very strong indicator of their dynamic. Shauna just doesn’t have the capacity to mother Callie.

That is important context because, with the scene in Callie’s bedroom, Shauna is recreating the thing she used to do when she was young and Jackie was alive. I don’t think she is even thinking about the fact that it’s her daughter’s boyfriend or bedroom, because she doesn’t even really think of Callie as her daughter much of the time. It’s so complex and muddled and, you guessed it, uncomfortable!

In my opinion, people are NOT ready for the intricacies of the ways Callie is a Jackie proxy for Shauna to be developed further. Like the show is establishing it pretty heavily, and I think in a very compelling way, but if it goes down that road more explicitly I have a feeling that people are not going to be able to separate the WAYS in which Shauna sees Jackie in her, if that makes sense.

I think s2 did have some compelling threads of this. Shauna caring for the Jackie corpse doll and getting frustrated and “hurting” her with the ear coming off scene. Shauna not being able to protect her, initiating and endorsing the consumption of her, then hinting at having fears that she’d hurt the baby when she was pregnant, losing the baby, worrying that they’d do to the baby what they did to Jackie, twisting it so much that she can’t help but believe they ate the baby too.

She associated the baby with Jackie very heavily. And in doing so, I think she parentified herself to Jackie in a really fascinating way, like Jackie was her first failure.

If she couldn’t care properly for Jackie, who loved her so much (and became an actual martyr and saint to her), and she couldn’t care for her children who were absolute innocents, then she must be the epitome of horrible and she should squash those caring instincts bc clearly they aren’t actually Good, type shit. That’s how I feel like Shauna spirals into her destructive behavior.

So what happens here, imo, is that Shauna doesn’t really see any of her relationships clearly. I don’t think she consciously thinks of Jackie as The Girl She Was In Love With, and I don’t think she consciously thinks of Callie as her daughter most of the time. Shauna just thinks of them both as people she has loved and failed, as well as people who piss her the fuck off and make her feel trapped in a life she doesn’t want.

She sees a lot of Jackie in Callie, and she acts out in really horrifying ways throughout the entire show to try and gain control, and this scene is one of them. Shauna has always used sex as a way to reclaim control, even when it is absolutely insanely inappropriate, and often when it isn’t at all about actual pleasure. We see more of this in s2, when she BRINGS JEFF TO THE ART STUDIO OF THE MAN SHE KILLED AND FUCKS HIM THERE (that was fucking INSANELY risky and destructive). With masturbating on Callie’s bed, looking at a pic of her bf, Shauna is acting from the same place she was when taking Jeff from Jackie in a way, and I get why that’s uncomfortable to watch. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable, it is SUPPOSED to!

But I think that we are viewing it with so much more logic and thought than Shauna is capable of applying. We draw conclusions from it that are based on a sane person, and Shauna is far from that. I think Shauna is briefly recreating multiple feelings and motivations that drove her to sleep with Jeff as a teenager. The sexual side of things is so wholly Jackie driven, she is constantly seeking ways to feel the way she felt when she was creating that proxy sexual connection with Jackie that she verbatim discusses with Jeff (which is so crazy btw not over that scene). But the side that relates to Callie is driven purely by the frustration and anger. Again, I don’t think Shauna has consciously thought about ANY of it, but if I had to interpret the driving emotions, then I think those would be the most likely.

And I think what it says about Shauna is that she is not living in reality in the slightest. You can not overstate the lack of conscious thought that goes into her actions when she does these things. She is acting on pure impulse, and without any certainty that anything is actually real.

She breaks my heart and this convo about the masturbation scene is so interesting to me because YEAH, that was a ROUGH introduction! and it took me rewatches to allow myself to dig into her character and that’s the point tbh.

On instinct, people either see the actions clearly and hate her, or obscure them to the point of forgetting they happened and love her. But it’s much harder to reckon with them and dig in and come out still loving her.

(I truly can’t believe I have to say this, but I was recently introduced to the fact that yj incest shippers exist, so disclaimer: this is NOT meant to be taken as a romantic or sexual interpretation of Shauna and Callie’s relationship at all. In fact, when I say that I don’t think people are ready for detangling the WAYS in which Shauna sees Jackie in Callie this is exactly what I mean. I just assumed people would wrongly assume it was That and be horrified. I didn’t consider the opposite, and I would like to continue not considering the opposite, so I will prob block anyone who engages with this in that way simply bc I do not want to see it and this is my social media lol)

[dr-spectre]

Rambling about Marie....

I wanna quickly talk about something because i was looking around on Inkipedia and i stumbled across this interesting dialogue exchange from Callie and Marie during the live performance at Tokaigi in 2018.

Now i have talked about the official translation of this dialogue before a while back and it's surprisingly very different from the translation done on Inkipedia. Now this could be just a very rough translation and that's why the Inkipedia one is so different but i find it to be very interesting.

In the original Japanese dialogue it's more clear that Callie is making a joke and playing around with Marie and Marie freaks out a little. But Callie says "just kidding!" to ease Marie. However, in the official English translation, Marie is way more harsh and seemingly dismissive of what Callie has gone through. And Callie just goes, "Whatevs!" Like... it's pretty damn different tone wise.

The English translation makes Callie seem more like some airheaded idiot that doesn't remember what happened because "oooo brainwashing ooooo", but in the Japanese script, its more clear that Callie is being obviously snarky and cheeky towards Marie and she does remember what happened which is more in line with her character. Callie is not a dumbass, you have been fed lies. She's able to pick up on other people's emotions, especially her cousin's as she quickly says "just kidding!" to make sure Marie doesn't freak out too much and to know she's just joking around with her.

(Side note, only in the English translation do they call what Callie has gone through "brainwashing" and other characters like sanitized Agent 3 and Marina Agitando even though that's not really happened. In other languages it's always referred to as hypnosis. We don't have a fan retranslation of the Japanese dialogue for Splatoon 2 from my knowledge so i cant comment on that either unfortunately.)

Now to get to the point, It got me wondering... Does Marie have trauma or any sort of stress from Splatoon 2? And is that why she's way less snarky towards Callie in Splatoon 3 because she's terrified of Callie ever running away again and doing something irrational like joining the Octarians? From the Squid Sister Stories we can see that Marie often worries about Callie and overthinks a lot.

Even though Marie seems a lot more happy in Splatoon 3 and has matured a lot since the first game, like Splatoon 1 Marie is a different person from Splatoon 3 Marie. I think most of that maturing is out of fear and anxiety. Like you can't just brush aside your own cousin running away and the next time you see her, she's wearing some crazy outfit and is trying to murder an agent you hired to go find her in the first place. That would mess anyone up and especially someone like Marie who does have some mental troubles brewing under the surface.

I kinda wished they dived a little bit more into it but alas, we don't have a lot of stuff to go off of between Splatoon 2 and 3 as by the time the thrid game comes around Callie and Marie have matured and grown a lot in those 4 to 5 years. Which is good of course! But... I really would have liked to see Marie deal with the aftermath of those events. Maybe I'm asking too much i don't know...

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part thirteen

authors note: this one is super long, ya'll! i don't necessarily like how long it is, but i couldn't cut it in half because there was no good cutoff point. so, i apologize to the readers with short attention spans! also, the very last part is not known to the characters, it's just context for what's happening....

this chapter takes place on February 2nd, 2024. yes, i'm aligning it with the real life dates of smackdown shows lol.

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, smut, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 10k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

You’d forgotten how uncomfortable flights are and how much they irk you.

It's mostly the not being in control that bothers you. You can admit as much. On the jet wasn’t as difficult because you had Joe, and while Alexis is a nice companion, she’s not your man. No one can make you feel as safe and calm as he does.

However, there's some peace in seeing how well Callie is doing on her first flight. Your undercover social butterfly of a child has made friends with the flight crew who have taken her under their wing, allowing her to be a pretend flight attendant for the short flight. 

So her spending time with the flight crew allows you and Alexis time to talk, cause why not distract yourself with a heavy ass conversation while 30,000 feet up in the air? 

Alexis takes a sip of her wine, included with the first class tickets she purchased for the three of you. “Just let me know when you get back to the hotel tonight. I’ll watch Cal Gal for ya’ll.”

Confused, you ask, “why would we need you to watch her?”

She answers so casually, “so y'll can fuck. Duh.”

You sigh…..of course. “Alexis, this trip is not for that. We’re here so Callie can spend time with her daddy.” And that’s the truth. You’re most excited to see Callie’s happiness at being reunited with her dad.

“He’s your daddy too,” she wiggles her brows, and you look away. This heifer is way too much sometimes. “All I’m saying is it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Too long. “I’m not saying I don’t want to. It’s just not a priority, and I’m still not on birth control.” It hasn’t been very high on your to-do list, especially with him being gone as long as he has. But also….there’s a small part of you that doesn’t want to get on it, and it’s not because of any health concerns. 

“Tell him to pull out,” she suggests with a shrug, but your face must give it away. “Oh my god, he doesn’t want to, does he?”

Having this conversation on a plane, or at all, probably isn’t the best idea, but it’s something you’ve been thinking about since the night of your date. Even more as you grew closer to being reunited with him. “When we had sex that night, he asked me if I was on birth control.”

“Like, after?”

“No, like as he was literally blowing my back out.”

“Damn,” she mutters. If you know Alexis like you think you do, the ‘damn’ is also because she’s mentally conjuring that image. Freaky ass. Shaking her head, she then asks, “and you told him no, right?”

“Of course, but you know what he said in response?” Blowing out a deep breath, your head falls back against the headrest. “He said good, Alexis.”

Her mouth drops open, and you move to slap your palm over her lips. “Remember, we are on a plane, and my daughter is somewhere in the vicinity.”

This seems to help. A little. Removing your hand, she harshly whispers, “he’s trying to get you pregnant again!”

“I don’t think it’s that,” you answer honestly. “I think—I think it’s more if it happens, he wouldn’t be opposed.” And you believe that. You know Joe. He’s many things, and assertive is near the top of that list. He would straight up tell you if he wanted to get you pregnant…..you think.

She studies you, always so damn perceptive and knowing. “You feel the same way too, don’t you?”

“I don’t—” You can’t finish your sentence, because she’s not entirely wrong. It makes no logical sense for you to even be having this conversation, let alone thinking about this. Having a baby right now is one of the dumbest things you could do. You’re having a hard enough time as it is just finding gaps for Joe to spend time with the child you already have.

But. 

There’s also this side of you that sees where this is headed. You know that your future is with this man. There’s no outcome you can figure where you two don’t end up together, and Alexis wasn’t wrong before she’d asked/reminded you that you want more kids. You want more kids with him. Want to give Callie a sibling. 

Just….not right now.

You can’t even find it in you to tell this man you love him, but you want him to give you another baby? It doesn’t add up. 

There’s a part of you that wonders if it comes from a place of fear. 

For so long, you dreamed and wished for this to happen, for you to be with Joe, to have a future with him. It kept you up at night the fact that it would never be a possibility, but still, you dreamed. And now that all of it is happening, you wonder if there’s fear it could all go away so you’re trying to make the best of it.

Even though, deep down, you know there’s no reality where Joe could be away from Callie. You? Yes, maybe. Though slim to none. But while he loves you, Callie is his soul. He’d burn the whole world down if that’s what it took to be with her. 

And that means he’ll always, to some extent, be in your life.

“Maybe.” Is the much shorter versioned answer you settle for. “So, for now, no sex until I figure this out.” Even saying it aloud, you’re not sure you entirely believe it. It’s a nice plan, but plans often change.

Especially when they involve Joe.

Alexis groans. “I love you, babes, but sometimes you’re so damn exhausting. There’s literally nothing to figure out. That man would marry you tomorrow if he could. You just gotta let go of the past, enjoy the present, and work towards the future.” She then adds, “then again, you said the same thing last time about no sex, and that man still fucked you six different ways from Sunday, so who knows.”

As much as you want to protest, you can’t. Your resolve when it comes to Joe, in almost all areas, is embarrassingly weak. 

________

Being backstage is such a blast from the past, so reminiscent of so many years back when you and Mariah were just stoked at the possibility of meeting Cena, unaware of how that one night would change the trajectory of your entire life.

There’s a small part of you saddened at how things have changed so much with Mariah, but that’s an issue for another day. Your focus is on the here and now.

Similarly, Callie seems just as intrigued, but for different reasons. She keeps her hand in yours but her eyes scan around, growing hopeful with each turn of the corner that she’ll be met with the one thing she’s looking for. Or, rather, who she’s looking for.

Alexis somehow arranged a private tour backstage, thus “ditching” you as soon as ya’ll arrived to the arena. However, you also know she believes this is a “personal thing" and doesn’t want to “invade.” You tried to tell her that she was more than welcome, but she wasn’t hearing it. You’re so grateful for all of her support. It means so much to you. 

One of the security guards flanking you and Callie tries to make small conversation, and you’re partially grateful but mostly annoyed. Your anxiety is already on the higher end than you’d like it to be, especially when all you wanted was to remain calm and collected for Callie’s sake. But having someone blabber about something you have no interest in doesn’t do much to help that.

Too bad it’s not a distraction, though, because you’re starting to second guess your decision. It’s a bold move not only coming to Joe's “job,” but bringing Callie too. Not that he’d ever complain or be upset at getting to see her, but not making him aware ahead of time is suddenly seeming like not the best idea. No matter what Jon says.

You know you ultimately had to keep him in the dark, because he’d ask questions as to why, not from suspicion but just natural curiosity. And you don’t want to lie to him. You need to talk to him about Callie, but you want to do so in person. That’s not a phone or even Facetime kind of conversation. 

What if he isn’t ready for you to go “public”? To make Callie’s existence “public”? Sure, you have zero expectation of him letting ya’ll leave backstage, thus making it easy to hide out from cameras, but still, this is his workplace. He deserves some privacy. 

So deep in your head and thoughts, you miss when you turn the final, lucky corner, only to realize when Callie gasps loudly, “daddy!”

She rips her hand from yours, and you briefly panic when she starts running away only to see who she’s running to. 

Joe’s standing there among who you’d guess are WWE execs, clearly in the midst of conversation, when his head snaps in your direction. His eyes immediately land on Callie. He’s briefly confused, but a big smile replaces that confusion as he reaches down to catch Callie. She throws her little body against his, and you watch him stand up with her still in his arms, kissing her cheek and hugging her closely.

You walk over to them, offering a small, apologetic smile to the people now watching with slight puzzlement.

“Callie Bear,” he murmurs, mouth pressed to the top of her head. Your anxiety is already lessening. There’s not an ounce of anger or irritation painted in his handsome features, only an immense amount of appreciation and satisfaction at seeing his little girl. 

“Surprise!” She shouts, smiling broadly. “Mommy said we could come see you since you can’t come see us!”

“And I’m glad you did,” he murmurs. “I missed you, baby girl.” She lays her head against his chest, obviously having missed him just as much. His eyes then land on you as you finally reach the duo. Your smile is small, even as he reaches and pulls you against his free side, stealing a quick kiss. “I missed you too, mama.”

His words do something so warm and fuzzy to your insides. “We figured if you couldn’t make it to us, we’d come to you.” Relief is so heavy over you. You’re pretty sure you’ve just given Joe one of the best surprises he could ever receive. You look over at the people still awkwardly standing by and then to him. “I’m sorry, did she interr—”

“No.” He seems almost insulted that you would even ask such a thing. He directs to them, “later.”

Without protest, they disperse, walking away. It’s so interesting seeing how much he’s grown since you first met him. Back then he was young, still trying to prove himself. Now he’s the literal face of the company. It starts and ends with him. 

“I was on a plane!” Callie informs with that award winning smile. “I’ve never been on a plane before!”

“You haven’t?” It’s difficult to tell if he’s feigning surprise for the sake of engaging her on her level or genuinely can’t believe she’s never flown before. “Were you scared?”

She shakes her head. “It was lotsa fun!”

Joe chuckles and kisses her cheek. “That’s my brave girl.”

She giggles as he tickles her stomach. “I saw clouds! Ooh and birdies! And the nice flight lady gave me cookies cause she said I was a good girl!” As Callie starts to ramble and catch Joe up on a second by second play of the plane ride, he gives you a pat on the hip and directs you to walk with him. His arm around your waist, the other holding up Callie, you can’t deny how natural this feels, the three of you.

Joe takes you to his locker room which is as nice as you would expect it to be for the guy in WWE. You take your seat in the single chair, allowing Callie and Joe to take the sofa even though she’s barely next to him for five minutes before climbing into his lap and pulling out her tablet to show him what she’s made in some of her apps.

You pull your phone out and see that you have a few unread texts, the one from Alexis making you laugh aloud.

Alexis: Would you still love me if I fucked Logan Paul?

Shaking your head, you type out a response. 

You: yes. just a little less.

Alexis: It’s just an appetizer. I plan to leave with the number of someone from that damn Bloodline tonight. Tell BDJ to hook me up.

You: would you please stop calling him that? 😭

Alexis: I’ll stop when it stops being true 🤷🏽‍♀️

You: you’re a menace.

Alexis: Stop texting me and focus on your man.

You: he’s in callie world right now, which is exactly where he should be. i keep telling you this trip was for her. 

Alexis: It can be for you too if you stop being stupid and start by telling him, I don’t know, THAT YOU LOVE HIM. 

You: goodbye, alexis 🙄

Alexis: I’m about to fuck this white boy anyway, but you know I’m right!!!

Alexis: I hope he doesn’t have fleas.

It takes everything in you not to scream. This girl is really crazy. Switching threads, you text your mom.

You: we made it here. she’s so happy. 🥺 he is too. i’m glad i took her.

Opening up the camera app, you sneak and snap a photo of the two of them. Reviewing it makes your heart swell. Callie is clearly deep in explanation while Joe holds her, partially following her discussion but mostly just enraptured in having her with him. 

You send the photo to your mom who responds almost immediately. 

Mom: Awww. I’m glad you did too. Enjoy yourself, baby. Take lots of pictures. ♥️

“Oooh!” Callie’s semi-loud exclamation pulls you away from the text thread. “Look what mommy got me!” Callie hops off Joe’s lap and spins around, moving her hair to the side to show off the back of her hoodie.

Naturally, you move your eyes to Joe, watching closely and carefully as he travels through a variety of emotions: shock, happiness, love. He’s clearly moved. A warm smile sets on your face. “I love it, baby.” He finally speaks, the emotion undeniable in his voice. Joe’s gaze sets on you, and you don’t need him to say anything to know what he’s thinking.

Mouthing ‘you’re welcome’, you settle back into the sofa, watching as Callie returns to her spot in his lap to finish catching him up on all the things he’s missed in his long absence.  

You occupy yourself on your phone, catching up on some work emails and parent messages because it doesn’t seem to matter how many different ways you make them aware of an absence, they’re still going to message you like you didn’t let them know you’d be out of office for the next few days.

Sometimes you can’t tell much of a difference between your students and their parents. They’re both equally out of touch.

At some point, Callie moves to the middle of the floor to empty out her backpack that you still don’t know just how she managed to pack as much as she did in. She seemed hellbent on bringing all of these items, mostly artsy things, to share with Joe. And you didn’t want to stop her, so you let it be. 

However, you end up catching Joe’s eye, and he motions you to come over to him. But, being the brat you are, you take your time doing so. And of course, because everything about this man is large, it’s nothing for him to reach his long arms out to tug you in front of him. His hands are on your hips, and you can tell he’s trying to keep the placement appropriate for the sake of Callie. 

“You’re quiet,” he observes, discerning you.

Shugging, you answer honestly, “I want you to have your time with Callie. She’s really missed you.” One thing you’re most definitely not looking forward to is the discussion regarding the real reason for this surprise trip. You already know it’s going to make Joe feel awful, and that’s not the goal. You just don’t want to keep anything else from him as it pertains to Callie. He doesn’t deserve that.

“And what about you?” He asks, suddenly, “Did you miss me?”

Chuckling, you brush your fingers against his soft hair, pulled back in his go-to bun. “I always miss you, Joe.” The delivery is much more gentle than intended, albeit entirely true. Pre-Callie and Post-Callie, maybe even moreso now, Joe’s extended absences affected you in various ways. Being around him right now is making you more aware of just how much, even as your brain jumps to how nice it’ll be to not sleep alone tonight. That was something you always loved about Joe when he came to visit years back, how he would always bring you against his hard body, strong arms securing you. You always slept the best when he was in town. 

Of course, this is way too vulnerable of a conversation to have with your daughter present, so you change subjects. “But, I also wanted to see Cody Rhodes, cause you know I’m team finish the story,” you tease, giggling at his instant scowl. It’s a lie, and you know he knows it’s a lie. Cody is cool, but you’re Team Roman (Joe) all day every day. Still, it’s in your nature to stir up trouble and pick with him. 

“Dick rider,” he mutters loud enough for you to hear but low enough for Callie not to. 

Smirking, you lean down to whisper in his ear. “Naw, baby, that’s for you and you only.” 

Trying to move away is a fruitless effort because he yanks you onto his lap, your thighs over his legs as he murmurs against your earlobe. “Don’t play with me like that.”

“Mommy, I wanna sit there.” Callie’s jealous voice suddenly enters the conversation, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at her pout. She’s so possessive. “He’s my daddy, not yours.”

You gasp quietly when he squeezes your ass, forcing you to climb off him. “You’re very right, Callie Bear.” Moving back to your chair, you taunt, “he’s not my daddy.”

It’s hilarious watching Joe control himself for the sake of Callie, but his expression tells you everything you need to know. If not for her presence, he’d have you bent over, taking every inch of his thick dick as he reminds you just who you belong to.

The image shouldn’t excite you as much as it does.

Sure enough, Callie climbs her little self back onto the sofa and back onto Joe’s lap, but the sound of an almost rhythmic knock at his door draws the attention of all three of you. However, before Joe can respond, the door is swung open, and based upon the lack of consent, you expect to see Alexis. Instead, you’re met with a different set of folks. 

“Come in,” Joe says sarcastically, and you glare, standing up to greet them. 

“Whassup, Y/N? Long time, no see, girl.” Jon’s introduction is so typical and expected, but it still makes you laugh. He’s always been a hoot to be around. 

“Good to see you, Jon.” He hugs you, and you turn to Josh who’s also wearing a friendly grin.

“Lil hurt you ain’t hit me up to help you with the surprise.” He sucks his teeth but still hugs you, as you shake your head.

“I thought you’d be on Raw,” you answer. It’s the truth, even if who exactly helped you make this happen didn’t matter as much as ensuring it did in fact happen.

“That why you been acting weird?” Joe’s voice enters the conversation. “You knew?”

“We both knew,” Joshua answers as you give Jon a look. 

He asks, ��what?”

Sucking your teeth, you cross your arms, “I told you not to tell nobody!”

“I didn’t! It’s just Josh.” He shrugs, and you can only shake your head. There’s a reason these two are so popular in the WWE. A lot of their promos could be ripped from real life interactions. 

“Y/N!” Trinity's gorgeous smile is the first thing you notice followed by her surprise introduction, even before her colorful gear that you’ve always been so amazed by as she rushes over to you. She stretches her arm, “it’s so good to see you again!” Smiling, you accept her hug, tight and genuine. In the few interactions you’d had with her, she was also so kind and friendly. It’s nice to see that hasn’t changed.

“It’s good to see you too, Trin.” You mean it. She's just a genuinely chill person.

Looking over to Callie, you see she’s still sitting on Joe’s lap, holding onto his hoodie, obviously trying to read the room full of strangers. Jon must notice this too as he looks her way as well, giving her that warm smile.

“And this….” He starts walking toward her, crouching down in front of the sofa. “---this must be the famous Ms. Callie.”

A small chuckle leaves your mouth watching her suddenly “hide” her face in Joe’s side, as one eye is still peaked open. 

You whisper over to the group, “don’t let her fool you. She’s shy at first, but then she won’t be quiet.” It’s a conversation so similar to Callie’s first meeting with Joe which feels so long ago now. 

Joe’s also clearly a bit amused at her sudden shyness and goes to introduce them. “Callie, these are my cousins, Jon and Josh.” She looks up with a quizzical expression and motions with her hand for him to lean down. He does so, and she whispers something in his ear. His smile grows as he answers, “they are.” Looking still a bit skeptical, she waves her hand again. Take two. He dips his head, and she whispers something else. Again, he answers, “yup.” At this, she gasps and jumps off the sofa, running over to you. 

Callie hugs your legs and “whispers” to you with all of the excitement, “mommy, they’re my cousins too! I have cousins!” 

It takes a lot out of you not to get emotional in this moment. She’s so damn happy at this news, at finding out she has more family. You lean down and push back some of her loose curls. “You surely do, baby.”

Finally pleased with the confirmation, she turns around and beams at the twins and Trinity, “hi! I’m Callie!”

There’s a chorus of laughter as Trinity speaks this time, “it’s very nice to meet you, Callie.”

“You’re pretty,” Callie compliments, and Trin places a hand over her chest, clearly touched by her kindness. 

“Oh my gosh, you’re so sweet,” she awes as Josh joins in, introducing himself as Callie stares at him for a second.

“You’re a twin,” she says it like this is the first time he’s ever heard as such or even realized as such. 

Josh does a good job going along with it, nodding and smiling. “I sure am.”

Callie suddenly turns to you. “Mommy, how come I don’t have a twin?”

“Because Jesus loved mommy enough not to do that to me.” Childbirth is equally horrific as it is beautiful, and while you’re forever grateful for your sweet child, you’ll never forget that pain. Pushing her out was torture. You can’t even begin to imagine having to do it twice, back to back. 

Twins….never.

Josh suddenly chimes before Callie can present a follow-up question. “I have a little girl who’s a couple years older than you, and I can’t wait for ya’ll to meet.”

She gasps loudly. “I have more cousins?”

Jon sucks his teeth and answers, “Girl, you got so many cousins, you might meet em’ all before you turn 18.”

Her jaw drops. “I'll be really old then!”

Shaking your head, you start to counter her when Joe speaks up, calling her name.

“You have another cousin here tonight, baby girl.” There’s a second of confusion, but you realize he must be talking about Solo Sikoa. You hadn’t met him, as he came onto the scene after you and Joe separated. But as you told Joe, he’s free to introduce you to any and all family. You want this for your little girl. It’s obvious just from her reaction to the twins and Trin, she wants it as well. “Do you wanna meet him?”

It’s a no brainer, Callie nodding furiously as she runs to jump back on the sofa, sitting next to Joe.

He laughs at her enthusiasm and then calls out, “come in.” It’s loud enough for whoever is on the other side of the door to do so, and while you expect to see the final member of the bloodline enter the space, you’re thoroughly and shockingly surprised to see that you are very wrong.

Because through the door aren't the footsteps and subsequent entrance of Solo Sikoa.

It’s Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. 

While you’re in a semi state of shock, Callie is in a pure state of unadulterated delirium, and it’s entirely expected given she knows this man as something else. 

Someone else.

“Maui!” 

The entire room erupts in laughter as Callie rushes to stand in front of Dwayne who gets down on one knee to be more eye to eye with her.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Callie.”

Joe also moves closer and bends down, hand on Callie’s back. “Calista, this is my cousin, Dwayne, so that means he’s yo—”

“Maui is my cousin!” 

This little girl is damn near screaming, but it’s so hard to tell her to quiet down when you’re pretty sure this may be the single most happiest moment of her life.

Next to finding out Joe is her dad, of course.

Once your own shock wears off, you pull your phone out to snap a few photos, almost wishing you knew ahead of time The freaking Rock was going to be present tonight. You also would have tried to make yourself look a little more presentable, especially when Joe introduces you to his cousin as well. 

And of course because you’re the one who starts taking pictures, it’s only a matter of time before you’re dragged into a few of your own. It’s an easy pass, as you feel entirely underdressed with your all black one piece, long cardigan, and boots, having dressed comfortably for traveling. Not photo-ops. 

But, it’s when Callie pouts and says so sweetly, all the innocence in the world, “but we’re a family” that it actually hits you for the first time. 

You, Joe, Callie….you don’t just feel like a family. You are one. 

So you push aside your vanity and swallow back the tears to partake in a slate of photos involving everyone to just you, Callie, and Joe to even just a couple of you and Joe. Your favorites are most definitely the ones with the three of you, especially one where Joe sits you down on his left leg and Callie on his right. He squeezes your side, forcing a squeal and laugh that makes Callie laugh as well, creating such an organic, beautiful moment between the three of you.

A family.

—-----------

The night keeps on bringing more and more surprises, the latest one being the fact that instead of hiding out backstage, you, Alexis, and Callie are seated ringside in the VIP section with other family members and close friends of the wrestlers. 

It’s…..definitely not what you expected. You’re not opposed, especially since Callie was thrilled to learn she’d be much closer to Joe out here than she would from the back, but it’s just not what you were expecting.

It’s so…..public.

“How long does it take someone to walk out like da—”

“Alexis!” You scold her, even if you slightly agree. It’s not that you’re not enjoying yourself. You are. You just would much rather see your man, and you know Callie feels the same way. Every so often she’ll lift her head from her tablet, hoping to see Joe only to be disappointed.

You tried to tell her that as soon as she hears his music, he’ll come out, but that was nearly 45 minutes ago. A part of you wishes you could have found somewhere backstage to hide out as Joe and the others eventually had to leave to cut a promo.

So while Alexis' delivery is slightly off, she has somewhat of a valid point.

Rolling her eyes, she looks your way, asking. “Can you text him and tell him to hurry up?” 

Shaking your head, you answer with just as much sass and sarcasm. “Yes, I’ll get right on—”

And that’s when you hear it. 

“Oh shit,” Alexis pulls out her phone, instantly starting to record because this whole trip apparently needs to be memorialized with photo and video. Not that you’re entirely or in any way opposed. This is Callie’s first time at one of her dad’s shows. It’s special and should be documented in one way or another. 

Looking to your side, you see her tablet is on the empty seat next to her, and she’s reaching for you to pick her up so she can see better. 

Quickly obliging, you hike her on your hip and laugh at her excited expression. Her eyes are scanning all over for him, so you direct her to where he should be walking out any minute. 

“I wonder whose music that is,” Alexis teases, and you turn with Callie to face the phone that’s capturing this moment. 

Callie answers proudly. “My daddy’s!”

You and Lex laugh at her excitement that grows exponentially when Joe finally walks out, flanked by his cousins and Paul. 

“There he is!” She points, and you smile, kissing her cheek. This is all so worth it, the pure joy and glee on her face. You follow her line of vision, focusing on the Tribal Chief himself.

Damn. 

Joe is one fine ass man. That’s it. That’s the tweet. But when he’s in his Roman role? That confidence, that swagger……everything sexy about him is amped up times ten. You may have to rethink your stance on no sex for this trip.

It feels almost criminal to be around this man and not ride him until you can’t no more.

The naughty thoughts are temporarily pushed away when you notice Callie is nodding her head to Joe’s entrance music. Laughing, you and Alexis join in. Lex is still recording, and you’re actually happy she is because she gets it on camera when Callie throws up the one to ‘acknowledge' him. Your heart swells. There’s something about that moment that’s so precious to you, to see how connected she feels with him. How closely they’ve bonded. How much she loves him. And even more, how much he loves her.

As they near the ring, you notice how Joe branches off from them, and you assume it’s because of whatever this promo entails. But, you quickly realize it’s because he’s headed toward you. There’s this brief sense of panic on your end, meanwhile Callie gasps in excitement and reaches for him. Joe hugs her and kisses her temple. Touched at the gesture, you look at her only for Joe to take you by equal surprise when he grabs your chin and kisses you as well. 

What…..the…..hell?

You’re not upset, just genuinely surprised that he would be so openly affectionate with you, maybe not Callie as much, but definitely you. So….public. You’re certain that your face is painted in shock the whole time, but it’s when he heads into the ring that you and Alexis share a look, Callie too focused on her daddy to notice anything else.

“Girl, if you don’t tell that man you love him, I’m gonna tell him for you.” She could be joking. She could be serious. You never really know with Alexis. “Because he literally just acknowledged you in front of all these people.”

There’s still a part of you that’s having difficulty processing what just happened. You were worried that Joe would feel some type of way about you and Callie coming to his job, just staying backstage, but this man really has you both ringside and broke character just to show you and Callie affection. 

If there was ever any doubt in your mind regarding his feelings for you, tonight has completely demolished it.

Alexis is right.

You need to tell him. 

And you need to tell him tonight.

________

As much excitement as the day has brought, you knew it was only a matter of time before it caught up to your still very young child. Joe’s segment with The Rock ended up being the closing promo, which worked out great because Callie started to doze off a bit right around that time. And when you’re finally able to reunite with Joe backstage, she’s all but sleeping in your arms. 

In having to buckle and unbuckle her in her car seat for the travel to the hotel, she stirs a bit, but as soon as you arrive and Joe removes her from the car seat, the end of the travels, you know she’s out for the night. 

He carries her into the hotel room and walks her into the main bedroom while you place the bag you have for both her and yourself near the “living room” area. Joe insisted he could handle both the luggage and Callie, but you insisted that he instead focus on your little girl.

You also take a moment to take in that this is an actual hotel room instead of an apartment. There are literally two bedrooms separated by doors and all and two bathrooms, both of which rival the size of Callie’s bedroom. 

It’s definitely not your local motel from back home.

Joe walks back in, no Callie in sight. “She is knocked out.”

“I knew she would tap out eventually. She’s been up all day, refused to nap.” He walks over to you, hands on your hips as he tugs you close. Your hands move to his chest. “She was too excited to see you.”

“Thank you, by the way,” he murmurs. “For bringing her.” 

You chew on your bottom lip. “I almost didn’t. I—I didn’t know if you’d be upset I didn’t ask you first.”

His furrowed brows tell you that couldn’t be farther from the truth. “Why would I be upset?”

You shrug, suddenly unsure of yourself, which is such a foreign feeling. Confident is always a word you’d use to describe yourself, but in this moment, having this discussion, it’s not as applicable. “I guess….I guess I wasn’t too sure if you’d want people knowing about me.” Your voice softens. “About Callie.” 

And it’s true. It’s one thing for Joe to be out in public with Callie back home, but it’s an entirely different thing to be out in public in his world.

Granted, his public display of affection tonight should have squashed that concern. 

Just your implication alone seems to be a dagger to his chest. Joe brings his hands to your face and speaks with such confidence and conviction. “I’m not ashamed of you. I’m not ashamed of us, and I’m damn sure not ashamed of my daughter. I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. Do I want to do an exclusive interview about us? Hell no. But, that’s because my personal life is nobody’s business but my own. I’m not hiding your or our daughter from anyone in my personal life, not my friends, not my family, and not the WWE.” 

For a second, you feel bad for making him have to defend himself so staunchly, have to explain himself. It’s not necessary. 

Not after he so openly acknowledged you and Callie tonight. 

“I believe you,” you respond quietly. You move your hands up and down his chest in an effort to settle him. “I know you’re not ashamed. I’m sorry.” Remembering the video from earlier, you pull your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. Locating it takes a matter of seconds. “I figured you’d like this.” You hit play and angle the phone so he can see, a massive smile growing on his handsome face. It’s like you can feel the tension melt away when he lays eyes on Callie. 

Similar to yourself, he seems especially moved by Callie’s “acknowledgment.” You lay your head against his chest, whispering, “she really does love you, ya know.”

Just like her mama.

Video finished, you bite on your bottom lip, an idea crossing your mind. Such weak resolve indeed. “You know, she sleeps heavy…..very heavy.” His eyes narrow, intrigued by where you’re giving. Smirking to yourself, you head toward the bathroom. “I think I’m gonna go take a bath in that nice big tub that could totally fit two people.”

In what seems like inhuman speed, Joe is in front of you, hand coming down on your ass. Hard. “Joe!”

“Get your ass naked. Now.” ________

His head is in the crook of your neck, lips pressing gentle kisses against the wet skin of your shoulder. You chew on your bottom lip, hands on top of his that rest under the water on your stomach. 

“I always miss you too,” he murmurs against you, a nod to the brief conversation from earlier. Eyes closing, you rest your head back against his shoulder. 

This moment is perfect, and you hate to ruin that, to take away from it. But, you also promised yourself that you would be honest with him, especially when it comes to Callie. 

Turning around in the water, you straddle him, legs on either side of his large body. Before he can take your change in position to mean something else, you bring your hands to his face. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

You’re certain he can tell by your tone that whatever it is is serious. “Tell me.”

Fuck. This is harder than you thought it would be. “I wanted to see you, yes, but Callie….Callie needed to come see you.” You can tell he has questions, so you move straight into it, not wanting to delay the inevitable. “She’s been…she’s been different.” He sits up, fully immersed in the conversation. “Not bad, just….she’s been irritable with me at times. Even her teacher said something. You don’t see it, because she’s fine when she talks to you, even after. But when she can’t talk to you….” You shake your head. “I talked to my mom about it, because I was thinking she’s finally feeling whatever I caused when I ran off that night, but….that’s not it.” 

You made the executive decision to not tell him, however, about her drawing or how she cried into your chest because she missed him so much and couldn't understand why he hadn’t come back to see her. This already must be hard for him to hear. There’s no need to throw salt on the wound. 

You know the full truth would crush him.

“So then I talked to her.” You lower your hands to his broad shoulders, massaging them soothingly, voice softening as you finally tell him, “---and she told me she’s been sad because she misses you.”

You see it. The moment his heart drops. He’s crushed, eyes averting downward. His guilt is almost palpable. 

“Please don’t do that.” Voice gentle, you bring your hands back to his face, urging him to meet your loving gaze. “You have done such an amazing job stepping into the father role, and it shows in how much she loves you. You go above and beyond for her. She just can’t grasp what it is you do because she’s too young to do so, but I talked with my principal, and I’ve got the time to take off, so I’m gonna take it. I’ll bring her to you.”

“Y/N….”

“It’s not an issue. Especially since summer will be here before we know it. I’m off then too, so we can make that work. We will make this work, because she’s our daughter, and that’s what parents do.” Your words are partially penetrating, that much is obvious, so you continue. “I really didn’t want to say anything, because I knew you would feel bad, and you absolutely shouldn’t, but I also don’t want to keep anything from you, especially when it’s about Callie. You’re her father. You have a right to know.”

“It’s why you didn’t tell me you were bringing her, because you knew I’d ask,” he puts two and two together. You’re not surprised. Joe’s always been annoyingly perspicacious and insightful. “Thank you…for telling me.”

Kissing his forehead, you remind him, “Calista loves you, Joe. Whether you’re in town or not. You could be doing a show on fucking Mars, and it wouldn’t change a damn thing. She loves you.” You lick your lips, voice unintentionally light and soft. “And so do I.” It’s not a planned admission, not anything scheduled, just an honest, organic confession.

His gaze is on you, no longer as despondent but replaced with something more akin to surprise. 

“I’ve always loved you.” You bring your palm to his cheek, his beard prickling against your skin. “The only reason I told you to leave was because I loved you, because it was too hard to be in love with you and not really be with you. And after all this time, I still love you. I don’t think I ever stopped.” 

It's the truth. In the time he'd been absent from your life, you absolutely could have found someone and moved on. Maybe even settled down, but you couldn't. Because your heart was still with him.

You're pretty certain your heart will always be with him.

“That was my fault,” he acknowledges in a low voice. “I never told you what you meant to me, never took the steps to make you mine. Officially. And I was wrong for that, Y/N. Dead wrong. You always deserved better.”

Gaze softening, you murmur, “I always knew you were married, Joe. You never hid that from me.”

He shakes his head. “But I never—”

“It doesn’t matter—” it’s not entirely true. It does matter to you, you still want and maybe even have some degree of right to know just what the deal was with his marriage, why it took so long for him to divorce his ex-wife. However, at this moment, you don’t care about any of that. This isn’t about that. “I love you, and you love me. That…..that’s what matters.”

He looks like he still has more to say but is being respectful of what you want right now. So he asserts, “you’re with me now.”

“I’m with you now,” you repeat with a soft smile. “I’m with you always.”

Joe sits up, water pushing towards the other side of the tub. “You love me.” It’s more of a statement than a question, like he’s always known as such but was patiently waiting for you to openly admit to such. “I love you too, baby girl.”

Your lips connect for a kiss, passionate, hot, sensual, greedy. His hands are on your back, holding you close, your breast pressed against his chest. 

Your mouth parts when he moves his hand to your breast, thumb circling your nipple as he plants wet kisses down your jawline. “Let me make love to you.” His lips are fire against your wet skin, and you can’t bring yourself to answer with his hands roaming your body under the water, fingers parting your folds.

All you can do is nod eagerly. Joe surprises you when he ensures your legs are locked around him, standing up like you weigh next to nothing. Bodies dripping with water doesn’t make a difference to him as he walks you into the empty bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him, and lays you down on the bed. 

“Baby, we’re all wet,” you point out, not that it changes anything. He’s hot and hard against your thigh, and you feel yourself subconsciously inching down to take him in. “We ca—ahhh.” Your fingers scrape down his chest as he sinks into you. You’ll never get over the feeling of him inside you, the equally painful as it is pleasurable stretch.

“Joe….”

His head is in the crook of your neck. “It’s always been you.” His hands go to your legs, your thighs, spreading them further, deepening his reach. “Always.” 

He pins your hands above your head, by your wrists and you writhe under him. His pace is slow and intentional. This isn’t about either of you getting off, it’s so much more, much more deeper, meaningful. 

“You’ve always been my home.” But, it’s when he says that, so beautiful and vulnerable, that any remaining resolve you had shatters. Tugging on his grip, he loosens his hold and your hands push lightly on his chest. You give enough pressure for him to recognize you’re trying to switch positions. In seconds, he’s on his back with you on top, lips connected with his for a sensual kiss, your hands intertwining again above the pillow as you ride him.

You break the kiss, unable to keep in your moan. He feels so good inside you like this, and you lean back, moving your hips in slow, methodical circles. You know he loves you like this, riding him, breast bouncing as he meets your thrusts. Joe's hand moves up your stomach to your breast giving a deliciously tight squeeze.

“God, I love you,” you whimper, feeling your release building up. It never takes long with Joe. He’s master of your body and all the ways to bring you to a mewling mess.

You’re taken back when he sits up, tugging you closer, his dick hitting a different, even better spot. He kisses you again, more sloppy, just as passionate. And you moan into his mouth as his big hands plant on your hips, controlling your movements.

“Fuck, Joe.”

“Say it again,” he directs, and you’re momentarily confused why he instructs, “tell me you love me, baby.”

“I love you.” It’s probably one of the easiest things you’ve ever done as your fingers lock in his hair, your head back as he licks up the nape of your neck. “I love you so much.”

Your words seem to send him over the edge as well, his mouth latching onto your nipple as he says against your inflamed skin, “let me come in you.”

That feels like a layered request, like he’s asking two questions in one, not that it makes a massive difference.

The answer is the same either way.

This man has your entire heart and soul, and you’ll give him whatever he asks for. Whatever. 

Your finger knots in his scalp as you yank his head back, forcing him to look at you, “only if you come with me.”

His response is to switch positions again, this time laying you on your side as he fucks you from behind. His hand is planted on your belly, fingers spread and splayed as he talks you through it, carrying you into that wonderland of bliss and euphoria. Your hands scrape against the sheets as your orgasm rocks your entire body, and Joe follows shortly after, emptying his entire seed inside of you. 

Bodies wet and spent, his mouth is still on your back as he breathes into your skin, “I love you….”

Chewing on your lip and moving onto your back, your gaze is on him, loving and content. “I love you, too….”

________

You and Joe take separate showers, a mutual agreement as you both know together would just result in another round. Not that either of you are wholly objected, but you also need to be available for your daughter should she wake up for some reason. Not very likely, but just the chance alone is enough to stay on the safe side.

As Callie is conveniently sleeping in the middle of the bed, you and Joe slide in on opposite sides. Interestingly enough, not even a few minutes pass before Callie stirs in her sleep and moves on her side, facing Joe. It’s heartwarming how he gently caresses her forehead, just watching her sleep. 

“I’ve been thinking.” He makes a sound acknowledging your statement, but his eyes are focused on Callie. You know he’s taking in this moment, recognizing that in a matter of hours he’ll have to leave. That he won’t see her again for another almost two weeks. “What if we moved?”

At that, his eyes lift up, so you explain, “My mom is actually the one who brought it up. I didn’t see or understand it then, but I’m starting to get it now. You come to my place, Callie and I can come to see you here, but….we don’t have a place that’s ours.”

If this trip has shown you anything, it’s the importance of togetherness. Callie is most happy when you’re all together. She’s thrilled to be with Joe, but she’s most elated when it’s the three of you. You understand what your mom was trying to say. Callie wants family. She wants the three of you to be a family, and while there’s a lot of things that are untraditional about your dynamic, there are still paths to normalcy.

And one of those paths include having a home that belongs to the three of you, not just you or him, but a space for us.

“You would do that?” It’s hard for you to tell if his voice is so soft because he’s trying to avoid disturbing Callie or he’s deeply moved by your suggestion. Maybe both.

“Of course.” It’s an easy answer, especially when it comes to what’s best for your daughter. “I can teach anywhere. I have my mom and a few cousins, but that’s it. Almost your entire family is in Florida. You saw how easily she connected and bonded with your family. I want her to have that, and she can’t if we stay in my town. I told you before….she wants to be with you, and so do I.” 

You spent so long wanting and dreaming of having that, you’re entirely done with running and overthinking. It’s done nothing but keep you from being with the man you love and want to do life with. It’s time to focus on now and embrace the future.

A future that includes your family. 

“I’ll have my manager find us a realtor.” 

There’s something so exciting and pleasing about this, most likely that it’s the first step of establishing your future with this man. You’re not sure the last time you felt such peace. 

Yawning, you realize that while you feel exhausted, he must be drained. “Goodnight, Joe.” 

Turning on your back, he wishes you a goodnight and anything else after that is lost to the drowsiness that precedes sleep. 

But, it’s a sleep that doesn’t last as long as you’d like.

Having Callie has made you a lighter sleeper in general, so when Joe gets up and out of the bed, needing to get ready to leave, you’re up shortly after him. You don’t get out of the bed, just move so that Callie is right next to you. You know once he’s gone, she’ll be right under you, so might as well get a head start. 

And it happens much sooner than you’d like it to, Joe on the side of the bed, crouched down, as he goes to wake her up. 

It’s something he was entirely against until you told him that in talking to Callie, she made you promise that he'd wake up to tell her bye. She didn’t want him to leave without getting a chance to say goodbye. 

So, he respects that.

“Callie…” You can see he still hates this, hates all of it. You feel it too. It’s not enjoyable having to see these two separated when it’s obvious how close they are. At the end of the day, you get to go home with Callie. He doesn't. “Baby, wake up.”

Helping him out, you give her shoulder a little shake. “Calista, come on, baby, daddy’s gotta go.”

She’s so much like her dad, a heavy sleeper, but finally she stirs, eyes blinking open. And as soon as she sees him, she also knows what time it is. She sits up and rubs at her eyes, moving to hug him. 

“Bye.” Her soft, sleepy voice is both precious and heartbreaking, for a lot of reasons. You try to remind yourself though that she’s bound to be ecstatic when you and Joe break the news to her that you’ll all be moving in together. It’s just a matter of getting through this rough patch.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He kisses her temple and just as you predicted, she tucks herself into your side, readying to go back to sleep. Joe brings his palm to your cheek, “I love you too.”

Smiling warmly, you murmur, “I know....I love you too.” Easiest hello and hardest goodbye has always been such a cliched, overused, corny ass saying to you, but in this moment, you feel it wholeheartedly. “I’ll text you when we get back home.”

He nods, clearly pleased with this. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”

That’s the silver lining. There won’t be as much of a stretch of time that passes between the time you get to see him again. And this pleases you as you give him one last smile before laying back down and dreaming of a future that isn’t as far out as you once believed.

It may be just around the corner. 

________

Meanwhile in the Social Media-Verse…..

TRENDING THREADS

#1: R0m@n Re!gns new gf?

Original Poster: Sooooo. I was on Twitter being nosy, and people who attended the Smackdown show tonight are saying that RR stopped during his entrance to hug and kiss some woman and child sitting ringside. Can’t find any photos or video yet but will come back and add any that I find. Anyone got the tea?

Post #1: I thought he got divorced? I could have sworn I saw an article months about that.

Post #2: I saw the tweets too! Someone asked if it was his ex, but the wwe fanboys are saying the woman was too “fat” to be the ex-wife.

Post #3: That’s so interesting, cause I was watching live tonight (from home because broke bitch status) and the camera randomly cut to the commentators which felt like a strange move given Roman’s entrance is so iconic. I wonder if that’s when it happened.

Post #4: Ain’t nobody got no video or nothing? Didn’t happen. That’s not even aligned with his heel portrayal.

Post #5: @Post#4: He broke character clearly…..

Post #6: Omg yes!!! I was there tonight with my friend, and while we weren’t super close, it definitely happened. That wasn’t his ex-wife. Even from a distance, we could see that. And she’s not fat either, just curvy. Super pretty too. Like stunning. And yes, she’s black. 

Post #7: I just saw someone on Twitter who claims to have been sitting near them say the little girl called him ‘daddy’ 😲

Post #8: I thought he didn’t have any kids??? Harpo who dis woman????? 

Post #9: Damn, it must be serious if he acknowledging her while on the clock and playing daddy to her kid. Our man is taken taken, ya’ll. 😪

Post#10: This is wild. I just googled his name plus the word wife and came across like one picture from years back where she attended some charity event with him. I wonder what their marriage was like cause homegirl never went nowhere with this man.

Post #11: A lot of ya’ll must be new because the tea was spilled years ago in a legendary DR thread that he cheats. Apparently the wife did too. Seemed like an open marriage, Will and Jada type shit, just a lot more private and secretive.

Post #12: @Post11: I am new lol What was the DR? I need to know for…..research purposes.

Post #13: @Post12: Lol. Homegirl said he’s packing, the stroke game is immaculate, and that he’s a eater…..had her damn near speaking in tongues, going up yonder. So whoever this woman is….she’s winning in life. 

Post #14: @Post10 That is so true omg. There’s like nothing there. I know he’s very private but damn sis you can’t make at least an annual appearance????

Post #15: That was his whore (mistress) turned girlfriend and the kid is (allegedly) his. She sucked and fucked her way to that “acknowledgement.”

Post #16: @Post15: Whaaaattttt? You sound like you have tea, sis? Care to spill. 👀

Post #17: @Post16: The truth will come out soon enough.

[malfoys-demigod]

hangouts or dates? alex karev x reader

prompt: hangouts starting to feel like dates until the last hangout when alex confesses tha he likes you

at first, meeting up with alex during midnight on shifts when the both of you had to stay overnight had only happened that one time the two of you were the only ones together at the hospital. mer, cristina, callie, april, jackson, and the rest were off that night, having the privilege of going back to their comfy, warm beds. while you and alex on the other hand, had to stay back and stick with your schedules.

so alex that day asked if you wanted to hang with him at the cafeteria later that night for some midnight snacks. anyways, you both were bound on a slow but important night since you had patients to check up on every so often during the night. and of course, you guys were really close already so it wouldn't have been a problem.

doing that with alex was really fun. he'd show up with lattes and you'd show up with cupcakes then the both of you would catch up with each other, have deep talks as if nobody was around, and laugh so loud until you realize it was time to quickly check up on your patients.

it was really fun to the point where almost every other day when you two had the same night shifts at the hospital, the both of you would seriously dedicate your "midnight snacks" to the point where your friends would tease you for being too busy for date night with alex, suspecting there was more going on.

"hey, y/n, wanna get drinks with us!" lexi invited you to get drinks with her mark, mer, derek, and cristina as they were all bound for home afterwards anyways.

you smiled apologetically, "sorry, i'm doing an overnight shift tonight and i-"

"have a date with karev as usual," mark winked, getting you to roll your eyes.

"it is NOT a date, mark! it's our-"

"daily midnight snack blah blah blah," cristina sarcastically understood, "i honestly don't understand how you guys are not dating yet when it's clearly a date!"

"i know you'll miss me when you're out drinking later, cristina," you waved your friends goodbye as they all exchanged playful looks with each other.

it was 10:00pm now, and you had two hours left till you could hangout with alex.

while you were doing some computer work to get time to pass, there was a thought that got you thinking.

alex.

moments of the many hangouts you've been having with your friend have been flashing on your mind. but they were certain moments about alex.

the way the corners of his mouth go up when you make him smile.

the way his laugh lines appear when you crack a joke with him.

his direct eye contact with you when you talk about something whether deep or silly.

suddenly, after recalling these moments, you started feeling your cheeks heat up a little, as there were pink spots forming around. with that, your eyes widened, realizing you had feelings forming for your friend.

now realizing how your friends saw the two of you together from their perspective made you feel all so silly, putting a small smile on your face. you like alex!

what made you smile even more publicly, was when you received a message on your phone from alex.

"see ya later cupcake," he sent. that was a new nickname that surprised you and made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

"that's new.." you replied, following with, "see you!" there was no way right now you'd reply back with a nickname, not now at least...

--

midnight. the midnight snack hangout was about to commence.

after buying cupcakes from the cafeteria, you turned around and already saw alex with lattes on both hands, with a small smile on his face.

"hey cupcake," he greeted, as he started to sit down with you in the table.

"i hope you were talking to the cupcakes and then you could look so food deprived," you sarcastically noted, trying to conceal the flustered feeling you instantly had at the moment.

"i could be talking to the both of ya" he teased.

--

after an hour or two of talking loud and silly with alex, things started to mellow down.

you were drinking the last of your lattes with alex quietly until you asked a really good question that got to him.

"so which patient are you watching overnight?"

"hm?" he shot you a quick and nervous look all of a sudden. "how about you?"

"mr. evans up in the icu, but i asked you first, alex!" you said with an upbeat but suspicious tone.

"uh, some lady's newborn up in the nicu."

"does that lady or a newborn have a name you should know about, dr. karev?"

"yeah, uh-"

"you're lying, don't even both think of a ridiculous name!" you laughed, lightly punching him in the shoulder. "what's up with you, alex, do you even have a patient to watch tonight?"

he looked around quickly for a brief moment, then finally sighed and looked directly at you. "no," he said fidgeting, "look, i just wanted to do overtime again and hangout with you, alright?"

you raised your eyebrows the minute he mentioned, 'again'.

"i'm sorry, 'again' you said?"

alex then looked down at the floor out of guilt, "yeah, i just really liked spending more time with you, and i guess apart of me's been too chicken to ask you out on a real date outside this place, cause i really like you, y/n."

if only alex could see your soft and warm expression upon hearing the sweetest thing you could ever hear from him. you turned to get a cupcake from the table and turned back, lowering it for him to see.

he took the cupcake, looking back at you now as he saw a glimmering look on your face.

"i like you alex, actually a little more than the cupcakes i always buy us."

now, there was the smile that you were looking forward to seeing from alex. it was a small and slightly red embarrassed smile, from your friend.

he slowly unwrapped the wrappings of the cupcake, eyes still on you. "do you wanna continue this into a little date, cupcake?" his new nickname for you.

"i hope you're referring to me this time, karev," you tease, getting a bite from alex's cupcake as he lets out a light laugh, adoring you and this moment.

i suppose cupcake dates and more are to be expected from now on...

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2024-08-24

(Previous post - current page 666)

Section 3 of page 666 is now upd8'd, let's check it out! And as you can expect very much from the topic it's almost certainly covering, they've warned us via the twitter "Content warning for references to themes of physical and mental abuse, flashing imagery, and mild gore". By the way, when Force Refresh didn't reload the game data enough to show the new chapter in Google Chrome for me, I had to go in settings to "Delete Browsing Data" > "Cookies and other site data" for the Time Range "Last hour", because just deleting "Cached images and files" or "Hosted app data" didn't help.

(EDIT: THEY WERE NOT KIDDING AROUND ABOUT THE CONTENT WARNINGS, IF YOU HAVE ANY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE WITH ANY SORT OF ABUSE PLEASE BE CAREFUL WITH THIS ONE.)

Although, before we get into it (AND WAY BEFORE I SCROLLED BACK UP TO EDIT THAT EXTRA WARNING UP THERE), I wanted to cover something that'd been on my mind since my last post, predictionways: How IS Vriska going to escape the Plot Point?

There seem a number of obvious answers that we'll get some combination of, but the last one might not be obvious to everyone, so I wanted to cover it and flesh out / examine the possibilities so we all can feel really smart if it pans out at all the way I'm thinking it could pan out:

(1) Vriska realizes the true power and relevance she'd attained as a Thief of Light never left her heart all along, and this singularity is Nothing, a realm Void of relevance where only she exists. (Very like the Neverending Story after everything was destroyed, maybe?) If she allows herself to divest herself of some of her relevance she's been so desperately clutching onto, she can 8r8k the Plot Point.

Callie hinted that this singularity-center might need to be destroyed, and the fifth section is an 8-ball, a type of container Vriska is famously known to break. It may make a degree of sense that realizing her own power, her ultimate freedom, might be enough to do just that and free her.

(1a) Vriska becomes her Ultimate Self, and is too full of Light for the singularity to contain. This could break it or otherwise get her out of it...

...but I'm not sure it's either possible or a good thing for her to consolidate ALL of herself from the rest of Paradox Space into herself while she's trapped in here? Those versions of her perhaps deserve to keep existing rather than falling into a sea of herself that would need to hold powerfully to the self-actualization and psychological progress she's made as THIS version of her instead of the versions of her that didn't. We're not certain of all the mechanics of being an Ultimate Self, so it's hard to say whether or not it's possible... or could even see her backslide from this Therapy Session, which I really wouldn't want to see because this has been so good, and would definitely make some sense of alt!Callie / AL's warning that what was inside the Plot Point was hungry, because an Ultimate Vriska certainly could be. This doesn't seem the right choice unless in combination with one of the other options:

(2) Vriska finds the collapsed core of the Green Sun's power here and steals it for herself, a hidden treasure that could be intensely empowering, whether via Light or even giving her fancy barrier-busting Black Hole powers similar to alt!Calliope's dead!Jade body. I... feel this option is unlikely. It'd certainly count as something "greedy" inside the Plot Point that "isn't salvation" and could hasten the fragmentation of the Candy storyline because there isn't a singularity vacuuming its power all together, which could apply to breaking the Plot Point too, frankly... eh, I just still think other options seem more likely and better foreshadowed. Especially this last one:

(3) Vriska uses the same communication-across-barriers ability she used to contact (Meat)!Terezi in order to message JOHN and ask the HEIR OF BREATH to free her from the singularity as I once long ago wrongly predicted. If John is the only one who can reach in and pull her out, it would require Vriska to overcome herself enough to realize she needs -- and has the power -- to MAKE a divestment of relevance (as (1) suggested) to John from herself, and let John be the hero in her place for at least a moment. The arms he once reached everywhere with using his ultimate power suddenly become an arm reaching for another hand to pull someone to freedom.

Now on top of everything I mentioned in the old Breath, Blood, and the Flow of Reality post about John being one of the only people possibly capable of freeing someone from a singularity that "not even Light can escape", there's a bunch of EXTREMELY RECENT evidence for this, too. In addition to telling us how surprising and unlikely they would have found it to learn that Vriska messaged Terezi past the barrier sealing Candy's timeline away from the rest of Paradox Space, Callie ALSO just got done asking John to break Vriska out of jail, reinforcing it with an open statement that Breath was the aspect of Freedom, and John embodied the concept. And more importantly, John HADN'T BEEN NECESSARY to break Vriska out at all, and ended up only tagging along for conversation and fun, not even needing to tell Serket where to go! Which makes the entire relevance and narrative choice of Callie asking him to break her out better suited as foreshadowing for this exact necessity while she's trapped in the Plot Point, and all Vriska would need to do to make it happen is pull a trick (communicating across the Breach) we've already seen her pull before in the Epilogues. To have the courage and stability of mind to realize she can't do this on her own, and know who to ask for help. (Roxy, as a Rogue of Void, might even be able to lend her power to the effort too.)

Apologies for the pre-update writeup, I just really wanted to make that last John call for y'all if you hadn't realized the possibility, y'know, before we potentially see it happen a few upd8s from now. :D

Alright, on to all the trauma that Doc Scratch helped inflict on Vriska, manipulating her into actions that only injured her psyche further and her friends moreso, and all the guilt and anger she feels over it. I suspect she'll have to finally at least PARTIALLY realize the trick that's being hinted at regarding "ultimate freedom" -- ie, the answer to the Ultimate Riddle -- and just how much Doc Scratch's talk of inevitability not only gaslit her into thinking her worst instincts were unavoidable, but that even as he was TELLING her that he was manipulating her, he was admitting that he HAD to manipulate her to make this happen, meaning the power had been in HER hands all along, not his. Without Vriska provoked into being the one to inflict the injuries in the entire Team Charge vs Team Scourge cascade, without the fact that this was all FRIENDS hurting FRIENDS, none of them would have experienced enough of the severe psychological trauma required for Doc Scratch's half-Gamzee chucklevoodoos to control them into unknowingly writing his DNA code, and leaving those like Aradia in an inverted, highly manipulatable state for guiding their session into creating the Tumor that would birth the Green Sun. Let's click the White Cueball and start watching Vriska painfully confronting some serious emotional abuse and trauma from her past at the hands of a very-Dirk-Strider-like pseudo-parental figure...

*CLICKING THAT DAMNED CUEBALL NOW*

Okay, NO TIMESKIP notice this time, she looks the same in her room-- it would make sense that Doc Scratch is next on the chopping block this time and I'd WANT to see her live first reaction to it. What's with this poppy hoppy fun music? We're definitely getting something more sinister for Scratch. (Also I have to say, the music so far this entire Vriska Therapy Session flash has been... okay? But not up to the usual Homestuck banger standards the original comic's run spoiled us with constantly, in my personal view.)

VRISKA: Whew. VRISKA: Long day.

Oh gosh I hope she doesn't go into the next one IMMEDIATELY and rests first--

Oh GCATAVROSPRITE is the music this time, I get it! And he's acting more catlike than ever w/ those paws lifted!

GCATAVROSPRITE: mAYBE, yOU SHOULD TAKE A BREAK, fROM ALL THE TOTALLY AWESOME PERSONAL BREAKTHROUGHS YOU ARE HAVING, GCATAVROSPRITE: aND KICK IT WITH ME AND ERISOL FOR A WHILE, ERISOLSPRITE: yeah, you kiinda look liike 2hiit.

THANK you, get her to relax at least a BIT before tackling something harder than her freakin' abusive mother(s). Also,

--just, Erisol looking unexpectedly fly as fuck, and more Dave-like than ever. Like, I'm just surprised he looks so cool. Good damn art.

VRISKA: Says Scarfshades McLopsided.

Hey!!!

ERISOLSPRITE: 2ay2 the bu2ted a22 biitch wwearin the 2ame raggedy jacket 2he2 wworn 2ince wwe wwere liike fiivve.

FUCKIN' OWNED, GOOD SNAPBACK.

VRISKA: Says the guy who literally can't change his clothes.

That's low AND not helping your case, fuck you! You're being incredibly disrespectful AND proving him right!

ERISOLSPRITE: ii cant be held accountable for my dii2cordant cla22-2wwag diichotomy, but here you are a 2weep and a half deep iin a per2onally raiilored realm of 2elf-reflectiion and you 2tiill choo2e twwo look liike thii2.

EXACTLY, that's what we're saying!!! --Not that it can be helped TOO much, from an emotional standpoint she sorta has to take forms similar to her past to face her past to an extent, so...

Also, let me do the math on that... (6/13)*4 ≈ 1.85, so if we're still in "YEAR 4" then 1.85 solar sweeps have passed for her since she entered the Plot Point. If anything, Erisol's being generous as fuck here by rounding down instead of saying "nearly two sweeps". (And this confirms we haven't timeskipped again-- or if we have, must not have skipped MUCH.)

VRISKA: Heh.

What, can't mess with perfection?

ERISOLSPRITE: heh.

Oh shit, they're actually getting on, look at his damned animated grin. This is just some black-vibey friendly jabbing!

ERISOLSPRITE: anyway, come chiill.

Please, please do Vriska for your own damn sake.

Oh no, Tavros, don't suggest cat things.

Yeah, get some R and R. (And pointless playtime.) So you don't burn out. Good advice Tav.

FUCK IS HE STILL ALLERGIC? :C

.....okay GCATavrosprite you make a good goddamned point, you're doing pretty well against the allergies all things considered.

Oh no, she thinks she needs to keep going. :( This is gonna be even less fun for her than she thinks.

VRISKA: I'm kind of on a roll here. Gotta strike while the iron is hot!

Intense trauma-release therapy does not work that way!!! Heavy revelations have to be PROCESSED and mulled over before you subject yourself to more psychological pounding!

GCATAVROSPRITE: [...] aND IT KIND OF FEELS LIKE THE FIRE IS ABOUT TO GET REALLY REALLY HOT,

Ooh, a serious warning from Tav and Erisol that this shit is about to be some fuckin' BUSINESS. Listen to them! (Exactly as you put it Tav, that iron is gonna MELT too long in too hot a fire. I hope this doesn't knock her back at first and then we get ANOTHER TIMESKIP so soon mid-section... D: )

VRISKA: Whaaaaaaaat?

Oh she doesn't fucking see it coming, does she. She thought she just conquered the worst of her abuse with her mother(s) just now. She is NOT ready.

VRISKA: Oh 8lah 8lah 8lah, don't be such a pussy. GCATAVROSPRITE: i LITERALLY CAN'T NOT BE A CAT,

PFFF

VRISKA: How 8ad could it even 8e?

How genre savvy could you POSSIBLY have lost track of being to make such a statement?

...Welp, she's gonna try it. Let's hope it doesn't make her backslide into being too afraid to touch it for another year or two. :C :C :C

ERISOLSPRITE: ok wwell fuck u2 for tryiin ii gue22, havve fun gettiing traumatiized.

PFFFFDHF okay that was pretty funny

VRISKA: I'm not gonna get traumatized!

Lemme guess, smash cut to a dozen and change clicks from now: "...I got fucking traumatized."? X'D

Oh here we go:

{ENTER SCRATCH'S PARLOR}

OH HERE WE GO WITH SOME PROPERLY OMINOUS MUSIC. AND I LOVE THE TYPEWRITER SOUNDS AS HIS TEXT TYPES OUT AGAINST THE PURE BACKGROUND. THIS IS DONE SO GODDAMN WELL

(Even if I still think this music still doesn't measure up to original Homestuck tunes, it's still FITTING AND WORKS GREAT for the scene, and the style and art choices are top notch, especially the pure backgroundless white font.)

Yep Vriska, a "perfectly predictable inevitability", you should have seen this coming. Did you know you'd show up here, or did you not and he's rubbing it in your face? Cause I'd bet it's the latter.

It certainly has been a while, Vriska. You seem to have blossomed nicely.

CREEPY ABUSIVE UNCLE VIBES ALREADY REACHING CRITICAL LEVELS THREE CLICKS IN

Care for a piece of candy?

GOD DAMNIT

VRISKA: Oh fuck your stupid candy, you glo8e-headed little freak.

Congratulations Vriska, you've successfully lost 99% of your chill five seconds in, have fun getting traumatized

Doc hinting at the inevitability theme by saying he'd know for a fact she'd enjoy the candy.

Although it was less the wary hunch of a scared little girl than the delightful certainty that you'd come crawling back to me, sooner or later.

FUCK THIS IS JUST RAW ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP WE ARE FULL NON-WATERED-DOWN EVERCLEAR HERE

Holy SHIT are they pulling out all the stops with his awful phrasing here, no wonder they put so big an emotional abuse trigger warning on this update on the twitter page. And it's only going to get worse.

Of course I know. I'm always watching you.

Fuck, this is just. Exposing levels of vulnerability and awful fear that Vriska had to contend with in her youth that we hadn't even PUT TOGETHER back then. Every veil of silliness has been ripped straight off to show the gory mess of how this would have psychologically affected her while she was younger, here. I used to hate the epilogues and early HS^2 a little for doing this so liberally, for making clear how RETROACTIVELY FUCKED things were in ways that made my heart ache without any balm or healing... but unlike those earlier glimpses into their past attitudes, THIS time we are fucking going to goddamn RESOLVE the psychological issues and get some clear closure on them. That's part of why the entire p666 Vriska Therapy Session / Hyperbolic Therapy Chamber is already quite nearly my favorite part of all Homestuck so far, and I DO mean ALL of Homestuck so far.

VRISKA: You know what? VRISKA: I've 8een pretty damn good. VRISKA: 8een losing track of the sweeps I've spent in here fixing pretty much everything other than the thing I actually came in here to fix, 8ut it's paying off! There's a convenient timer for the express purpose of tracking that.

Oh god don't show her. Don't make her worry about how much time she's losing in here or how much it might be reflecting out there.

VRISKA: Yeah, and I never look at it 8ecause it pisses me off!

Phew. At least she's had TIME to come to terms with worrying about it.

VRISKA: 8ut it's fine. VRISKA: It just means I've had a lot of time to think stuff over. VRISKA: Stuff that was holding me 8ack, throwing me off-course.

I get the feeling he's about to do a pretty good job trying to convince you that you can't escape this so easily. To throw the wrong sort of doubt at you about what exactly you're barreling towards. About who the real "YOU" is-- he's going to try and convince you you're the one who hurts people.

I like to think that I'm far and away the most prolific contributor to your baggage.

Fuck. This won't be good.

VRISKA: Man, I figured may8e this place was working up to something really intense, 8ut instead all I get is Glo8ehead the Gru8toucher playing puppetmaster again.

Eueuuugh that nickname D:

...Is Vriska shaking or laughing? I think she's shaking. D:

VRISKA: You fucked with a 8unch of little kids and 8lew up, then you LOST.

Lord English might have lost, but I don't feel quite like Doc Scratch really did. He pretty much gave his master the Paradox-Space-spanning story he wanted, from beginning to end.

VRISKA: You could 8arely handle me when I was six, I'm supposed to 8e scared of you NOW?

It doesn't matter that you're not six sweeps anymore, that's-- you're visibly shaking. This is a big fucking deal. This is digging into the creepiest and most disgusting parts of what was done to you.

Well, you're shaking.

There we have it.

...Vriska is pulling out the whole-ass PDF File word. I... I hope she's just trying to taunt him for manipulating children, here, and playing the uncle angle. He's not-- I mean nothing actually happened, right? Please tell me nothing physical actually fucking happened besides the cueball-explosion physical-abuse-ways, I don't want sexual abuse retconned into existence here...

Exquisite. I missed that fumbling braggadocio. It's heartening to know that this place hasn't cured you of it yet. It makes you so much fun to play with.

Yeah... the parts of Doc Scratch that Vriska is going to remember most clearly are the times where he was condescending in ways that denigrated her and confirmed her worst fears about herself, intentionally. :C

WHOA DID HE JUST SPACE SHRINK HER??? IS HE GONNA PUT HER ON THE TOY BATTLEFIELD?!

{o} ==>

Matching the scale and visuals of the situation to how she always felt. :C :C

And SICK that the music is breaking down, I'll freely give it credit for shifting to action mode.

Now then, why don't we have ourselves a little game?

Just like Dirk and Caliborn, and their union in Doc Scratch, always love to do to people.

FUCK he glitched away the "WHAT WILL YOU DO?" prompt. This is DEFINITELY about the Ultimate Riddle and Doc Scratch's ultimate lie that Vriska never had any autonomy, a lie he poisoned her with from an early age to make her even easier to manipulate both then and down the line.

DAMMIT, changing her clothes by force?! D: D: D: D:

FUCK FUCK FUCK NO THAT'S EVEN WORSE HE CHANGED HER INTO KID FORM HUGGING HERSELF FROM WHEN SHE WAS ABOUT TO BE INJURED THAT'S CREEPIER AND MORE AWFUL THAN I EVER EXPECTED NO WONDER THEY CONTENT WARNING'D THE FUCK OUT OF THIS, I'm going up there and putting some EXTRAS on there.

I don't have personal experience with this sort of abuse but I do have experience with some who HAVE and some who WORK therapeutically with those who have so this is playing out like a critical hit to triggers I can only empathize from a distance with and it's STILL getting almost too much already. Wow wow wow wow wow they didn't pull any punches.

Ah, and there she is. My favorite piece.

AAAAAA

Thief to E4; Thief takes Page.

That loud BLAM just then and the brown blood knocking her back along with her injuries, so pithy yet so HEAVY and with the meaty SFX to go with it, just, brutal, auughh.... Vriska's NOT getting out of this one lightly. She's not going to want to come back here. She's going to be too traumatized for a good while isn't she.

Thief to F5; Thief takes Maid.

Oh god I don't want to screenshot each of these...

Another meaty THUNK and some rust blood splashing her. God.

Thief to Z8; Thief takes Seer.

Even after all Terezi taunted her and so clearly loved being blind, she STILL hates herself for what she did to Terezi?? :'C

Her blood too D:

Z8 ISN'T EVEN A F8CKING P8SITION, YOU HACK!!!!!!!

She didn't even get the number of exclamation points right...

All the world's my board.

No Escape.

Thief to ∫40; Thief takes pawn.

Wait what, who?

Is that Gamzee's blood or Eridan's? She only killed Gamzee just recently in Candy... (Checks with digital color meter--) That's #680768 blood, which is closest to... Eridan's, huh, weird. Maybe Erisol will be able to help her with this later after she's run away. IF AND WHEN she can finally run away. It looks like he wants to reinforce the impression that he can make her kill ANY AND ALL of the people friends she knows, COULD have made her do it. That's horrible for her to think of herself.

Now Equius's blood. She's swearing but can't make it stop.

He even calls Kanaya (and her blood splash) nothing but her killing a pawn of his choosing.

Thief to Ω413; Thief takes pawn. Check.

This is one of the first reappearances I can remember of the arc number 413 since we started HS^2, I don't even recall it in the epilogues. What's in Check here, the kids' whole universe, the one the trolls created? Is he getting her to blame herself for that, too?

KARKAT'S BLOOD AUGH that's always tough to see whenever I have to see it, it just makes you want to protect him when you know you can't.

Vriska calling him a cheap fucking karma ghost, this a stupid fucking charade... won't stop the fact that this is real emotional pain she's feeling and real pain that was already inside her for nearly her whole life up until this vision brought it out into the open.

VRISKA: AND I'M NEVER GOING TO 8E CAUGHT UP IN YOUR FUCKING G8MES EVER AGAIN!!!!!!!!

Then why are you so afraid you will be?

Of course you will. You think you're better than me? Better than fate? Vriska, I am going to put you in situations where you have the potential to do terrible things. I am going to make things ugly. I am going to corner you. I am going to pressure you. And no matter how much "better" you claim to be, all I have to do is catch you at the wrong moment. You're one bad turn from burning all your quaint little progress to the ground. One lapse away from being mine again.

Yeah, these are ALL just more and more of her deepest fears about herself. That she can be made to kill again, so easily, no matter how far she thinks she's moved past it all. Until she internalizes the answer to the Ultimate Riddle and realizes she has the power to make the better choice-- to ALWAYS make the better choice, and he was just fooling her into thinking she never did-- how could she possibly escape this sort of trap? She can't, not yet. And that abusive cueball asshole INTENTIONALLY made sure she felt that way, because that's what kept her easy to control. Learned helplesness.

VRISKA: Get me out of here.

Fuck, she's so defeated... so helpless. Please, PLEASE let this work. Please make it so she CAN escape this memory RIGHT THE FUCK NOW and confront it later. Because I'm very afraid it won't.

VRISKA: I want a do-over. Oh, please. You of all people should know that you don't *get* do-overs. The rest of these frivolous little vision quests may feel like sparing you the effort of getting things right the first time around, but the real world doesn't work that way.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK THAT'S EVEN WORSE THAN I EXPECTED

No, you'll just have to endure it. This won't take long.

LET HER OUT YOU FUCK

You had a good run out there, flying solo and swashbuckling around as if Light itself were yours to command. It'd be wise to remember that it's a borrowed blessing. You flourish at its whim. Continue to spit in its face and take it for granted, and it will abandon you once again, perhaps for good.

Back to the ultimate riddle shit again. Doc Scratch conning her into thinking "everything you've achieved, I made for you, or you stole from others".

Being a true Thief of Light doesn't mean being at the whim of Light, at the mercy of what she can borrow. Kanaya tried to teach her back when she wanted her to clean her room that anybody can make their own luck.

Instead Doc Scratch is playing the role of Demiurge, standing in place of the Sun and claiming all Light radiates from him, when there was plenty inside her all along.

Do you remember who you were, before it chose you? The choices you made when luck wasn't on your side? You were such a delectable little victim.

Bluh!!!!!!

Poor Vriska, with her voracious lusus. With her demanding legacy and her uncooperative, fickle little friends. So much was out of your hands, then; how could you help but mbe my lovely assistant?

Doc Scratch inherited every last ounce of Equius's nonconsensual creep factor from Arquiusprite.

And this is going into the relationship between Light and Agency again, Void and the Lack of agency-- when Vriska felt trapped, felt she didn't have a choice, that was Void hemming her in, her "bad luck streak". Agency is your ability to choose what you do next, and so is Light. That's the privilege sometimes but not exclusively known as Luck.

Vriska: You didn't fucking own me.

Still so helpless-looking, but at least a bit of defiance in her expression. Which I expect handily crushed, unfortunately...

Exactly.

Fuck! And yeah, that's his point-- he's trying to say she CHOSE to do the wrong thing when the chips were down, which is what she's most afraid she'll do again.

But she needs to internalize the fact that it was a choice... that it HAD to be a choice... is an important flaw in the way he gaslit and conned her.

But what matters is that I might as well have. You let yourself believe you had no option other than to take me up on my hard bargains, again and again. For all your talk of independence, all your combative posturing and insistence on your own freedom, you barely bothered to put up any actual resistance to my suggestions. You took the easy way out, swearing all teh while it was your move. What a phenomenal waste of your considerable talents.

Her psyche is playing against her with the cards face up here... she just has to read them correctly. This is what she's afraid of, but it's also the flaw in his logic, the source of his power over her. The idea that she never possessed Ultimate Freedom, even though he's practically telling her that she DID, just to convince her she's an awful person.

It was an insult, and a warning. You're a trump card, Vriska, but your potency is a double-edged sword. One you've gotten far too comfortable swinging around, in the past. What do you intend to fix, when you leave this place? What, I wonder, will you break? I'd encourage you to be mindful of both. Of course, you could always cast aside those pesky trivialities and go with the flow, smashing through circumstances with nary a thought for the consequences. It'd be easier. We could dance together again, just like old times. You choose.

This isn't the real Doc Scratch-- this version of him IS, in its sick perverse way, still helping her. Still giving her the hints to realize that true balance between embracing your role and yielding agency to others is CRUCIAL to make sure you're doing your best to do the right thing. Which is especially difficult when your role, your best methodology, is that of an Agency Thief. A dangerous role which must be careful with its moves so as not to gluttonously trample over the wills of others who deserve a say.

But in order to choose, to take up the mantle of Ultimate Freedom, Vriska has to TRUST herself enough TO choose.

Trusting yourself enough to entrust yourself with CHOICE is one of the hardest decisions you can possibly make. Few ever truly make that decision.

What'll it be, Vriska? Player, or piece?

Well?

Thief to ∞108.

Whoa, what now? What the fuck is this going to be?

I look forward to finding out. Good luck.

Oh, so it's sending her back to the Plot Point. ∞108, or 8108. Is this the elusive arc number of one of our timelines, of Candy? One of infinite... or 1 and 0, creation and destruction, sandwiched between two 8s, two Vriskas with perpendicular orientations, Vriska and Vrissy? Hmm...

Oh thank fucking god we're back...

HAH

thanks so much I needed that mood lifter XD

{Level Complete!}

Thanks for ENDING it too, holy shit. I don't think I could have taken much longer of something THAT heavy tonight. Wow, that was masterfully done... not dragged out, just enough to get to the true point. To a setup for her decision, for her personal answer to the Ultimate Riddle.

Which makes plenty of sense why the NEXT section seems like it's likely a weird colorless version of one of Davepetasprite^2's feathers. They're the perfect person to talk to about her Soul/Heart, the greater self and the meaning of Ultimate Freedom, just as they hinted at during their last big talk in Homestuck.

--Yeah, she didn't get as much help from that as she would have wanted... and now the candle is ABSOLUTELY burning down.

The glimpse of the next unclaimed tiers, here... are these hinting at the start of the next section? We have her inhibitions bound, then a reference to a child development psychologist, then a somatic spark-- physical contact?! Then Deja Vu, a flash of the past (or possibly even meeting her GHOST self from the ghost rain, the more vulnerable (Vriska) inverted to Page of Void mode that she BERATED TO TEARS back toward the end of Homestuck to prove how much more (Vriska) had grown than Vriska before leaving her crying and for Ghost Terezi from the pre-retcon timeline to meet)... Heuristic Grace, getting her luck back possibly... burning, getting hotter, and then a transcendental gleam? No, no that's got to just be a candle and it burning out the rest of the singularity... I still don't think Ultimate Vriska is the solution to all this, could it be?

Oh shit, I forgot about how the BLACK CANDLE is burning down due to VRISKA'S blue flame.

Recall my proposals at the beginning of this post? I completely forgot about yet one more opportunity for her escape:

(4) That Vriska's Light has been burning away at the singularity of the Plot Point this entire time, and will naturally destroy it no matter what, especially if she embraces her Agency and her inner Light. The Green Sun was not just a symbol of Light but an ultimate manifestation of Space power... and collapsed into a singularity, it could indeed also have been not just a Void but an ultimate manifestation of Time power. The years, sweeps, that Vriska is spending inside of it could be wearing it away all on its own, rapidly exhausting a reservoir of Time that alt!Calliope preserved at the center of the singularity just to give the noncanon timeline more time to exist than it otherwise would have had?!! Instead, Vriska is burning it up, and the sprites and ghosts who fell into the Black Hole during the Ghost Rain and concentrated themselves in this singularity are helping her use that naturally limited Time to arm herself and become the best version of herself she can be, so when the Plot Point collapses and shit really starts hitting the fan for the Candy timeline, they can execute a NEW plan to breach into the Canon/Meat timeline and do something so incredibly important that it reseats the timelines outside Paradox Space in new relevance stolen out from Canon. Something incredibly important, like unexpectedly facilitating Sburb's creation in what Dirk and Rosebot are trying to do, or sendificating the kids the final frog they used to create this Universe, or something, which came from somewhere we've still never resolved...

So many interesting possibilities here. And only two or three more updates until we'll know for sure what and how!

I'll probably continue to be too busy the next week or two to be in the mood to chew through bonus material or commentary. Talk to you next upd8 instead, most likely! :D

[moonshynecybin]

Hi Callie, hope you're feeling better today, was trying to think of a soft FCO thought yesterday but I fell asleep so back to it today it is.

It doesn't fit with the main timeline I drew forever ago but it goes with something you talked about once so.

Valencia, Marc and Valentino, things finally reaching a good tentative point between them, being told on Thursday that they've done a good job throughout the year and they don't have to see each other during the break and they'll be fine to post about them breaking things off sometimes soon.

Now, scene sometimes during the weekend, can be on Monday for testing as well (very much a detail, anyway).

Can't decide where it happens exactly (paddock, pit lane, etc) but Valentino intercepting Marc while he was walking somewhere (garage, motorhome, etc), grabbing Marc's hand and pulling him close.

Marc's first reflex is to look around to find the cameras, his eyes anywhere but on Valentino until Valentino squeezes his hand, calling for his attention, using his name as well.

"Hm?" Marc turns his head back to Valentino, almost bumping their heads together.

That's where he realizes they're close, Valentino's nose now pressing against his temple, his other hand on Marc's waist.

"Easy," Valentino says, his breath brushing against Marc's cheek, left thumb applying pressure to his stomach, rubbing over the material of Marc's jacket twice.

"I'm not sure it's smart to be all close and cozy right now if we're supposed to break up in a couple of weeks."

Getting the words out is a more painful process than Marc would ever want to admit, his attempt at regaining control of the situation thrusted on him a couple of days ago pretty bad for now.

Valentino tenses up next to him, his recovery quick but not enough for Marc not to notice.

There is a kiss pressed to his temple, soft. And then, Valentino pulling away, squeezing his hand one last time.

"Careful today, I'll see you tonight."

[Debated for way too long whether or not Valentino would also say something along the lines of "Don't be stupid" or "Don't think too much, you're going to hurt yourself" but maybe went the vulnerable wayTM in that one.]

HELPPPP i DO love the idea of this being post vale essentially saying he’ll nuke the relationship by being seen at a club with someone else but it hasn’t happened yet… they both know that they have an expiration date after the race weekend and they’re dreading it but they have this soft little language built between them where they still reach for each other… marc can’t believe he let this happen to him AGAIN so he’s shut down—lashing out but it’s just stating fact— and vale would think the same thing he did in sepang, that marc is looking at him absent minded, like he doesn’t care— but he’s spent enough time with him now to see through it, a bit. not enough to call off the breakup (he wants to be sure marc wants him for HIM and he can not, will not, allow himself to be vulnerable enough to have that convo. yet. we need to torture him some more. maybe they DO break up the fake relationship and marc goes on a date with another guy…..) but enough to still put a hand on his shoulder, his waist… enough to press a soft kiss on his forehead and feel the way marc flinches like he’s been punched…

[sunnyie-eve]

27 | The Flow

Series: Never Leave You | OBX

Paring:(JJ Maybank x OFC! Rafe Cameron x OFC!)

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: JJ being an ass, Soft Rafe

MASTERLIST

Like Callie said she met up with the others after being home for a bit and they catch her up on how screwed they really are. "How the hell are we gonna get that type of money?" Callie messes with her nails as she leans against the railing.

"Why are you here anyways?" JJ speaks up messing with a knife sitting alone.

"Excuse me?" She looks at him, "I'm part of this group still. Sorry I went off for a while to get a break from everything."

"She's still part of the group, dude." John B tells him.

"Who's friends with Rafe still after everything. What was it only 18 months ago you two were hooking up. Staying on figure 8 with him just to get over me."JJ chuckles so Callie walks over slapping him across the face.

"I had nowhere else to go! Remember that? So fuck you. And you're really pushing it to where I don't even want to be friends with you anymore." She leaves the group going home.

"At least see if you can get money out of the psychopath!" He shouts as she gets in her car. Everyone looks over at JJ wondering why the hell he was acting that way, "What? I'm right. It's fucking Rafe." He looks at everyone.

"Don't you think you're pushing it?" Kiara sighs so JJ laughs more.

"Don't say anything you might regret." Pope points his finger at JJ so JJ gets up to go on a walk alone while everyone sighs.

Sarah shakes her head watching JJ in the distance, "Trust me, I get what he means when it comes to my brother but he's out of line with Callie. What the hell happened to him?" She looks at everyone.

John B and Pope can't help but glance over to Kiara, "Seriously?" She glares at them.

"Well, if I remember correctly. You did develop feelings for JJ when they were together and y'all almost kissed and didn't tell her about it. So I was the good friend who told her. And now you and JJ are a couple because Callie didn't get back with him." Pope can't help but tell the truth.

"We aren't together just because she didn't take him back." Kiara crosses her arms and the others avoid eye contact with her, "That's what you guys believe?! I'm not being used for him to get over her."

"Kie, we didn't say that last part. You did." John B gives her a look, "It obvious JJ has feeling for you too. That's why everything happened in the first place."

As everyone slowly splits apart do their own thing for the day, Callie was arriving home and sees Sofia waiting on her porch. "Hey, hey!" She stands up once Callie gets out of her car. "Rafe, may have told me your address. I thought we could hangout? I don't really have people to hang out with besides from Rafe. I don't really care for the other Kooks."

"I'm with you on that last half." Callie laughs, "We can hangout here. I don't mind. My room is still a slight mess though because I was redoing it." Callie lets her know.

"I don't mind. I'll even help you out with your room." Sofia smiles, "Nice house by the way. The best on the Cut." She follows Callie inside.

"My dad is a Kook and he built this. Have no idea where he is now. Rafe might know. It's just me and my aunt Tess that live here. Aunt Tess!" Callie shouts to find her.

"Cleaning the bathroom!"

"There's someone I want you to meet!" They shout back and forth till Tess joins them. "This is Sofia. She works at the country club and is also friends with Rafe."

"Rafe is friends with another Pogue?" Tess was shocked. She didn't count Barry as one because the two weren't exactly friend friends. "Callie, you really did rewire some of his brain."

"Yep. But we'll be in my room." Callie leads the way.

"Nice meeting you Sofia!"

The two girls got to really know each other while finishing up the room and they were surprised at how well Rafe said they would get along. Just a few hours seemed like years of friendship.

At the same time as things look bleak for the group, they soon received attention for their El Dorado discovery and were hailed as heroes.

"An expedition of one man, John Routledge, and a group of teenagers, who are with us today. Locals, who grew up here and who succeeded where centuries of conquistadors, explorers, and admirals failed. Today, we come together to celebrate these teens, friends from both sides of the island who came together to solve this five-year-old mystery. Let's hear it for them!"

The crowd applauds and cheers for the group as they sit there then stand up give the crowd a smile.

"Okay, I need a reset. I need a reset right now. This is a lot. It's time to celebrate." JJ says as the group go stand together away from everyone.

"I'll take one hit. One." Pope tells him, "One."

"Bad man now." Cleo looks at him.

"Big John would've thought this was all bullshit." Sarah laughs.

"Excuse me. I... I don't mean to interrupt." A man walks over to them.

"Uh, can we help you?"

"Yes. I wanted to tell you all it's remarkable what you all did. Royal Merchant, El Dorado, Denmark Tanny. Impressive résumé, impressive. I was wondering if you would all be so kind as to look at an item of mine." The man passes over a book and Pope takes it.

"Oh yeah? What type of item is that?"

It's a manuscript. I would investigate it myself, but I'm too long in the tooth. I need partners, and you all were first on my list.

"This is a captain's log." John B looks at the man.

"Who is the captain?" JJ asks.

"Edward Teach. Blackbeard." And that all lead the group to an invitation to Wes Genrette's old estate to discuss Blackbeard.

On the way to goat island, they talk about the past and all the rumors about the people from there. "Okay, why are we doing this again?" Cleo asks the group.

"Because we need money." Pope, Sarah, and Callie tell her at the same time.

Once they dock at the island they are lead up to the house and they meet the son in law of Wes, Chandler Groff, who lets them in the house.

The group was uneasy, especially when Wes arrives and tells them a bizarre story about Blackbeard and Elizabeth, claiming a ghost had visited him. Wes explains that the group needs to retrieve an amulet from Blackbeard's last ship, the Adventure, to lift a 300-year-old family curse. That the amulet is hidden off Goat Island, and Wes offers them $50,000 with $5,000 upfront to recover it.

While they discuss if they should take the deal or not JJ decides for the whole group telling Wes they'll do it, "Now, that initial 5k, is that that right there?" JJ walks over to Groff, who hands over the money.

"Hey, you know what? Actually, I think I'll take this for safekeeping." Pop takes the money from JJ.

"You won't regret this, sir. I promise you. We'll get the job done." JJ shakes Geoff's hand.

As the group leaves the island, Sofia texts Callie to invite her to the party she was at with Rafe. Callie tells her she'll show up in a bit when they get back to the island.

When they do get back, Callie goes home to change into something nice before heading to the party. She honestly didn't want to be at a Kook party but she wanted to see Sofia. And plus Rafe wouldn't let anyone give her shit.

"I don't remember you being inviting to the party." Ruthie sees Callie walk through the doors stopping her.

"Oh, but I was." Callie gives her a smile.

"Are you giving me an attitude, bitch?" Ruthie asks as Sofia spots Callie so she tells Rafe to look who showed up.

Rafe smiles walking over to the two, "What a surprise!" He hugs her so Ruthie walks away. "How did you know about Toppers party?"

"Sofia invited me." She tells him so he looks over at Sofia, who gives him a smile as well. "I feel like I need a friend that's not any of the others, you know?" She means the six.

Rafe nods his head, "I get it. Let me know if anyone gives you shit." He leaves her so she goes over to Sofia.

"You didn't tell Rafe I was coming?" Callie laughs joining her side.

"I may have forgotten to tell him." Sofia plays with her drink then sees how Callie was looking at her, "What? I can't surprise him with you?"

"What's going on?" Callie asks confused, "I thought you had a thing for Rafe? That's what I was picking up when we first met. Now you are surprising him with me?"

Sofia grabs Callie's hand to bring her closer to her, "You weren't wrong. I did have a thing for him but I know he still has feelings for you and it's the same for you. I care about Rafe and I want to be his friend."

"Sofia, Rafe knows I want to focus on myself." Callie tells her.

"I get that. I do, but just see what happens without forcing yourself not to. Listen, I know it's not my business but Rafe was ranting to me and then hearing what you said that day... If JJ is doing well with Kie...why can't you try with Rafe? Just think about it." Sofia tells her before excusing herself to go use the bathroom.

Callie looks over at Rafe getting more to drink before looking away downing her drink. She hated how Sofia had a tiny point. Maybe she should just see what happens without telling herself no.

"Fuck it." Callie walks over to where was talking with a woman.

"Oh hi." The lady smiles, "Who's this?" She asks Rafe.

"This is Callie." Rafe moves her closer to him, "Callie this is Miss Hollis." He introduces them.

"The biggest Realtor on the island." Callie knows of her, "I believe you helped my dad a long time ago."

Hollis tilts her head not knowing, "William Warner, is her father." Rafe tells Hollis.

"Oh yes!" Hollis remembers him, "He was great before he went a little...you know."

"Yeah." Callie nods her head.

"Well it was nice meeting you. And take care Rafe." Hollis leaves the two.

"What did she want with you?" Callie asks him.

"You jealous?" He jokes with her.

"Yeah, what did she offer you?" She laughs shaking her head at him.

"It depends... What do you think? After all she's a cougar too." He pokes at her.

"You are so stupid." She swats his hand away, "I'm gonna go find Sofia." She tries to walk off but he wraps his arms around her playfully.

"No, I haven't seen you in months. You can spend time with me."

"Hey, I'm here aren't I?" She turns around looking up at him, "At a Kook party... Topper's party at that. The guys already hate that I get along with you, and they would hate it even more if they knew I'm with people who hate us."

"You just get along with me? What happened to being your friend?" He laughs as she just looks at him before smiling.

"You just wanna be my friend?" She asks him and he looks at her getting a little confused.

"Huh?"

Callie giggles, "Let's just see what happens." She sees Sofia watching them so he gets out of Rafe's arms, "I'm gonna go hangout with your wingman." As Callie joins Sofia's side, she couldn't help but smile, "Why are you smiling?" Callie asks her.

"Nothing."

"Nothing my ass." Callie laughs.

"So are you taking my advice?" Sofia hands Callie a drink.

"I'm just going with the flow and we'll see what happens." Callie tells her before taking a sip of her drink.

"Hopefully there's no stop signs or yield signs." Sofia makes Callie laugh.

Rafe looks over at the two giggling and talking. He couldn't believe two people he's hooked up with were getting along so well. He couldn't even believe Sofia was actually helping him out with Callie.

After a few more hours of chatting with Sofia and Rafe at times, Callie decided to head on home. Sofia gives her a hug and hopes they can hangout alone again soon. Rafe gives her a hug as well and tells her thanks for swinging by Topper's party.

"Where were you to be dressed up?" Tess laughs as Callie comes in through the front door.

"Sofia, invited me to Topper's party to hangout with her and Rafe."

"And how was that?" Tess pays close attention to her.

"Alright. Sofia is still nice to hangout with." Callie heads to the kitchen to get a drink.

"And Rafe?" Tess asks following her into the kitchen.

"What about Rafe?"

"Anything change or still just friends?" Tess chuckles a bit.

"I'm going with the flow. I thought I should take Sofia's advice. I mean, JJ and Kie are working out so..."

"Why not try with Rafe." Tess finishes the sentence so Callie nods her head.

[111-prxtty]

Phoebe Spengler x reader ~ Locked in

So this is basically mutual pining (pinning? Who knows cos I don't) but they both hate each other but they don't actually know why so technically it's enemies to lovers (but pg)

It seemed like a simple call when it first came in, and it was, the only problem was the aftermath.

Summary: they get trapped in a room (plenty of space dw) and look back on why they hate each other. I think there's some swearing and a cheeky kiss at the end and that's it, enjoy xoxo

★

Callie and Gary had thought it would be a nice opportunity to force you and Phoebe to work together and hopefully start to not hate each other. They were so right.

Catching the ghost was simple enough, you chased it into a dead end and it got sucked into the trap and it was over. The only problem was that the dead end was a room with a singular door that locked on the outside and no windows. Neither of you noticed this until the door had slammed shut whilst Phoebe was picking up the trap.

"Shit"

"Shit" you both said at the same time.

"ugh why does this shit always happen when I'm with you!" You exclaimed, trudging over to attempt to open the door, it didn't budge.

"look, I'm not exactly jumping for joy over here either" you just shot her a glare. At least you tried, you couldn't see much from the small sliver of light from the crack under the door.

Phoebe had set the trap on the floor and pulled out her phone, "I don't think you'll get any service out here"

"I know" you could hear her rolling her eyes, as she turned on her phone torch. You sat down and lent against the wall next to the door, Phoebe did the same on the other side setting her phone on the floor, the torch lighting up the room.

"how much would you bet that Trevor did this" you chuckled at her question,

"how much would you bet he roped lucky into helping him" she laughed this time.

A few minutes of silence went by before she spoke, "I don't think I would want to work anything out just to spite him" you nodded, not that she saw,

"the one thing we agree on" if Trevor did orchestrate this, it was far from the first plan he's had. There had been many situations in which you and Phoebe had been forced together in an attempt to get you two to work things out but you were both too stubborn to let it work, this was the first time you had said more than three or four words to each other which was probably due to the fact that you would be here a while.

You shuffled round to face her, "why do you hate me?" She turned towards you as well,

"i thought we were spiting my brother"

"that's not me asking to become the best of friends, I just want to know why we aren't" she narrowed her eyes, "I guess I started hating you because you were horrible to me"

"no that's not right-"

"my case in point" she cut in,

"but I was horrible to you because you were horrible to me" she was shaking her head,

"but that would completely debunk my reasoning for hating you"

"yeah, you were horrible for no reason so I got my own back"

"but you started the whole hating each other thing"

"what did I do that made you think that?" Your voices were steadily getting louder,

"you were-" she stopped herself short,

"I was what" you had crossed your arms over your chest. You were thinking back to the moment you had met, you had been sitting at the kitchen island and Callie had brought over Phoebe and Trevor to introduce everyone, you had been on your phone but you put it down when they approached you to be polite, it was a blessing really you were stuck on a level of this game and it had been frustrating you. You never got past it and ended up deleting the app. That's when you looked up and Phoebe was just outright mean.

"you were on your phone" she was almost whispering,

"yeah I was playing a really annoying game" you nodded along, waiting for her to get to her point,

"when you looked up at me you seemed disgusted, and I obviously took offence to that-"

"oh, my god you're joking" you really hadn't been disgusted, quite pleased actually, you have a very tiny thing for nerdy brunettes and Phoebe Spangler is the embodiment of that. But you weren't pleased with your phone, "so you're telling me we have hated each other for the past however many months because I didn't fix my face when I looked up from my phone"

"you hated that game, not me, that's why I hated you, and because I hated you you hated me."

"that sums it up"

You were both staring at the floor in disbelief. You had wasted months hating each other because she didn't know how to read people and because you were scared of confrontation. The next few minutes were filled with the sounds of you two taking deep breaths and questioning every decision you had ever made.

"does this mean we can be friends now?" The words felt weird coming out of your mouth,

"I guess, but we cannot tell my brother" you laughed together.

After what could have been hours you were both lying on the floor on your backs next to each other, talking about anything that came to mind, catching up on lost time and also filling the time until someone came to get you out.

The conversation somehow got to your first impressions of each other, "I had heard you were really nice so I was shocked to say the least"

"I had the luxury of googling you before I met you" she sat up and looked down at you,

"no"

" yes, you have a whole page on Wikipedia"

"how did I not know about it"

"probably because you aren't really aware of your fanbase, it says that on the page by the way" you said with a grin on your face. She just frowned.

"does Trevor know?"

"he does but he hasn't looked at it"

"how do you know he hasn't?"

"because if he knew what else came up when you Google 'Phoebe Spangler Ghostbusters' you would not hear the end of it" you were now leaning up on your elbows,

"why? What comes up?" She now looked really worried,

"nothing bad don't worry, let's just say quite a few links for a certain social media platform pop up" she didn't catch on so you elaborated, "people have made edits of you Phoebe"

"what? Edits? Why would they do that" she was even more confused now,

"like I said, you have a substantial fanbase" she was so close to getting it, you could sense it.

When her mouth opened slightly and eyes widened you knew she knew. "There you go" you smiled,

"people think that about me?" Her voice has gone quiet again,

"I mean you aren't terrible to look at" her eyes narrowed at you,

"but what about yo-"

"are you saying you find me attractive?" You teased,

"well yeah but technically you said it first" you went to retort but stopped, not sure what to say.

"I did didn't I" you tilted your head and she looked at you, unsure. You could see the change in her posture when she had decided to play along,

"but were you being serious?"

"I thought it was such a shame when we first met, someone so cute with your curls and pretty eyes, that turned out to just be mean. Obviously I know now that you aren't so I guess it wasn't a shame after all."

In that moment you realised just how close you were to Phoebe. Her knees bumped into your outstretched legs every time she shifted positions slightly. If you sat upright your nose would almost touch her chin.

"I was being serious" she whispered, you almost missed it despite your proximity. You had been examining her face and your gaze shifted to her lips and her tongue darted out to wet them.

"kiss me" you also whispered and she immediately leaned forwards to do so.

She pushed her lips against yours, you reciprocated with the same pressure and brought your hand up to her hair. When you lightly tugged on her curls she groaned and leaned further over making you lie flat on the floor.

Before anything could go any further you heard footsteps coming from down the hallway behind the door and then a banging on the door. Both of you quickly pulled away and put some distance between you and standing up. When the door finally swung open to reveal Trevor and Lucky, Phoebe just said,

"about time" before walking out with you not too far behind shoving the trap from the floor into Trevor that held the ghost that was the whole reason you got locked in that room in the first place. He had a defeated look on his face the whole way home, disappointed his plan hadn't worked. You and Phoebe had shared a look on the way out of the building and had agreed to carry on acting like you hate each other, just to spite him.

It all worked out in the end I guess.

★

I don't know if I love or hate this so lmk. My ask box is always open and thanks for reading! Xx

[spacegoathours]

despite my changes in fandom (which will always happen forever, IZ just... lasted an alarmingly long time), Callie is still hella important to me and i know a lot of you like her too. over the summer i've spent time with some friends and finally felt brave enough to share bits and pieces of writing, and come to terms with the fact that it will never be one big finished fanfic. it's just not in me and i feel like it fits Callie's mysterious vibe to leave gaps in the timeline and certain things up for interpretation.

still, i spent a lot of time in 2022-2023 writing, and i don't want it to never see the light of day. i'm editing VERY slowly but over time hope to have anything that i feel mostly comfortable with, posted here to archive. at some point you gotta just. remember that it's ok to not be a great writer, it's ok if it's cheesy or cringe or whatever, if it makes you happy and it's for funsies and not hurting anyone then DO IT!!!!

anyway i need to think of a tag to keep the writing bits organized if anyone has ideas

[myownwholewildworld]

iii. like obsidian & quartz - acta, non verba

chapter 2 | series masterlist | ao3 | main masterlist | chapter 4 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: your efforts to get the ball rolling on your plan get shunted aside by marcus' chivalry. a/n: hey, hi, hello! i'm sorry it's taken me a month to post the third chapter, but here it is! 💖 i do find posting this series a bit nerve-wracking, just because i have the feeling that this plot is bigger than my writing skills so i keep wondering if i'm making it justice. but i'm rolling with it anyways haha as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. some impure thoughts. one account of a handjob (👀). sexual tension. misogyny. a fair bit of swearing. sword fight, death, wounds, blood... you know the drill. dialogue in italics means it’s spoken in gaelic (unless stated otherwise, i.e. latin) when marcus and callie are in the same scene. marcus is 48, ofc!reader is 26. w/c: ~9.9k. (i'm truly sorry) dividers by @saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

“Here again, wee lass?” Cormag’s croaky voice caught you off guard.

You jumped in place and almost hit the back of your head against the shelf above.

You were bent over a pile of baskets in the kitchen, trying to count how many wild parsnips there were left. With your family gone, you had to look after your people. You worried there was not much left to eat, but the old cook seemed to be good at rationing. The Romans had no measure when it came to food, rapidly dwindling the stock saved for the village. There were way too many mouths to feed now, and the first harvest of the root vegetables would not be for at least another six months.

Your blood boiled when you saw the feasts the Romans were served every night while the servants had a measle chunk of bread and a watered-down broth. You were all living under tyranny — one you hoped to topple. Only if fucking Marcus Acacius was not such a tight cunt, you would be closer to your goal.

It wasn’t for your lack of trying though. Every night you were as suggestive as you could, considering how many pairs of eyes were watching you — enemies’ and allies’ alike. The first lusting after you, wondering if you were a whore who could warm up their bed at night, and the second curious about what game you were up to. Not many people were privy to your plan.

“Ah, ye ogre! You scared the shit out of me,” you chuckled, hand on pounding heart, when you turned around to face him.

Cormag’s thick brows knitted together, his big, round nose red with rage.

“I told you I didn’t want to see you around here until at least tomorrow,” he barked, arms folded with disapproval.

“Come on, Cormag. I’ll work tonight and then—”

“Nay, I don’t want to hear it. You are not working tonight. You’ve worked the last eight nights in a row,” he said between gritted teeth. “I want you to go home to Bonnie and rest.”

You huffed, now your turn to cross arms.

“I need no rest. I am fresh as a daisy, couldn’t be better,” you lied through your teeth.

The reality was you were knackered. You had been helping out in the kitchens day and night, much to Cormag’s despair. If you were not doing a stock check, you were shuffling stuff around for the next meal or cleaning after those filthy, mannerless soldiers. And you were the savages, the cheek they had was beyond you.

“Don’t bullshit me, I can see right through it. Those grey circles under your eyes are screaming for some sleep,” he replied, getting closer to you.

His heavy hands landed on your shoulders, forcing you to turn around and pushing you towards the door. You resisted, digging your heels into the cobblestone.

“Cormag, mas e do thoil e (please)! If I go home, I’m just going to get bored. I need something to occupy my mind with,” you pleaded with him, but he was deaf as a rock to your request.

“The whole point of sleeping is to empty your mind, not to occupy it with something,” he stopped dragging you once you were through the arch.

Sleep had evaded you since your whole family had been murdered. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Marcus’ gladius sinking in your father’s belly, your brothers’ and sister’s intertwined arms as they burnt to ashes, your mother’s mangled body while the Earth swallowed her whole. As if you didn’t have enough demons as it was, tragedy had knocked on your door once more — unannounced, greedy even.

You spun around, flashing your eyelashes at him, puppy eyes and all. Cormag just shook his head no, unwavering, and pointed towards the corridor that would lead you outside.

“I want you out of my sight for one day, fear beag (little one). Humour me, I beg you,” it was almost a prayer, but you knew Cormag did not have one sanctified bone in his body.

“Okay, just one night. But I’ll be back tomorrow!” You shouted over your shoulder, a proper threat, as you sauntered towards the hall.

It was still the early evening, but the courtyard was brimming with life. There were a few legionaries dotted around, swords at the ready. They seemed to train late into the night before they burst in into the great hall to eat and drink like gluttons.

As your feet slithered through the wet grass, you suddenly felt a heavy pair of eyes on you. Brown, beautiful— no, dreadful eyes, you were sure. You didn’t need to look to know that Marcus was watching your every step — your body burnt hot every time he would study you with so much intensity.

And he was doing that again, just now. You debated whether to lock eyes on him or not, but it was a lost fight. Soon enough, your green orbs located him in his black and golden armour walking towards the keep, mud up to his knees and a wild look on his face. One you had not seen before — a crack in his steadfast façade.

Your brows slightly furrowed, almost coming to a halt, while you tried to understand what was different. Then you saw it: his sword was stained with blood. He was not coming back from training, but… from battle? Your heartrate spiked; your eyes slightly widened as your fingers clutched a fist of your long skirt.

What battle? What had happened? What was going on? Who had he hurt? Did you know them? Had you lost someone dear? Was death knocking at your door once more?

You tamed your features as he approached, putting on your best act as you calmed down your quick breathing. His eyes never left yours, not while he walked from the portcullis to the keep, not once.

As he got to where you were, he nodded in your direction, as if to say, “don’t worry, I’m okay.” You then understood he mistook your concern, thinking it was for him. Oh, how wrong he was… You were not worried about him in the slightest, but about whoever succumbed to his sword.

As soon as he and his retinue disappeared into the keep, you bunched your skirt up and started running towards the village, dreading what you might find there.

Five minutes later, you were in the town’s square. A crowd was gathered around the stone well. The shrieking cry of a mother cradling his dead son pierced through the silence, boring into your heart.

“My wee lad, mo mhac (my son)!” Her screams formed a knot in your throat, one so tight you feared you could not breath.

You forged your way through the multitude, finding the woman on her knees, hugging her son close to her chest. You knew them — you knew everyone in your lands, if not by face, by name at least. These you knew by face and name.

Torcall was standing right behind her, blood on his clothes indicating he had been the one bringing the lad back for his mother to mourn.

Torcall’s sombre expression prevented you from saying anything, even when you looked at him for answers. He just shook his head no and turned around to speak to a young man. You quickly recognised him too, Dòmhnall — son to the grieving woman, brother to the deceased boy. Dòmhnall nodded to Torcall’s words and vanished.

Torcall made his way towards you and pushed you aside.

“What the fuck is going on, Torcall?”

“People are growing restless, Callie. The Romans were by the firth, training in the murky waters. Some lads saw Acacius alone for one second and thought they could take him,” he didn’t need to explain what the outcome had been.

“What were they thinking? Taking on the General? How old were they?”

“Around ten and five. When Acacius killed the boy, his friends panicked, dragged him out and retreated. I found them in the woods. The others were lucky to escape alive,” Torcall sighed heavily and so did you.

“We all need to be careful here. We’ve got to play the long game. Once we have enough information from them, then we can start planning some skirmishes to diminish their numbers, but not before,” you pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration as you both walked towards Bonnie’s.

“People don’t listen to reason when they feel threatened,” he looked at you askance, then back down to his feet, momentarily lost in thought. “You need to speak to some people, let the rumour spread that you’re working towards freedom — otherwise they’ll feel like they’ve been forgotten, and rightfully so. Let people know that they will need to be ready to fight when you command them. Give them some hope, something to look forward to.”

You didn’t want to show your hand too early, but Torcall was partially right. If this continued, if people tried to get their own justice, it would end up being more tragic than what ought to be. You could not endure more senseless loss of life, your clansmen dying for naught.

Your plan was so clear in your head, a simple to-do list —gain Marcus’ trust, kill off his army little by little, then finish him once he was the last man standing— but yet you hoped effective. If someone deviated, if someone betrayed you, then it would all be over way too soon. And you would end up like your mother — left for dead, hung in a cage off the keep as if you were a rat exposed to the elements.

“My athair’s retinue are already in the know,” you thought out loud, lips pouting with doubt. “But I did make them swear they would not tell a soul.”

Torcall propped open the wooden door to Bonnie’s crannog, the creaking noise welcoming you to the only home you knew now.

“I’ll go speak to my cousins, Seumas and Anndra, tomorrow. I know how eager they are to start a war, so this might appease them. I don’t want people up in arms just yet, we’ll wait for the Romans to be at their lowest,” you whispered back to him.

“Uhm, maybe—” Torcall��s voice got drown by the ones of his children.

“Auntaidh, auntaidh (auntie)!”The synchronised cacophony of your niece and nephew swept away part of the guilt you were feeling, forcing a wide smile onto your lips.

“I don’t think she’s here tonight, Marcus,” Maximus jest made his head turn to his direction.

With a cocked brow, Marcus feigned ignorance, the wooden fork in his hand mindlessly pushing around a lone meatball on his plate.

“Who?” He asked, as if neither of them knew who Maximus was referring to.

Your presence in the great hall every night had become a welcomed sight, one he had grown used to over the last few days. Not because it was soothing, but because it caused havoc. That was what he welcomed — someone who was not taken aback by his presence, someone who would hold his gaze and wouldn’t fold, someone who would shamelessly say his first name the way you said it nine nights ago.

And if he was entirely honest with himself, he also welcomed your advances. Not that he was showing it, but every taunting Dux Meus (my General/Leader/God), every suggestive glance, every time you touched him, his skin would set ablaze. It was just a harmless game, as long as it remained just that. He was here to do a job, and nothing should get in the way of that — even if a red-haired, green-eyed nymph tempted him down the path of infidelity.

How hypocritical of him to think of all the things he would do to you if given the chance, when he despised his wife for doing exactly that.

“What was her name? Connie? Charlie?” Maximus tapped his chin with one finger, pretending to think.

“Callie,” Marcus bit the bait without realising.

“Ah, yes. Callie. How could you forget when the poor woman has been throwing herself at you for more than a week now and you have given her nothing in return?” The commander observed with an ample grin. “Have you claimed her yet? Fucked her?”

His whole body went rigid with rage at Maximus’ provocation. Sometimes he hated his friendship with him, the liberties he took even though he was above the man in the command chain. If it wasn’t because there were still people on the dais, Marcus would have punched him square in the jaw to shut him up.

Instead, his eyes darted to his friend’s with a dark warning in them. Maximus laughed it off, leaning back on his chair and looking at him with a mischievous smile.

“I’ll take that as a no then. I bet she’s tired of being ignored and that’s why she’s not here tonight. Maybe she’s fucking one of your legionaries in the barracks right now. Damn, maybe I’ll do that myself—”

“Are you fucking done?” He interrupted, the legs of his chair screeching as he dragged it backwards to stand up.

“Have I touched a nerve now?” Maximus’ smile just grew bigger as he stood up too, palming Marcus’ shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, old friend. Helping you, actually. You need to get laid, clear your mind of war for one night. Your hair is greyer now than what it was a month ago.”

“I don’t need your advice nor your teasing. It may be all fun and games to you, but there’s a lot on the line here,” Marcus sneered as they walked down the corridor formed by cheery and drunk soldiers sat at their tables.

He wasn’t worried about his reputation but all the debts he owed. Not him, specifically, but his wife. The lush life she led at home would ruin him eventually.

Maximus’ demeanour changed, hands laced on his back and head bowed down in deep thought.

“I know what’s at stake, Marcus. We all are doing what we can to find the instigator,” only then Marcus realised that Maximus was talking about the attempt on his life that afternoon. “Valerius’ henchman was able to follow the boy into the forest. He’s definitely dead.”

He said it as if it was good news, but that death would haunt Marcus at night. It had been just a boy, probably not more than ten and six, who had met his fate at his sword. Marcus had tried to keep him at bay, but when the boy lunged forwards with a small knife on his hand, he basically impaled himself on the gladius Marcus was holding to ward him off.

“Good to hear,” he replied with a flat, lacking voice.

Maximus angled his head, then shook it.

“Good night, Marcus. I’ll let you know if I see your Callie entertaining the men in the barracks,” Maximus waved him goodbye, light-heartedly.

“Sod off,” he rolled his eyes, before turning the corner.

A tiny part of him wanted to go after his friend and check himself, make sure you were not fucking another man.

That thought made him frown. What you did or didn’t do was none of his business. In fact, you were a free woman and could do as you pleased. Even if that meant you were not pleasing him.

You threw the saddle on Kelpie’s back — she was your late mother’s horse. The horse was as black as coal with a shiny, short coat. She was a young one, so still needed a fair amount of training — at least, she was properly socialised. Mòrag had died before she could train her newest addition. This horse was, most probably, the closest you would ever be to your màthair (mother).

The mare neighed loudly when you tried to adjust the saddle on her belly and moved around nervously, trotting in place to put distance between you two. You shushed her, caressing her muzzle and chin groove.

“Shh, shhh… It’s okay, àlainn (lovely). I see you don’t like that, do you?” You whispered in a calming manner until the mare quietened down.

You leaned forward until your forehead pressed against hers and then placed a gentle kiss on the bridge of Kelpie’s nose before reaching towards her back to remove the untied saddle.

“Barebacking it is then,” the idea didn’t thrill you, but you didn’t fancy walking all the way to Bun Craobh (Bunchrew).

That morning you had gone out to the barn to speak to Anndra and Seumas, only to find out they were no longer there. When you went back into the crannog, Bonnie mentioned they had left the morning prior. Something about a carpentry job in the next town over required their attention, or that was they had told their mother.

You had a nagging feeling that wasn’t true. The siblings were ardent defenders of your family, so you knew they would not stand idly. What brought them to Bun Craobh though, you were not sure but intended on finding out.

You led Kelpie out of the stables and into the courtyard of your castle. You hoped no one would notice you sneaking out with a horse that allegedly didn’t belong to you, but you were obviously out of luck — had been for a while now.

“Hey, puella (young lady)! Where do you think you’re going with that horse?” One of the roman soldiers cut you off, hands on hips and a deep frown. You recognised him from sitting on the dais with Marcus, although you didn’t know his name.

You cursed him under your breath, but composed a sweet smile, when you just wanted to knee his balls and run past him.

“I’m in need of a horse. We are out of some herbs and spices in the kitchens, so I was going to visit the town’s healer…” You explained with your eyes averted down and fingers laced in front of you.

“I’ll take care of this, Cassius,” Marcus appeared on his back, a heavy, broad and very masculine hand landing on the shoulder of the man in front of you.

For a brief second, you saw a flicker of disgust in his eyes, but Cassius quickly masked it with a deferent nod before walking away. Your eyes followed him, curious as to what you had just seen. Did Cassius despise Marcus? Why?

“Where are you going, Callie?” The General’s deep, throaty voice made you look in his direction.

For a second, you got lost in his chocolate eyes — there was an almost imperceptible sadness in them, a tinge of regret that seemed to haunt him every day and every night. How could that possibly be when he dispatched people to their deaths so mindlessly, so effortlessly?

“Cormag needs some bits for his cooking, Dux Meus,” you explained again, and there it was.

His irises darkened with the last two words, the sadness transforming into something else — liquid darkness. You held his gaze, hypnotised by how the desire rapidly kicked the sadness out of him. And you knew he was holding onto every bit of his control, taming his body not to react to your words — but his eyes he could not govern. They were a window to his lust.

You fought with your own craving. The way he stared at you made your skin run hot as ember and slick pool in your slit. You had been wondering what it would feel like to be fucked raw by a man like Marcus Acacius; you had even fantasized about it a few nights.

An donas dubh (dammit)! If it wasn’t for how crowded Bonnie’s crannog was, you would have even touched yourself to the thought of him plunging in and out between your thighs.

That idea was so foreign to you, it took you aback.

“Is that okay?” His question lingered; Marcus’ head tilted with knitting brows.

You looked at him doe eyed as you came out of your wet haze. Fuck, stop imagining things, he’s right there talking to you! You reprimanded yourself before blinking a few times to clear your mind.

“I-I’m sorry, Dominus (Master)?” The slight stammer in your voice was not faked this time around.

“I said I’ll accompany you to wherever you need to go. It’s not safe out there, even less so for a lonely maid serving the Romans,” he repeated.

That offer shocked you because you were not expecting such gallantry from him. You also had to smother a snicker — you were not at risk of anything, this was your land, your people. But Marcus did not know that.

“Oh, it’s not necessary, my lord. I know my way around—”

“I insist. Please,” he added, his fists curled on his sides.

If the look in his eyes indicated anything, that would be that Marcus Acacius would not accept no for an answer. And that would mess your whole itinerary up, because you could not take him to Bun Craobh, in case your cousins were really planning something. Now you would really have to go to Naimh’s new cottage, even though that was not your plan at all.

“Awright, aye,” you conceded, an unwilling smile crooking your lips.

“I didn’t see you last night in the great hall,” Marcus broke the surprisingly comfortable silence.

He was riding on your left and you couldn’t help but turn your head to watch him. So, your efforts were going somewhere at last. For eight nights you had been on his heels, serving him as if that was what you were born to do. Your attempts at seducing him began to be so obvious, you could hear the other maids giggling to themselves every time you leaned over his shoulder, offering him a clear sight of your generous cleavage.

Even his soldiers had noticed. You had been so obvious, other men thought you were a pleasure woman and that was invitation enough for some of them to try and reach for your ass whenever you approached their tables. Disgusting behaviour, but you had to laugh your way out of it and slap some hands so no one would take offense at your rejection.

“Cormag would not let me work again. I really wanted to be there though,” you said truthfully, watching him in the corner of your eye.

Marcus straightened his back, as if suddenly uncomfortable, and studied your surroundings.

It was still early afternoon, but it seemed to be later due to the thick tree canopy above you. You were travelling westward through the dense forest that neared Beauly Firth. Naimh had moved to a crannog in the road to Bun Craobh after her home in Loch Moy had been burnt to ashes. Thankfully, she had not been home when it happened. A small win in your book.

“I see. He worries about you,” he noted, jaw tight as he spoke.

“Aye, he’s like a father to me,” that old git really was. “I should be back to work tomorrow.”

“Good,” he replied without even thinking and you knew he did not intend to say that out loud. “I mean, you’re one of the few people who speak Latin. It’s hard to communicate with the rest,” Marcus added swiftly to veil his slip of tongue.

You smiled to yourself, realising this was the first time you two were alone, away from prying eyes.

“You only need to ask, Marcus,” you whispered, your voice charged with the right hint of suggestion and provocation.

His neck snapped in your direction at your words.

“Ask what?”

He knew exactly what. The man was stubborn as a mule, playing hard to get. But he was not immune to your advances, as much as he wanted to conceal his lust for you.

“You know what,” was your simple answer before spurring Kelpie on with the heels of your leather shoes.

You spotted a small hut between some trees off the main path, that had to be the crannog that Naimh had found in her search for a new home. You had seen that cottage a few times before, always abandoned and eerie — legend said that was where the wisps would lead you at night.

Kelpie sprinted towards it, and you heard Marcus’ horse neigh a few feet behind you. You needed to act fast before good ol’ Naimh gave you away and revealed your identity. So, the moment you dismounted and Naimh was under the frame of the main door, you threw your arms around her neck.

She was a fragile woman in her late sixties, white hair and wrinkling skin. Her nose a tad too prominent, her lips wide and big, slanted eyes. She was tiny too, with a crouched back that made her look even smaller.

“Naimh!” You exclaimed excitedly, and then whispered in her ear in Gaelic, “He doesn’t know who I am. Call me Callie, play along, please.”

The old woman stilled and then patted your back in understanding.

“Ah, my sweet Callie, so good to see you. I started to think you’d forgotten about this old crone. This how you treat the elderly?” She spoke in your native language, which meant Marcus would not understand a word.

“He doesn’t understand, Naimh, you don’t need to put on the best act of your life, just be mindful of my name,” you sniggered, holding her hands with both of yours. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“So have I, leannan (darling), so have I,” she squeezed your hands before dropping hers to her sides, her eyes squinting with a bit of hatred.

Marcus cleared his throat, standing right behind you. You stepped aside.

“General, this is Naimh, our town’s healer. Naimh, this is General Acacius,” you introduced them in Latin, although you were sure Naimh did not understand much.

“My pleasure,” he bowed his head slightly while Naimh stared him down as if he was a snake trying to steal the eggs off her nest.

The old woman just grunted and walked back inside, not responding to his pleasantry.

Shrugging, you looked at Marcus.

“Don’t mind her too much, she’s not really fond of anyone,” that much was true.

“She’s fond of you,” he pointed out with a raised brow.

“Well, yeah, that’s because I pester her a lot. I can be very insisting.”

“You definitely are,” he muttered under his breath, not intended for your ears, but you heard that.

With a sufficient grin, you turned on your heels and got inside the crannog with Marcus right behind you.

By the time you were done with the visit, it was almost pitch-black outside. The weather, as everything in the Highlands, had turned too — it was dreich and drizzling, a light, damp mist hanging low, close to the ground.

You attached the thread of the little hemp sack around your waist as you waved goodbye to Naimh. She had given you an assortment of different spices she had stocked up: wild mountain thyme, dried pepper dulse and coriander grass. You were not sure if Cormag needed them, but you had to keep up with the lie in Marcus’ presence.

Both horses were lazily grazing around. They looked so different—Marcus’ white as a quartz, yours black as obsidian—they reminded you of how opposite you both were. Ironic, really, that the mare and the stallion were now approaching each other and rubbing necks.

“Kelpie,” you called her. Your mother’s horse barely looked at you, too busy grooming the back of Marcus’ horse with her teeth. “Hey!”

Kelpie almost brayed like a donkey, showing her annoyance, before she cantered towards you with a loud neigh.

“Oi, calm down. We’ve got to go back,” you asked of her, grabbing the reins.

“Kelpie? That’s an unusual name,” Marcus said while he jumped onto his horse’s back graciously.

Your mother had let you choose the name when it was first born, in one of your last visits to your family home as a married woman. A brief respite shared with Mòrag where you had forgotten who you were married to — you had spent the whole afternoon coming up with uncommon names and had finally settled for Kelpie.

“It’s a creature that inhabits lochs. They are shape-shifting spirits that usually take the form of a black horse,” you explained as you managed to get on top of the mare. A difficult task, considering there was no saddle to hold onto. “Some people say they are evil because they prey on us. They drag their victims into the water, devour them, and throw the entrails to the water's edge, so they can lure their next casualty. I think that’s just survival. There is no treachery in their nature.”

By the time you had finished talking, you were by Marcus’ side. His eyebrows almost touched each other, and you wondered if he had picked on your cutting remark about treachery. Whether he did or not, you did not know.

“Are they just stories to scare children away from deep water or are they real?” He questioned after a deliberating minute as both of your horses resumed the path ahead.

“I have never seen a kelpie myself, but I know folk who have perished to them,” you shrugged, the image of dismembered bodies by Loch Ness coming back to you. “It’s not a pretty picture.”

“I bet. Your people seem to have many stories about lurking creatures. I have seen the tapestries telling the story of the dragon-like monster living in the lake nearby,” he said with a pinch of incredulity in his voice.

“Loch. We call them lochs, not lakes,” you corrected him.

“Sorry, loch,” he said back with a soft ch, head cocked towards you. It was a good attempt.

“And that would be Nessie. She’s a staple around here, everyone loves her,” you joked. “She’s a Kelpie, but one which transforms into some sort of dragon. I’m not sure though, never seen her myself. But if you ever speak to Cormag, he’ll tell you all about her. Best mates they are, so he says.”

As soon as you spoke of the cook, you realised your mistake. You were talking too much, telling him all about a land he hated, a land he wanted to steal from you. A land he would destroy along with all its people. There was no point in explaining to him all about what made Caledonia special if he was here to wreck your life.

“The cook?” He pressed and you simply nodded, remaining silent.

For ten minutes neither of you talked. Weirdly, the silence was not ever bothersome. You didn’t have the need to fill it, and neither did he.

Until he did.

“My stud’s name is Faun,” he muttered, resuming the dead conversation where you had left it.  The stallion’s ears perked up at the sound of his name. “They are half-human, half-goat creatures. They inhabit forests like this back home. Some say they instil fear in travelling men and drive them to madness, others say they can guide you to safety. Never encountered one myself either.”

You turned your head around to glance at him. His story was strangely similar to yours, just adapted to his own beliefs. How could two very different people share something so unique as your love for mythical creatures?

“They sound beautiful. And before you judge me for saying that… beauty is on the eye of the beholder,” you added with a mellow laugh. You found goats endearing.

Marcus’ serious expression softened. “Evil or not, I do think they are too.”

Your eyes locked for an eternal second and you wondered why there was an unfamiliar feeling sitting low in your belly.

A split second was all it took to make you snap out of whatever brief connection you suddenly felt.

You heard the whistling sound before you saw the arrow sticking out of Marcus’ left shoulder, in that unprotected spot where the shoulder pad met the breastplate. The arrow had flown just a few inches away from your ear.

Marcus’ eyes widened as reality settled in. Out of nowhere, three men emerged from the woods, face painted with soot—the whites of their eyes sparkled under the full moon.

The sudden movement scared off Kelpie, who harshly stirred around and started galloping towards the trees with no regard for her rider—you. You managed to hold on to the low branches of the trees, Kelpie slipping from between your thighs as the mare ran towards safety alone, leaving you hanging from a branch.

The clink of metal behind you forced you to let go of the branch, landing on your feet like a graceful cat. When you turned around, you saw that Marcus had dismounted Faun. His stud, at least, had not abandoned his rider to the mercy of his enemies the same way your mare had. Little traitorous horse.

“Get back!” Marcus shouted at you as he repositioned his body between you and the threat of the threesome.

But they were no threat to you, you were sure. They were here to kill him. The same way some fucking kids had tried to end him that very afternoon. Were people plain, thick gòrach (stupid)?

“People are growing restless,” Torcall had said to you yesterday. So much so they would endanger you too? Your cover? What were you supposed to do now?

If you helped them and Marcus survived, you would be dead before dawn, your cover blown.

If you helped them and Marcus died, Agricola would appoint a new man in Marcus’ stead. One that might not fit well into your plan. And you would be hunted down too.

If you helped him and they survived, they would go back to your folk and tell them all how you betrayed them, how you turned against them — how you protected the General.

If you helped him and they died… Your conscience would be tainted forever.

Or you could do nothing — let destiny run its course. The General deserved to die for what he had done to your family; it was actually only fair. But Marcus needed to be killed off at the right time — not sooner nor later. Just right, as a pig hung for slaughter on the first days of winter.

As the Romans would say, Alea iacta est (the dice is cast).

“Caileag fealltach (traitorous lass)!” One of the men screeched before leaping on you, sgian-dubh (small knife) on his left and a longer sword on his right hand.

The raucous sound of steel colliding sparked life back into you. Marcus’ gladius had curbed the attack. And with a thundering flourish of his sword, the edge of it hit the man’s side with deadly precision. The attacker crumbled to his knees, a fountain of blood varnishing the grass underneath.

“Mac na galla (son of a bitch), I’ll have your head for this!” The taller man cowed in Gàidhlig.

Marcus’ hand pushed you back — unbeknownst to you, you had taken a few steps forward, wanting to say something, anything to stop this madness.

Marcus and his opponent exchanged a few strident blows. Despite the General being substantially older than his adversary, his movements were more gracious, trained, measured, while the other man’s were sloppy and directionless. It was only a matter of minutes until one of them tired out, and your bet, regrettably, was on your clansman.

“What is a lass like you doing with a man like him? Are you his whore or what? Have you no shame, woman?” The recriminatory voice of the last man came to you in your mother tongue, albeit a slightly different accent.

He had swerved towards you while Marcus was distracted with the other man, too focused on the dance of swords. You were unarmed, this fight you would not win.

Your kinsman’s sword swayed in front of you, and you managed to jump back, avoiding the blade by a mere inch. Your eyes shot back to his, back slightly crouched, trying to predict his next movement.

A malicious smirk appeared on your opponent’s lips, as if he was enjoying himself.

“I’m going to send you to fucking Dubnos (Hell), so you can rot there with the low-lives you get involved with,” the threat was not veiled.

He lunged forward and you dropped to the floor — eyeing the dead man’s blood-soaked sgian-dubh, you grabbed it and held it close to your chest.

“I don’t think so. I don’t want to kill you, please,” you almost begged him between gritted teeth as you dragged yourself back a few feet, slowly getting up as Marcus’ fight unfolded fifteen yards away from where you stood.

A brief glance in his direction told you he was holding up alright, just as you knew he would. You had seen him in a sword fight before — your father had died because of it. Because of him.

“Kill me? You?” he laughed out loud. “You’re just a sad, little, useless woman. What do you think you can do to me? Bet the closest you have ever been to a knife is in a kitchen, where you fucking belong. There and warming up some man’s bed, but not his,” he barked back, almost looming over you.

What he just said struck you as odd. Did this man not know how many battles you had fought besides your father, your entire family, to protect your land, your clan?

You could not recognise him under all the soot, his hair tied back and covered in mud in a pretty good attempt at concealing his identity.

Before you could question him, he lunged forwards.

“Callie, no!” You heard Marcus’ call, a note of fear sullying his words.

An acute relief washed over him when the man in front of you fell to his knees, laying at your feet. A big, burgundy stain tarnished your blue dress around your belly area. A bloody knife was firm on your steady hand, your eyes devoid of emotion — had you done this before? Impossible, he thought to himself, she’s just a maid.

The relief just grew in his tight chest when your eyes locked with his. But what he saw in them caught him off guard — fear?

“Marcus!”

Then he felt it. The ripping of skin, the sinking of metal through flesh, then a few twists of the knife rearranging his guts for good measure — then warmth. Sticky, wet warmth soaking the woollen tunic underneath his armour.

“Die, bastard,” his attacker whispered in his ear, the words strangely clear to him.

Marcus’ eyes quickly drifted down to see one of those small knives the barbarians used, sunken down to its hilt on the left-hand side of his lower abdomen, right under his lorica. He didn’t feel the pain, not just yet — just rage.

He had disarmed his rival but blundered. He shouldn’t have, but the moment he realised you were no longer behind him, he frantically searched his surroundings to find you quite a few feet away from him, from his protection. He thought you dead when he saw you so close to that man, almost entrapped in an intimate embrace. Turned out, you could protect yourself alright.

His left fingers followed the red river dripping onto the ground, almost mesmerised by the sight of his own thick blood.

Snapping out of his trance and with shock still holding him upright, he effortlessly swung his sword — the other man eyeing him with fright, realising those were his last seconds on this worldly plane.

The head of the last man standing rolled off his shoulders and hit the ground with a sharp thud.

“No, Marcus, no! Don’t pull it out,” you whispered into his neck, your fingers wrapping around his on the hilt of the knife.

When did you bridge the distance? How were you so close? He hadn’t heard you. At all.

His mind went numb as more blood poured from his body, his speech slurred as his grasp on consciousness became looser by the minute.

“I need to—,” he mumbled, brows frowned and fingers tighter.

“No, you’ll bleed out. Please, listen to me. If you want to live, don’t fucking touch it,” your sweary prayer finally reached him, and he loosened up the grip on the knife. “Shite. Faun! Fucking shite, Faun! Come, boy, come!” He barely saw you waving down his horse — his sight going too.

Marcus fought to stay afloat, but the waves were relentless, bigger than him, pushing him down to the seabed. He was drowning.

“Can you— Fuck, Marcus, can you jump?”

He looked at you confused, then in front of him. Faun was standing right there, waiting for him to hop onto his back. His hand held on to the saddle but couldn’t bring himself up.

“Ad genua (to your knees), Faun,” he muttered in Latin, and the stallion knelt almost instantly.

“Thank the fucking gods he’s trained be…” Marcus didn’t hear the last of your sentence as he plummeted on top of Faun, the knife and arrow sinking further in his flesh.

If it wasn’t for his impending death, you would have been relieved when Marcus fainted.

“…trained better than my mother’s mare,” was how you ended your sentence. One that would have fucked your whole plan up. And your life too.

“Fuck, this is bad. Really bad,” you muttered to yourself frantically as you sat down on the saddle.

You pushed Marcus’ body up, making him sit upright facing you with his heavy, manly thighs over yours — your knees pressing hard around Faun’s back to keep your balance as the stud stood up. You cradled Marcus’ cheeks and lightly patted him.

“Marcus. Hey, wake up,” you whispered, uprooting no reaction from him whatsoever. “Fuck, I said wake up!” You slapped him harder this time, the sound ricocheting on the trees and the palm of your hand itchy — it shouldn’t given the circumstances, but smacking him felt damn good.

The General groaned but didn’t open his eyes. With your right forearm pressed against his chest, your fingers wrapped around the arrow on his left shoulder. With as much care as you could and trying not to wiggle the arrow, you snapped the shaft at the hafting with the help of your left hand.

Marcus did not complain, so he had to be really out of it right now. You let him lean forward with his sweaty forehead lodged in the crook of your neck — way too close for comfort. You detested his proximity, but your body had a mind of its own. His warm breath fanning your skin made your hair stand.

Not the fucking time.

“Focus, dammit,” you summoned all your strength.

You were closer to Naimh’s crannog than to the Inbhir Nis’ fortress. You did not know what other threats lied ahead and Marcus was in dire need of help — you could feel his blood dripping onto the saddle, staining Faun’s white coat. Naimh would have everything you required to patch him up and her hut was well hidden.

You looked in both directions, Faun patiently awaiting your command. You veered the reins to the left.

“Hyah, hyah!” You compelled the stallion with a subtle kick of your heels.

Faun darted forward, fast as a wildcat, and you wrapped your arm around Marcus’ waist to prevent him from falling sideways to the ground.

It only took you ten minutes to get to Naimh’s again. You reined Faun back and he came to a sudden stop just a couple of feet away from the door.

“Ad genua,” you said to the horse, remembering the General’s command, and Faun knelt.

By that point, Marcus’ mind was very far away. You threaded your arms under his and  dragged him all to the crannog. There was a red trickle all the way from the saddle to where you were now.

“Fuck,” with the heel of your foot, you kicked Naimh’s door. “Naimh, it’s me, open up!”

You heard the rustling of her feet as she sauntered towards the door, swinging it open. With your back towards her, you could not see her expression, but you bet on shock.

“Obh obh (oh dear), what’s happened? Are you hurt?” You could tell Naimh was extremely worried.

“I’m fine. Him… well, not so much. We’ve been attacked. I don’t know who sent those men, but they were out for blood,” you explained as you hauled him back inside.

Thank the gods you were strong enough to grab him by his shoulders and lay him down on Naimh’s bed.

“Did you recognise them?” She asked while searching for her healing kit — a basket with a sharp, small knife, some eyed needles made of bone, wool thread and a few different species of fresh plants and herbs.

“No, I didn’t. They covered their faces in soot and their hair with mud, I could barely tell they were human,” you omitted the fact that you had to stab one of them to death to keep your cover intact and also to save yourself. Naimh was a healer, she would not understand having to take someone else’s life voluntarily.

You, on the other hand, were used to it.

Your hands worked faster than your brain — you grabbed the knife and cut Marcus’ tunic, from the edge of the skirt to his hip, so you would have better access to the wound on his lower abdomen. That was the one which was profusely bleeding, while the arrowhead seemed to block the wound enough so it wouldn’t bleed too.

You focused your eyes on the wound and not on his almost-exposed lap. You had a job to do if you wanted him to survive this. Not wanted really, you needed him to survive for now, so he could die at the right time.

You pressed the injury with your left hand, the protruding blade lodged between your middle and index fingers, and then pulled curtly from the hilt of the sgian-dubh.

Marcus’ eyes flew wide open, a restrained groan ripping his throat. His hand tightly wrapped around your wrist, his arched back slightly off the straw cushion. His orbs were wild with pain — the veins on his neck chiselled on his skin, so pronounced you thought they would explode. You kept the pressure on the wound while pushing him back down onto the bed.

“It’s okay. Relax, I’ve got you,” you tried to calm him down. His big, brown eyes studied you, considering if he should trust you with his life. His fingers were so solidly wrapped around your wrist, you were sure he was restricting your bloodflow. “You have no other option. It’s me or whatever god of the dead you praise,” you muttered, holding his gaze.

With a painful grunt, he let go of your wrist and settled back down. His jaw was so clenched, you were almost worried he would break a tooth.

“Naimh, bring me a stick of wood or something for him to chew on while I stitch him up. And some wine,” you asked of the old woman.

Soon enough you had everything you needed. You offered the woodstick to Marcus, who quickly understood what it was for and opened his mouth. You placed it between his teeth and he bit down on it.

You quickly removed the heel of your hand from the seeping gash and poured wine over it to disinfect it. Marcus hissed in pain, muffled by the stick he was chewing. You patted the area with a rag to clean it and then extended your hand towards Naimh, palm up. She had already threaded the eyed needle.

“This is going to hurt,” you warned him before piercing the first layer of skin.

You focused on the task at hand, blocking out any distractions. The needle was not the sharpest, so you had to really puncture the skin to get it through to the other side — you were sure that Marcus hated every bone of yours every time the blunt tip of the needle stroked his skin.

The wound was very deep, probably too deep for sutures, but you had no other alternative. His attacker had really intended on gutting him like a cow — the skin was ripped around the edges, as if the man had twisted the blade several times once it had already sunk in Marcus’ flesh.

By the time you were done, it still looked gnarly, but at least it wasn’t bleeding so much now. You had been so absorbed in your doing, you had not realised that Marcus had fainted again — probably a combination of blood loss and pain had sent him straight to Aengus’ embrace, God of Dreams.

You knew he was completely unconscious when you pulled the arrow out of his shoulder and followed the same procedure with not a single complaint from him. The starred scar would heal better than the butchering on his tummy. You were no expert, but at least you gave him a fighting chance.

“Naimh, could you prepare one of your concoctions, please? We need to cover the wounds and aid the healing process. Otherwise it’s going to become infected,” you asked while packing away the stuff you had used off her basket.

You saw her shuffling some shelves in search of specific ingredients and let her do her job. After putting away the basket, you walked back to the bed Marcus was splayed on.

What a fucking sight.

The lorica still covered his torso, but you had removed the shoulder plates to have better access to the arrow. The tunic underneath the cuirass that hung from his waist down was ripped apart — you had to so you could patch him up. Just a few inches away, you knew, was the core of his manhood.

You wondered… Better not to dwell there for long.

Then there were his hairy, thick thighs, and a pair of leather sandals plaited around his muscular calves. The man’s anatomy spoke of power, vigour, strength.

Most of his visible skin, along with the tunic and armour, was stained in dry, scarlet blood. The picture in front of you, although suggestive, was gruesome, bordering on sadistic. So, you definitely should not feel the way you did — curious, too curious.

“Here,” Naimh’s offering brought you back. “Apply this to the wounds, should keep any festering at bay.”

“Tapadh leibh a Naimh (thank you),” you thanked her, taking the mortar from her hands.

The mixture looked gooey and greenish — pretty regular, considering there was a ton of aloe vera in it.

“Do you want me to send word to the castle, mo bana-phrionnsa (my princess)?”, she offered, placing a little, fragile hand on your shoulder.

“Aye, if you don’t mind,” a brief pause to jog your memory. “Make sure it reaches Maximus, and Maximus only,” you added.

That commander seemed to be the closest thing to a friend Marcus had here. You had seen them on the dais, exchanging whispers and jests in a brotherly manner. Surely he would be someone Marcus would trust with his life.

“Na gabh dragh, measag (don’t worry, dear). You know my will-o'-wisps only reach those who I command them to,” her voice lowered, a sweet grin painted on her wrinkling face before vanishing through the door.

You knew Naimh came from a long bloodline of druids and sorceresses — she could be found attending to the coirtheachan (standing stones), ensuring they were clean with oblations left at their feet, speaking to animals and trees, or lighting fires with the mere snap of her fingers. Once, as a child, you saw how a wave of her hand over the flames made some sparks flicker away from the bonfire and dance through the air until they disappeared between some trees. The first wisps you had ever seen.

So when Naimh spoke of her will-o’-wisps, you did not question her one bit. You were one hundred percent sure that the message would get to Maximus in record time.

Your attention drifted back to the unconscious man on the bed. You needed to do something about the deplorable state he was in.

His eyelids were so heavy, his mind so foggy, Marcus was not able to open them just yet. Coming back to his senses would take all the strength he had left and that wasn’t much. His limbs felt weighty yet jelly-like too. How damn boorish of him if this was how he greeted death, unable to even shake hands with the Parcae (Fates).

A lifetime of bloodshed and war, and this was how his life would end, away from a real battlefield. What a shame.

His mind kept wandering and almost didn’t register a soft, velvety feeling on his right shin. It was warm and light, and it came and went like a gush of wind. That feeling, that touch, expanded to his thigh, his hip, his tummy, his chest. It was everywhere, right there on the confines on his imagination and on his damn skin.

Weird what the mind would come up with when on its last legs.

Slowly he drifted away again, and when Marcus came back to once more, he wasn’t sure how long it had been. Minutes. Hours. Days?

This time though, his senses flared alive. One more than the others — the sense of touch. The previous warmth, dry before, now was wet. It dripped and dripped, creating a river that ran down his thigh.

The heaviness that had him in a chokehold had softened, and so was able to move one hand, inspecting what that liquid warmth was. Blood?

“Don’t touch,” a firm yet soothing voice warned him.

Something wrapped around his wrist and placed his hand back down on the ground. No, not on the ground… on a bed?

After several attempts, Marcus managed to flutter his eyes open. White vision first, he blinked until the fog dissipated. And then he saw you there, sat by his side — inquiring, green eyes staring him down.

He held your gaze for what seemed like an eternity, while the memories flooded back. The arrow, the attackers, the sword fight, you stabbing that man to his death, the knife deeply lodged in his abdomen. The stitching, the painful stitching.

His eyes drifted down and only then did he realise that he was completely naked. Not even a thin piece of fabric covering him, no — absolutely, fucking nothing. Bare as the day he was fucking born.

Marcus’ eyes quickly shot to yours, his heart pounding wildly, as you held a damp rag on your hand.

“What the—,” he started to complain, his throat dry and coarse.

“No need to panic. I’m just washing the blood off you,” you explained matter-of-factly, unabashed even.

“My armour, my clothes…” was the only thing he managed to mutter.

“Your armour is now clean, and your clothes are drying over there in front of the hearth. I’ve washed them for you. You’re welcome,” you replied sneeringly, rolling your eyes, as you resumed what you were doing prior to being interrupted by his questioning.

You placed the rag back down on his inner thigh and rubbed, the dried blood coming off his skin albeit with some difficulty. Too fucking close to… Fuck, I rather fucking die. He stopped your hand again, teeth gritting.

“I can do this myself,” Marcus protested.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You think I’ve not seen a naked man before? I’m a widow, Marcus. You don’t have anything I have not seen before,” and then you scrubbed his skin some more, moving upwards and stopping just inches shy of his groin.

Marcus held his breath and closed his eyes, summoning all the self-control he could muster. He really had to focus to reign the most primal reaction a man could have when a woman was touching him. He pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose, jaw clenched, as he started counting backwards from one hundred.

The General needed a distraction — if he thought about your hand so damn close to his cock, he would fucking lose it. Would throw you onto that uncomfortable mattress and would fuck some sense into you for playing with fire. Teach you a lesson or two. Maybe three.

As soon as that thought formed, he had to put it out quickly. One would think that a near-death experience would knock some sense into him, but apparently not. He was a damned man.

Your hand moved around his lap languidly, expertly avoiding his not-so-soft-now dick, and focused on rubbing some blood off his lower abdomen. Then the damp rag moved further south, and his heart climbed up to this throat.

His eyes snapped back open, looking for yours, while his fingers gripped your wrist again.

“Is there no blood anywhere else?” his voice sounded strangled, begging almost, letting go of your hand.

“Nay, I’ve already cleaned the rest of your body. I was saving the best for last, Marcus,” you whispered at the same time the rag dragged along the length of his cock.

Then the palm of your hand flattened against his impending erection, the rag forsaken on his thigh now. The little blood he had left in his veins rushed south the moment your delicate fingers wrapped around the girth of his now-throbbing cock.

You just held him there with a tight grip, eyes never leaving his in defiance. Something sinister flicked in the green of your eyes — something mischievous, lustful even, but something really dark too. Your lips were slightly parted with an intransigent smile.

“How’re you feeling? Any pain?” You dared to ask, as if you weren’t the source of his pain.

Because the only real pain he felt was all gathered on his thudding dick. Feeling his agony, you stroked him once, twice… until you were pumping him decisively, shamelessly. Your thumb caressed his glans, buttering it with his own precum.

A moan tore through Marcus’ chest, rumbling — eyes closed, letting himself rejoice in the moment. Your fingers tight around his thick shaft, putting the right amount of pressure, sent him into oblivion. His erection just became harder and harder, steely as his gladius, under your diligent care.

Marcus felt the tension building up, his balls contracting with equal parts of pain and pleasure. His erection beat rhythmically with his heart — your strokes a blessing in disguise, sent to him to release the pressure building up at the bottom of his spine. You were working him so well, so dextrously, so deliciously, he didn’t know how much longer would he last.

“I wonder if it is as tasty as it looks…” you whispered in his ear as you crouched down a little, your lips grazing his skin.

The mere image of your mouth sealed around his manhood wrecked him. So fucking much, he was close to coming just with one single fucking handjob.

And then the door swung open, making both of you jump on the spot. You quickly removed your hand from his lap and Marcus almost died at the realisation that he would not find relief tonight.

As you turned around on your seat to face the door, you threw a blanket over his lap to disguise what had really been happening.

“Naimh is back,” you exclaimed giddily to him, standing up to greet her in your language.

Fuck Naimh. Kick her out, come back.

@orcasoul @immyowndefender @sjc7542 @fairiebabey

@thepalaceofmelanie @harriedandharassed @whoaitspascal87 @mewantpeepaw

@verybigvag @jessthebaker @ivoryandflame @missadangel @pepperstories

[iheartgod175]

Some Quick Thoughts

--Sorry I've been on and off of here, everyone! Work's been crazy, and so has home life, but I'm starting to come out of the dreary tunnel now, meaning that I should be back on here a lot more often now.

--My writing motivation has been on and off for the last few weeks, mostly due to getting back to work after getting hit with the 'Rona (after my birthday, which was a double whammy). The project that I was working on before getting sick was The Zula Patrol: Dreamscape Crusade Remastered, but now it's shifted to a few other projects that I haven't worked on in years or are on hiatus. Those projects are Mirror, Mirror, and Sodor Magic Crusaders.

--I haven't really been into Thomas the Tank Engine in a hot minute, but I have kinda been into Nanoha again. And I'm about 45% through the actual sixteenth chapter, where things go wrong for multiple characters. I also had a cool idea to switch up how Emily is handled in this story, since I don't want it to be a total cut and paste from the canon events in Nanoha (the fic itself already plays fast and loose with canon as many Devices that appear later in the series appear in the first installment, Mid-Childa doesn't exist, and rather than the Jewel Seeds, we get the Book of Transformation).

I'm also doing a total readthrough of the story to get up to speed with what's going on, and the difference between my old writing style and my current writing style is like night and day, haha! I'm still planning on rewriting a few chapters to make things clearer and clean up any errors/descriptions. At least, until I decide to get the ball rolling on The REMAKE 1st. And while SRBA was unanimously the top pick for a DCR-style remaster, a few people wanted to see this project, too.

--Mirror, Mirror's fifth chapter is something I've been working on for the better part of two years. I'm raising the stakes here in this chapter! Like SMC, I'm about 40% done with this chapter; just adding a few points from ideas and brainstorms I had, and working off of that.

--Sheriff Callie's Wild West has also been tickling the brain a little. I've been trying to get to chapter 7 of You've Got My Attention for the longest, but everything I've tried has not worked. Yesterday, though, I had a little idea on what exactly happened in Callie's past that's made her so closed off on love and why what those criminals did crossed the line. I haven't even started on this chapter yet, though, so please don't rush my inbox with messages about when it'll be done!

--A huge thanks to the folks who have been reblogging my ZP stuff from last year, including all the ship art ^^ Actually, thanks to everyone who's been reblogging/liking my art. Especially the art that I did with Chuck E, because I was not expecting that kind of response. It really makes my day!

--I do have a mini art bomb coming soon. I've been drawing more and want to share what I've been working on!

--And last but not least, I will get to doing my Animation Bucket List soon, because reading through my old Netflix Bucket Lists made me realize that I missed doing 'em. And since I've seen a lot of anime since then, I really want to share what I liked, hated, and am ambivalent on.

[dr-spectre]

I watched this YouTube shorts video which has over 100k likes on it where it basically went "oh the Splatoon fandom is weirdddddd!!! It has weird porn in it guys!!! Isn't that crazy?!?! It's so toxic guys!!! They found ways to weaponise racism guys!! They are so vile about splatfests guys!!!! They are gooning to splatoon characters!!! They are kids!!"

I hate to break it to you dude but.... that's literally every fanbase in existence.

Every single fandom on planet earth has weird porn in it. Splatoon is no different. Is it fucking weird to goon over the player Inklings and Octolings as they are confirmed to be under 18? YES! VERY VERY WEIRD AND THAT BEHAVIOUR NEEDS TO GET CALLED OUT!!!!!! But a large majority of fans who engage in NSFW content are looking at the Idols and other adult characters, not the literal teenagers. Plus adult Inkling and Octoling ocs do exist, i should know BECAUSE I MADE MY OWN!!!!!

Also do not judge people's fetishes unless it's actively harming someone or it's illegal. That's wrong on so many levels. Stop making people feel guilty about what they are into man. If someone wants to make an NSFW art piece with Marie's feet then I'm not gonna judge them publicly for it. That's straight up rude and the guy in the video was basically doing that by showing some stolen fetishy art and adding an "eww" audio clip on it... Fuck off dude. Leave them alone.

He also got the release year of Splatoon wrong by saying 2013 instead of 2015.... Not the worst mistake but still... Kinda paints a picture on how much he truly cares about this franchise you know?

One of his points can be boiled down to "they are using splatfests as a way to weaponize racism." What the FUCK are you talking about? The last time i remember a Splatfest being toxic was in Splatoon 1 with CALLIE VS MARIE! THAT WAS REALLLLLLLL BAD! Other than that it's been friendly jokes and little jabs at the enemy teams. He fucking used this terrible video as a way to demonstrate his point too....

Every Splatoon fan on the planet doesn't like that video, It just comes off to me as so disingenuous.

Also fun fact! SPLATOON 1 TO 3 HAD UNDERLYING THEMES ABOUT RACISM WITH THE INKLINGS AND OCTOLINGS!!!!!! Splatoon 1 was about the introduction of that idea and it was very black and white with hints of grayness found in the sunken scrolls. Splatoon 2 was about making it more gray as Callie joined the Octarians and THE ENTIRETY OF OCTO EXPANSION!!!!!!!!!!! Splatoon 3 was the conclusion to that theme with DJ Octavio helping out the NSBS and Octolings co-existing with Inklings peacefully. But did he bring that up? NOPE!!!!!!!

Trying to paint the Splatoon fandom as some "toxic trojan horse" is just... fucking wrong. There are plenty of fandoms out there that are 100x worse than Splatoon's. The Splatoon community is extremely diverse and sure there are issues that need to fixed and yes there is racism. The Splatoon community is leagues above any other shooter game community by far. Play a bunch of quick play matches of Overwatch or TF2 to see what I'm saying. You're gonna be seeing the n word more times than a Quintin Tarantino movie.

Also he talked about peak character design in the Splatoon games, and the one character he mentioned was.... Big Man... The only male Idol and not anyone else. That just seems a bit.... suspicious to me...

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part nine

authors note: ya'll had me rolling in the comments on the last update. calling this man big dick joe. lololol. i hope this one is okay. i'm not very good at writing those scenes, but i tried!! angst is def more my bread and butter.

song inspo: "with me" by destiny's child

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: language, suggestive themes, smut

words: 8k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

“You look so damn good. If you don’t get ate out tonight, come back home early, and I’ll do the honors.”

It’s a miracle that you’re able to keep a straight face as Alexis does the finishing touches on your makeup. “Well, that’s not gonna happen, period, because this is just a date.”

Alexis pauses and gives you a look. “I know you’ve been out of the game for a while, but you do know what typically happens on dates, right?”

Rolling your eyes, you retort, “Lex, not everyone fucks on the first date.”

She sucks her teeth and swaps out the eyeliner for mascara. “Bitch, this is not a first date. He’s painted your walls too many times for you to say anything between ya’ll is a first.” 

As much as you hate it, she has somewhat of a point. You and Joe have checked so many boxes already that it does seem kinda silly to call this a first date. But, in many ways, it is. He’s never before asked you to go anywhere outside of the couple of times he invited you to his show, since you were already in town because he'd flown you out. 

But never anything beyond that. 

So, in that way, it is a first date.

And maybe that’s why you’re nervous. It’s a first too. Not a lot of things make you nervous. Even when you cheered, there was some level of anxiety before competitions, but even that was minimal compared to some of the panicked expressions you’d see on your teammates faces. When it comes to Callie, there are definitely a lot of things that make you nervous, but that’s just regular parental anxiety. 

So this butterflies shit is unfamiliar and annoying. 

It’s also just Joe. You know him, you know him better than almost anyone else in your life outside of Mariah and Callie. 

Thinking of Mariah, you grab your phone and hit the side button to see if you have any notifications. Instead, you’re just met with Callie’s smiling face.

Alexis sees this and comments casually, “still nothing?”

You don’t respond, because it’s not necessary. She already knows the answer. 

“Well, whatever she’s got going on, let her deal with it the way she wants,” Alexis advises, grabbing the powder brush to brush off some excessive powder on your cheeks. “You’ve got too many good things going on in your life for you to be stressed out over her fake ass.” 

She’s not entirely wrong. There’s definitely not a shortage of topics you still need to sort through, many of which should take precedent over you wondering what the hell is going on with your best friend since kindergarten. Still, it’s hard for you not to worry about her and feel confused about what’s shifted between the two of you.

You haven’t heard from her since you text her when Callie was in the hospital, and she replied back that she was praying for you and Callie and asked if you wanted her to come to the hospital. You thanked her but let her know that Joe was with you, so you were okay.

You haven’t heard from her since then. 

It’s not that difficult to put two and two together. There’s something about Joe that makes Mariah stay away and keep her distance. You just can’t figure out why.

“Okay, enough of your overthinking. Time to see my masterpiece.” She gloats and claps her hand, removing the towel she’d put around your chest area to prevent anything from spilling on your outfit. Alexis sighs, “you seriously look amazing, Y/N.”

Standing and stretching your back, you walk over to the full body mirror against the opposite wall of your bedroom. “Oh….”

The last time you actually dressed up was at the town’s annual Christmas party two years back. You’d always gone growing up and wanted Callie to experience it for herself, even though Callie ended up utterly disinterested, hence that being your last appearance. It was hard to justify dragging her to something she was too young to enjoy and even understand. 

So, seeing yourself done up like this is a shock. Alexis absolutely slayed your makeup, perfect wingliner and all. The white, ruched, off shoulder dress is form-fitting, hugging every curve you’ve had since a teenager that's only improved since having Callie. It’s a beautiful contrast against your melanin. You’ve always thought white on black women looked so classy. 

Your curls are styled and pinned into an almost pineapple atop your head. The jewelry is simple and basic: necklace and hoops. No bracelet considering the dress is long-sleeved.

All of this creates the absolutely stunning reflection staring back at you. It brings a smile to your face. You’d forgotten how nice it feels to actually get done up.

Alexis appears in the mirror and rests her chin on your shoulder, smiling broadly. “Told you. Boss bitch.”

Matching her smile, you turn to hug her. You really couldn’t have done this without her, even her offering to take Callie for the night as it was a nighttime date, and you doubted you’d be home before bedtime. “Thank you.” 

“You’re my best friend. You never have to thank me.” She wiggles her brow. “Just give me a rundown of the pounding that’s bound to commence tonight. A video will do as well.”

Your mouth drops open. “Alexis, you—”

“Mommy! I need you.”

You’ve never in your life felt so grateful to be needed by anyone. Maneuvering through the avalanche of clothes that make up most of your bedroom right now, the result of the two of you trying to figure out what the hell you were going to wear, you’re more than happy to saunter over to Callie’s playroom to see what she needs.

“What’s up, sis?”

You see she’s sitting at her little table, surrounded by crayons, markers, colored paper, and other art supplies. Her eyes fall on you with glee as she gasps loudly.

“Mommy, you look so pretty!”

There’s something about a heartfelt compliment from your child that provides such a level of joy.  

“Thank you, baby.” Moving closer to the table, you sit down on the chair opposite her, ignoring how goddamn uncomfortable it is. “What you got for me?”

She shuffles through a couple of pages and lifts one to show you. “Do you think Joe will like this?”

Your eyes study the colorful drawing she’s created against bright yellow—her favorite color—construction paper. It’s the average sun in the corner, green grass, and blue clouds drawing one would expect from a young child, but that’s not what immediately catches your attention. What draws your attention is the fact that there are two people she’s drawn, a heart between the two of them. 

Her and Joe.

Eyes watering, you do your best not to cry. You’re pretty sure everything on your face is waterproof, but you’re not trying to find out right now. Not when Joe should be arriving at your place any minute. “He’s gonna love it, Callie.”

Her face lights up with excitement at your approval. “Yay!” Taking it from you and tucking it underneath some other papers, she offers you another one. “I made this one too!”

You definitely can’t hold back the tears this time around. It’s the same backdrop, outside scenery but with a big house drawn behind the three of you: Callie, Joe, and yourself. With a heart over everyone’s head.

“Callie…..”

Callie, being young, sees your tears and automatically mistakens them for something else. Smile dropping and frown appearing, she moves up from the table and comes to hug you. “Don’t cry, mommy. I can make a new one!”

Wiping at your eyes, you shake your head, accepting her hug. “No, baby. Mommy’s crying because she’s happy, because she loves it.”

Instantly, her smile is back. “Really?”

“It’s beautiful. Is this one for your d—Joe too?”

Christmas can’t come soon enough, because this is at least the third time you’ve almost unintentionally given away Joe’s true identity. And that’s something you swore to him and yourself you’d allow him to reveal to Callie. It’s so hard though when moments like this occur, moments where you just want her to know the man she already loves is the same man who helped bring her into this world. 

She surprises you by shaking her head no. “I wanna put it in my room.” 

Sniffling, you nod, agreeing. “I think that’s a great idea.” 

Callie takes your hand and brings you into her room, the two of you taking a few minutes to decide where her photo should go. Eventually, she decides on right above her bed and you post it up using a thumbtack. 

Alexis walks into the bedroom to see what’s happening and gasps when she sees Callie’s drawing. “Callie, did you draw that? Sweetie, it’s so amazing!”

The compliment makes Callie smile harder as she says, “thank you!”

“We’re gonna have so much fun tonight, kiddo.”

Her eyes light up, premature excitement brewing. “Can we watch Disney movies?”

“Not only can we watch Disney movies, but we can dance and sing with Disney movies.”

Oh Lord. You have a feeling Callie won’t be in bed by 7:30pm, but it’s not worth pushing back on. You’re just grateful she’s agreed to stay around in town long enough for your date to stay with Callie. You know you could always ask your mom, but she’s already helped out so much in the past couple weeks, you figured she could use a break. 

“Yay!” 

You and Alexis work to clean up the disaster that is your room as Callie busies herself in her playroom. Nearly finished, Alexis suddenly shares, “oh, I got something for you!”

Closing up your drawer, you place your hands on your hips. “Lex, you’ve already done so much for—-” you’re silenced by the box she’s suddenly reaching your way. “---me.” A headache is coming, migraine even. “Alexis, seriously?”

“What? It’s obvious ya’ll don’t use condoms.” Moving over to the side of your bed, she slides open the drawer of your nightstand and secures the box of Plan B.

“How many times do I have to say—”

Your 937589th time defending yourself that day is interrupted by the doorbell followed by Callie excitedly yelling “Joe!”

“I’ll get it,” Alexis offers, rushing over to you to give some quick, last minute advice. “You got this okay? It’s Joe. You know him like you know the back of your hand. You’re just hanging out with a muscular, 6’3 wrestler who also happens to be your baby daddy. No pressure.”

“Lex, sometimes you really do suck.”

“No, that’s going to be you tonight.” She laughs, ducking as you toss a decorative pillow in her direction. 

Blowing through your mouth, you attempt a mini pep talk, digging deep for the shitload you had and utilized as cheer captain what feels like so long ago.

“It’s just a date. Just a date.”

That’s the mantra, the ideal that you have to live by, have to pocket and keep with you at all times. 

Just a date. 

Grabbing your purse off the dresser, you slide on your heels and head out to the living room. What you’re met with is both expected and unexpected. Joe is holding Callie who’s clearly catching him up on everything he’s missed since he was last in town, minute by minute play, of course. But, Alexis is in the kitchen surrounded by three separate bouquets of flowers, one of red roses, one yellow, and one pink. 

Joe’s gaze is on you as soon as you enter the space, but your attention is focused on the breathtaking roses. 

“Have I told you he’s my top choice for you?” Alexis asks, explaining and pointing. “The pinks are for me, yellows are for Cal Gal, and the reds are, obviously for you.” A warm smile grows on your face. He’s so damn thoughtful. 

Walking over to him, you cross your arms. “Red roses are my favorites.”

“I remember.” Of course he does. He sweeps his eyes over you, slowly, meticulously. “You look beautiful.”

Bashful would never ever be a word you’d use to describe yourself, but it’s definitely how you feel in this moment. “Thank you.”

He looks good too, but that’s not surprising. Joe always looks good, even in his otherwise basic outfit of dark jeans, long sleeved black fitted shirt, and simple gold chain around his neck. The man could wear an orange jumpsuit, and you’d still want to fuck him silly. 

“Okay, Cal Gal, we better let them get going, so you and I can head out too.”

Alexis' words catch Joe’s attention, as he asks, protectively, “where are you taking her?”

Callie answers, “Auntie Lex and I are gonna have a sleepover at the hotel!”

Joe looks at you, quizzically. “I told her they can just stay here.”

“Just in case,” she winks at Joe and reminds you, quietly. “Nightstand, babes.”

Heading out is as expected. Callie asks once again if she can come with you guys, and Joe promises that the three of you will do something together at a later time. You remind Alexis to not allow Callie to pig out on junk food and go to bed on time, or at least, a decent time. 

Not that it means much. You know she’s gonna do what she wants, because that’s who Alexis is. 

That doesn’t bother you as much as Joe not telling you shit about this date other than that you probably won’t get back until late. Which isn’t much of anything. 

“What about a—”

He glances at you only for a second, then focuses back on the road. “The answer gon’ be the same as it was the last ten times you asked.”

Glaring at him, you cross your arms. “You know I hate surprises.”

“I’m aware.”

“But, you’re surprising me anyway?”

“Sure am.” Sucking your teeth and looking out the window, you cross your arms, turning your body away from him. “Watch the attitude, sweetheart, or I’ll fix it for you at the end of the night.”

His words shouldn’t make your thighs clench together.

“Whatever.” Pulling out your phone, you start to connect it to the car’s bluetooth. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not gonna sit here in silence, but I have nothing to say to you, so we need some music.” You’re certain he’s rolling his eyes but doesn’t say anything. Hardheaded ass. He definitely does speak up though when the iconic opening guitar from Smells Like Teen Spirit fills the SUV. 

“Oh my god.”

“I don’t want to hear it. You leave me and my musical tastes alone.”

It seems like a rite of passage for every preteen or teenager to have some type of emo phase where they blast and rock out to Paramore like it’s a religious experience. Emphasis on phase. You never really grew out of yours. A love for rock music was something that stemmed from your love of paramore and morphed to the overall genre in general over the years. It was also something you and Alexis had in common, attending Warped your junior year of college. Joe always roasted you for this, because it was so unexpected.

You just liked your Breaking Benjamin just as much as you liked your Megan Thee Stallion.

“You know Callie likes it too,” you inform. One of your personal goals in life is to pass on your eclectic taste in music to your mini me. The appropriate music, of course. You never listen to anything provocative around her, even the clean versions. 

“You got her listening to this shit, too?”

Challenging him, you counter. “Would you rather her listen to Pound Town?” He shakes his head, running his hand over his beard. “That’s what I thought.”

Joe doesn��t ask you anything else, just lets you rock out to your music to help you avoid asking him the same damn question over and over again. But, you definitely do have questions that you’re absolutely asking when you see where he’s taken you. “Why the hell are we at the airport?” The bastard doesn’t say anything, and you start to repeat your question when he pulls around and you see it. 

“Joe, is that a fucking jet? You have a jet? We’re getting on a jet?” The questions keep rolling out as you find yourself unable to rip your eyes away from it. You’ve been on a plane before, but never a private jet. 

“No, we’re going to stare at it.” 

Your mind is a million and one places. Just what does this man have planned?

Jumping, you realize he’s not only parked, exited the vehicle, but is standing at your side of the car, door open. “Come on.” 

Angrily unbuckling your seatbelt, you jump out the car and continue to press him for answers. 

“Don’t get smart with me when I’m panicking. An actual jet? Where the hell are you taking us? Siberia?” He doesn’t say anything, just moves closer to you and places a hand behind your neck. 

“Do you trust me?”

You’re not sure if you’ve ever actually asked yourself that question, but interestingly enough, the answer is a no-brainer. 

“Of course.”

“Then shut up and come on.”

________

“We could have just gone to a local restaurant.”

Joe finally caved a bit and informed you that he was taking you to a restaurant out of town but within the same state. That was it. But, it was something, and it made you feel a little bit better about sitting here with him on a jet without a clue as to what’s going on.

“Why? So our waiter can be your ex-fiance?” You roll your eyes and decide against telling him the best restaurant in town is owned by your high school coach’s brother. “I’m tired of sharing you.” His strong arms are around you as he nuzzles his face into your neck. Because of course you’re sitting on his lap, the only “seat” he allowed you to use. “Want you to myself….”

Hands on his forearms, your eyes shut as you try to allow yourself to enjoy this. To enjoy him. He’s obviously gone to great lengths to make tonight special for the both of you, so the least you can do is be appreciative and try to enjoy the ride. A small smile on your lip, you taunt, “Callie might have something else to say about that.”

Just the mention of his daughter brings a smile to Joe’s face and yours too. Seeing how much he loves her gives you such peace and satisfaction. “What does she want for Christmas, by the way?”

Scoffing, you answer, smartly, “well, considering you’ve already bought her half of Toys-r-Us inventory, I’m not sure if there’s anything left for her to want.”

He’s unconvinced. “There has to be something. What did you get her?”

“Just random stuff, dolls, more art supplies.” To be honest, you’ve been so busy with everything else that much of your Christmas shopping still hasn’t happened. A rarity since you’re usually meticulous with these things, needing to know what paycheck they’re going to come out of, really. “I mean, the big thing is obviously Disney. That’s on every list: Christmas, birthday, Easter, Chinese new year.”

“Disney world?” He clarifies.

Nodding, you explain, “yup, but of course, because she’s our kid and too smart for her own good, she learned about the different parts like animal kingdom, epcot, and now she wants to see them all.” You’ll never forget the day she came running into your room, jumping on your bed, screaming, “there’s more, mommy! Lots more!”

“I’ve tried to explain I have to save for that, especially since I would want to take my mom with me, but she’s so young, she doesn’t understand it's either Disney, or we have a place to live.” Truth be told, you’ve always wanted to go to Disney too. So did your grandma. And the plan was to go for your high school graduation. Obviously….that never happened.

Your grandma passed away before you all had the chance. 

“I’ll take her. I’ll take all of you.” 

Sitting up, your brows furrow as you clarify, “shit, no. Joe, I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to ask you—”

“I know you weren’t. You’re too stubborn for that.” He’s not wrong, his finger moving up and down your side as he continues. “She wants to go. I’m sure you do too and your mom. I can make it happen, so let me make it happen.”

You hear what he’s saying, you really do, but considering you’ve sat down and cranked out the numbers for what this would cost, just for one person, it makes you almost nauseous to think how much he’d have to fork up.

Joe’s exceptionally well at reading you, speaking again. “I’m gonna say something, and I know you’re gonna push back, because like I said,  you’re stubborn as hell, but I’m gonna say it anyway because that don’t change shit.”

You eye him, skeptically. “I’m already annoyed,”

“Money is something you never have to worry about, especially if it’s for Callie.” You open your mouth to protest, but he lifts his hand to silence you. “I’ve got you, and I’ve got her. Whether you want me to or not.”

It’s such a strange shift, traveling from this mindset where you are the sole financial provider for your child to having a partner who has more money than he knows what to do with and doesn’t mind spending it to make your child happy. To make you happy. 

“Let me do something for my daughter.”

He’s got you there, even if he’s done so much already. You’ve already denied him so much more. Why add to the list? “Okay.” There’s no support for an argument. Who are you to try to get in the way of a father fulfilling his daughter’s lifelong dream? Sure, you could probably make it happen eventually, but time waits for no one. And you can’t really fault Joe. He just wants to do something nice for her daughter. “But….but not Christmas. Her birthday, maybe?”

This seems to work for him as well as he nods in agreement, probably thinking of the benefit to having more time to arrange being away from work.

Joe does an excellent job distracting you for the rest of the ride, which ends up being relatively short, definitely not as long as you expected. Granted, nothing so far has been what you expected, especially when a driver picks you up from the airport and transports you to this top secret location.

Hand in his, Joe leads you inside the building that’s revealed to be a restaurant of some sort. Gracefully decorated and almost entirely empty. 

Touched, you ask in a soft voice, “you rented out a restaurant for us?” 

He glides his thumb over your knuckles and brings your hand to his mouth, kissing it gently. “Not exactly.” 

“Joe, is that you?” 

A voice calls out, and he answers back with a yes.

Confused, you watch an older black woman with salt and pepper hair emerge from the back of the restaurant, wearing one of the friendliest smiles you’ve ever seen. You study her, wondering why she looks so familiar. 

“There you are,” she greets, clapping her hands on her apron. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

“Sorry, we’re late,” he apologies and releases your hand to bend down and hug this woman. Separating, he looks at you, introducing, “Joyce, this is Y/N.” Taking your hand again, he explains, “baby, this is—”

“Joyce Green,” you finish for him. “Oh my goodness, my mom and I watch your show.” 

Joyce and Dennis Green.

Known as the culinary king and queen throughout your state. They have a chain of restaurants that stretch over the south, a successful cookware line, and television show that’s been atop the charts for years. Arguably, the most successful, African-American couple in this part of the culinary world. 

Suddenly a bit starstruck, you offer your hand. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

She looks at you and waves off your offer. “Baby, I’m a hugger.” Laughing, you accept her warm hug as she pulls back and assesses you. “You just a pretty little thing, ain’t you?” She compliments, and you’ve never felt so validated in your life. There’s just something about compliments from older black women that heal the soul. Her eyes shift to Joe. “And you….my Lord, he took his time with this one.”

Biting your lip, you agree, “sure did.” 

Joe chuckles and says, “thank you for agreeing to this again.” 

“Of course. My grandbaby still talks about your make-a-wish visit. It’s our honor to have you here.” You say nothing but realize this is how he knows them, how he arranged for whatever this is. She claps her hands together and asks, “now what would you say is your level of experience with cooking?”

It’s directed to both of you, but you answer first, “I can cook a little bit.”

Joe looks at you, brow raised before telling Joyce. “That’s not what her mom or our daughter says.”

“Ya’ll have a baby?” Her eyes light up. “Could I see a picture? If you don’t mind, that is.” Joe shakes his head and pulls out his phone, unlocking the screen which reveals not only a picture of Callie, but you as well, the two of you smiling together. 

She gasps. “Oh, she’s beautiful.” She looks between the both of you. “Perfect combination, but she has your smile.”

“Thank you.” Anyone saying anything nice about your Callie always lands a genuine grin on your face. “It’s the dimples,” you add.

“Joyce, are you in there talking a hole in them people’s heads?” Another voice enters the room, and you see an older black man also wearing an apron around them. Dennis. This is Dennis.

Joyce sucks her teeth. “Oh hush, you old fool.” She beckons him over, and he shares a quick hug with Joe before her eyes rest on you. Joyce introduces, “this is his girlfriend. Ain’t she pretty?”

“Sure is,” Dennis agrees, shaking your hand. “Pleasure to meet you, young lady.”

Your focus is partially on the conversation at hand but also on how she introduced you. 

Girlfriend. 

You’ve never once considered yourself that to Joe, even in being with him for three years. It always felt wrong and invalid. Because of his wife.

But, she’s out of the picture now.

What reason is there for there not to be a label between the two of you?

Shaking your head, you try to return to the present. 

This is ending up being so much more than just a date.

________

“How long have ya’ll been together?” 

You’re in the midst of mincing garlic when Joyce asks her question. 

This wasn’t just a dinner date. It was a private cooking lesson with thee Joyce and Dennis Green. Not many things made you giddy, but this was definitely one of them. 

Thinking on her question, you realize it’s something you’ve never thought about and thus have no idea how to answer. Because just how does one quantify your relationship? Can you even count the three years you were actually together when he was legally married to someone else? 

Joe, conversely, has no difficulty answering.

“Almost eight years.”

Joyce glances at your left hand. “How much time you need to make up your mind, young man?”

“Oh, Joyce, leave them kids alone,” Dennis chides, carefully chopping up the onions. “Let em’ do what they want.”

“I’m just saying, you already have a child together,” she continues, asking, “What’s stopping you from taking the next step?”

“Uhhh, we, we’ve had some ups and downs,” you answer, hoping the change in tone will indicate this is a sensitive subject.

“I see, well….” You can tell she’s trying to carefully choose her words, and you’re grateful for that thoughtfulness and respect. “All things considered, you seem to have found your way back to one another, so that has to mean something.”

Her words resonate deeply. She’s right. Yes, obviously Callie will always bound you to Joe in some sort of capacity, but countless people co–parent without being together. However, that doesn't seem to be the case with the two of you, something tethers you together. 

And it’s not just the child you share together.

The four of you work together to prepare your meal with Joyce and Dennis having to be extra patient with you, because Joe of all trades over there excels without the need of much help. It’s annoying how he’s just naturally good at so many things. 

At one point, Joyce gently whispers to you, “some people just don’t got it, baby, and you don’t. That’s okay.”

Of course, Joe hears this, and you have to stop yourself from flipping him off. Instead, you settle for mouthing asshole.

The entire process takes about an hour, and when the meals are finished, you’re surprised to find that Joyce and Dennis move to a separate room to eat. It’s not something that entirely bothers you though. You enjoy your alone time with Joe. And it allows you the space to briefly FaceTime Callie in the middle of your meal to tell her goodnight, an absolute must. 

Not even just for you anymore, but Joe too. 

She has to see and speak to the both of you before she can fall asleep.

You can’t wait for her to find out the truth. 

Stealing off Joe’s plate, you quickly realize that while your food came out fine, his is delicious. It’s why you decide to seat yourself on his lap instead of your chair so you’re not constantly reaching over the table. 

“You done messed up your food, and now you wanna come after mine?” Ignoring him, you bring a forkful to your mouth, moaning instantly. 

Covering your mouth as you finish chewing, you exclaim, “it’s so good.”

He chuckles, hand on the small of your back. “I see I’m the one who’s gonna have to do the cooking for us.”

“Well, according to you and everyone else, I can’t cook, so—”

“You can’t, but that’s okay. I hoped this would help, but you may be beyond help—” He laughs as you shove on his chest.

“You’re such an ass….” Gaze softening, you bring your hand to his face, gripping his beard. “Thank you for this. It’s incredibly sweet.”

And you mean that. Joe didn’t have to do this, didn’t have to do any of it. But, this is just who he is, a kind, sweet, thoughtful man. It’s what makes him such an amazing father. 

An amazing partner.

He kisses your palm. “You’re welcome….”

Once the food is finished, you two spend the rest of the time just talking, laughing, enjoying each other. You could never get tired of being around this man. His energy is so warm and welcoming. You’re starting to relate more and more with Callie’s difficulty every time he leaves. This night is too short, but you wonder if you could ever have enough time to be with him.

As the night draws to a close, you two reunite with Joyce and Dennis to thank them for a wonderful evening. However, it’s the closing remarks that really sit with you. When Dennis pulls back from his hug, he whispers to you, “young lady, I’ve lived a long life, so trust me when I tell you this.” You watch him, listening intently. “A man doesn’t look at a woman the way Joe looks at you unless he’s in love.” 

Your breath catches in the back of your throat. That’s….definitely not what you expected him to say. And Joyce is no different. She holds onto you a little longer in the hug, and you’re grateful. She reminds you so much of your grandmother. 

“A little piece of advice from an old lady?” It’s almost impossible to prepare for whatever is about to leave her mouth, your mind still trying to sit on Dennis' words. “You don’t lose love by sending it away” A beat. “All you’re doing is making it grow stronger.” 

________

The rides home are more quiet than the journey there, and that’s because you’re trying to balance this heavy battle between your head and your heart. 

Your mind is all over the place. You’ve felt so conflicted since opening the door for Joe for the first time in almost five years. And you don’t regret it, far from it. Callie’s father is in her life. She has that relationship, that love with him. 

That’s all you wanted, all you expected. 

You didn’t expect for your feelings for him to resurface or his for you to be as strong as they clearly are. 

It’s such a suffocating, overwhelming experience. 

And at the same time, everything you’ve ever wanted. 

He is everything you’ve ever wanted. 

Walking into your apartment, Joe locks the door behind the two of you, always wanting to make sure you’re straight before he leaves. As he always does. 

He brings his hands to your face, concerned, asking, “what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Your eyes close, hand to his chest. 

This is too hard, too painful, too difficult. 

You can’t do it anymore.

“Fuck it.”

In a matter of seconds, your lips are on his and his hands are all over your body. It’s explosive, the both of you battling for dominance, Joe’s tongue circling around yours. You moan into his mouth, and he hikes you up on his waist. 

"Are you sure?" He breathes against your mouth and you nod fervently.

Come what may, you'll deal with it then. You need this. Need him

Gaining your consent, he skillfully guides you to your bedroom only breaking the kiss when he places you on the floor in front of the bed. “Take off your clothes.” 

His tone is authoritative, demanding, but even if it wasn't, it's not like he needs to ask twice. You squeeze yourself out of your dress, tossing it to the side. As the top was padded and shoulders out, you didn't bother with a bra. And before you can hook your fingers around your underwear to discard them, Joe tosses you on the bed, hovering over you.

He lifts his shirt over his head, and you chew on your bottom lip. This man is too fine. His strength has always been so sexy to you. As a woman on the thicker side, you’ve always needed a man who could handle you in the sheets. And Joe was more than adept in that area. 

He stares at you like you're the most precious thing he's ever had the privilege to lay his eyes on. Your stomach flutters. No ones ever been able to make you feel things like Joe can.

Its such a welcomed experience, one you've missed deeply.

“God, you’re beautiful….” 

His big hands travel your body, but it’s when he bites down on the strap of your panties and glides them down your legs that your back arches off the bed. You're already so wet, dampness coating the inside of your thighs.

You need this man more than one needs air to breathe.

“Patience, baby.” His voice is soothing on a surface level but does little to abate the fire burning through your entire body, the throbbing in your center. “Don’t I always take care of you?” When you don’t give him an answer, too busy trying to settle yourself, his hand grips your thigh. Tight. “I asked you a question.”

Swallowing, you nod, answering, “y-yes, you do.” 

Pleased with your obedience, he goes to remove his pants, and your eyes go straight to his massive bulge. You wet your lips. The moonlight shining through the window creates a backdrop of his broad shoulders, silk hair down and free. Just how you like it. 

He’s so beautiful and yours. 

Only yours.

Your hand reaches for his abs, wanting to touch him, when he captures your wrist, bringing your fingers to his mouth, sucking slowly, teasingly. 

Groaning, your head tilted back, another spasm works its way through your core. You need this man, and you need him now.

Joe detects as such and hovers over you, one rough hand grasping your breast as he glosses his lips over your clavicle. Moaning, you lift your thigh against his hip, wanting, needing some type of friction. 

He begins lining kisses down your body, lips leaving a flaming trail of desire in its wake. “Spread your legs for me, baby. And keep 'em open.” He doesn’t have to ask twice. You heed to his command, opening yourself to him. He kisses the inside of your thighs, eyes alight with desire. “Before you come on my dick, gotta taste this pretty pussy.” 

Joe makes a sound, taking his finger and swirling it around your pussy. A sticky line of your cum drips from his fingers, and you nearly come right then and there watching him suck it off. 

“Fuck,” he groans, bringing both of your legs over his shoulders, hooking them behind your knees. “Forgot how sweet you are.”

His cool breath hitting your core is the first thing you feel followed by that deliciously talented tongue taking one long swipe up your cunt. Instantly, your back is arching off the bed. That’s how sensitive you are to him, how easily your entire existence becomes focused solely on him and the insane pleasure he provides you.

The tip of Joe’s tongue swirls around your swollen, sensitive bud as he uses his other two fingers to keep your folds open, available to and for him to do whatever he wants. He plays with you, a tactic you’ve noticed he gets off on, edging you in a sense.

“Stop playing with me,” you groan, even if this feels just as good as anything else. It’s not what you want, what you need. What you need is his mouth on you, not this toying shit.

Sucking his teeth, he blows on your clit, and you hiss. “You really gon tell me how to take care of my pussy?” There’s a trace of humor in his voice as he dips one finger inside of you, smiling at the way you grip at the sheets. “Naw, baby. I know what you need.” 

And that’s when he finally does away with the teasing, locking your legs on his shoulders with his hand and buries his face into your pussy. “Shit!” It’s what you wanted, most definitely what you needed, but not what you expected. 

Fuck. He’s too good at this. 

Joe alternates with expert strokes, sucking and flicking your pussy, with a yearning and longing that’s matched only by the rapture soaring through your body. 

He eats your pussy like he does all things in life, with passion and dedication.

“Joe.” Tears burn your eyes as he continues to eat at you, rarely breaking for air and never allowing your body time to recover. He’s back to back, bringing you to climax and going right back to eating you out.

You’d forgotten how much he loved this. It’s nearly impossible to recall how many times this man has had his face in between your legs, but you could most definitely count how many times he’d let you return the favor. Joe didn’t care much about receiving. He was a pleaser, through and through.

“Baby, please, I can’t—I—-“ and it’s a waste of time because every inch up the bed is met with his strong hands on your hips, tugging you closer. Even as you cum, hard, nearly convulsing off the mattress, he stays sucking your pussy, lapping every bit of it up as his tongue circles your sensitive bud.

You’re not sure when he finally comes up, just that it’s after at least two orgasms. Maybe three. Keeping count with Joe is always a waste of time, because it’s always going to be several.  Panting, eyes fluttering, you take in the sight of him. His beard is wet, glistening with the result of his expert work. “I love eating this pussy.” His finger swirls and plays around with the absolute drenched mess you’ve made. “but I need you to come on my dick now.”

There’s a bit of dissociation in the next few minutes. He’s tongue fucked all of your five senses out of you that it’s only when you realize he’s got you on your hands and knees, dick teasing your soaked entrance that you're aware of what's about to happen. 

“Wait.” Your breath is haggard, voice drained from only this man’s tongue. This. This is the shit he does to you. This is why it took so long for you to let him go all those years ago. It’s the same reason you don’t think you’ll ever be able to let him go. Not after this. “I need—you gotta let me adjust, Joe.”

Joe’s dick is thick, long, and curved. The best you’ve ever had, but it’s been years since you last had him, so he has to take it easy on you, allow you time to accommodate him.

“You can take this dick, baby,” he encourages, pushing down on the top of your back until your cheek is pressed into the pillow, back arched perfectly. “And you always will.”

His tip nudges your sticky, gushy opening, starting a slow entrance that has your hands fisting. Inch by inch, he enters you, jaw clenching at how tightly your cunt clenches him. 

It’s been too long since he’s been inside you.  

“Oh my god.” You’d forgotten this, forgotten the delicious stretch of him inside of you, forgotten how deep he could go, touching you, reaching you in all the areas no one else could. And you had tried. God, you tried. Had your hookups, but no one was checking Joe’s box when it came to length, girth, and skill. And that tongue. Fuck, Joe ate your pussy like you were his last supper every single time.

Never a miss.

He doesn’t need to ask if you’re good. Joe sees the way you back your ass onto him, eager for him to fuck you like only he knows how to.

And he obliges. 

He slams into you with a force that has you wanting to scream out bloody murder. He feels so damn good inside of you. He stretches you so good, and you take him just as well.

“You on the pill?” He suddenly asks, slowing the speed and force of his thrusts, watching and enjoying your moans as he cruelly teases you, halting at your entrance before gradually re-entering. He’s playing with you, and it’s both blissful and miserable. 

Whining, you manage to answer, “fuck—n—no.”

“Good.” You shout when he slams back into you with such force that you reach for the headboard, needing something to keep you leveled. “Gonna fill you up with my cum.”

“Joe….” His words register, but it’s hard to think straight with this man fucking you so good. Shit, you missed this. “We—” You’re cut off again when he reaches in front of you, hand ghosting over your pussy, index finger circling your clit. “We ca—”

“I’m not pulling out.” He groans above you, the way your shit grips him. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“You’re just big,” you counter and cry out when he slides out of you and slams at a different angle that has your big breast slapping against your chest. “Shit, Joe.”

“Can he fuck you how I can?” For a second, you’re confused cause who the fuck is he talking about? There’s only one person that exists in your world right now, and that’s the man blowing your back out. “Answer me,” he demands, bringing a hand down on your ass. 

You cry out, “no, baby.” Your eyes water. He’s so deep in you. “N–no one fucks me like you do.” 

“Exactly,” he continues to play with your clit as you work hard not to let your entire apartment building know you’re getting your entire insides rearranged. “Your moans are for me,” he slows down momentarily, no doubt enjoying the view of his thick dick sliding in and out of you, coated in your cream. “You scream out my name.” 

“Yes, baby,” you whimper. You and Joe have fucked plenty of times, but this is different. There’s a meaning in every word that leaves his mouth, an oath behind every declaration. You know that after tonight, there is no turning back. 

“You’re mine,” he growls, big hands moving to the small of your back, holding you down and against the bed as he rams into you, determined and focused. “You’ve always been mine.”

Tears burn your eyes when he suddenly yanks you up by your hair, pulling your body flush against his. His hair fans part of your face, mouth pressed against your temple. “I can take care of you. Take care of this pussy. You don’t need nobody but me.”

Reaching your hand behind to caress his scalp, you murmur, head laid back against him. “I don’t want anybody but you.”

There’s something about your words, so vulnerable, so sincere. With a gentleness that’s contrasted all of his fucking thus far, he pulls out of you and lays you on your back. A whimper leaves your mouth at the loss of him inside of you only for him to move his body over yours and lift your legs to his waist. He sinks into you again, and you moan together, his head resting in the crook of your neck as he finds a pace that pleases the both of you.

Ankles locking above his ass, you enjoy the different kind of depth this allows. People shit on missionary, but it’s one of your favorite positions with Joe. It’s a level of connectedness and togetherness that makes you feel so close to him. Like you two are one and the same. 

“You're so good for me,” he continues to talk you through it, tears streaming down your face as he repeatedly thrusts against your g-spot. “So fucking good around me, fucking made for me.”

His words send you over the edge.

Hands on his face, forcing him to meet your gaze, you encourage, gently, “come with me.” He looks at you, and you know. You just know that there's not much, if anything, you could ask that he wouldn't do for you.

His thrusts become more uncontrolled, erratic, and that’s how you know it’s coming, building up until there’s a blinding white light behind your eyes, toes curling and head rocking back against the pillow. Joe is not far behind, staying true to his promise as he empties inside of you every bit of his cum until there’s nothing left.

Joe doesn’t move from off you, doesn’t remove himself from inside of you, instead his body rests on top of yours. Panting, you bring your hands to his scalp, nails gently raking through his hair as he lays against your chest, muttering, “let me stay like this in you for a little bit.”

You don’t want him to move anyway, don’t want him to go anywhere. You never did, just followed what you felt and believed was right. Joyce’s wise words from earlier suddenly return to the forefront of your mind. 

“You don’t lose love by sending it away. All you're doing is making it grow stronger.” 

That’s never felt and rang more true than in this moment.

[violetmuses]

Not Without You - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Title: Not Without You - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Fandom: Bad Boys Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: You help Armando identify James McGrath. @nelo0wesker

====

2024

“Got a package deal or something?” Detective Mike Lowrey questioned his estranged son Armando Aretas when you joined Dorn's boathouse.

“We trained together.” Aretas clipped his own words. “Let us both help, or I'm backing out.”

“Damn.” Mike shook his head while glancing between you and Armando. “All right, but if she's cold here, I'll know.”

Reviewing various files, you corner some part of the living room and start working.

“Hey! Uh-uh.” Mike noticed when Armando sat beside you and nearly placed his head on your shoulder, still looking through printouts.

“So you left out the relationship part, too?” Mike stepped toward Armando, pissed off.

“None of your business.” Aretas defended his bond with you.

AMMO weapons expert Kelly and tech genius Dorn, now dating, shrugged though.

“D, plug this one.” You lifted one flash drive and ignored the drama.

Dorn took the flash drive with speed, revealing this grayscale picture.

“Oh, shit! We got 'em.” You say, grounded by reality.

“Told you…” Armando stepped away from Mike and pointed to the large screen. “That's who ordered the hit on Captain.”

“James McGrath: Former Army Ranger turned DEA agent. Tortured before joining the cartel himself.” Dorn offered main highlights.

“It's a wrap. Let's reconvene tomorrow and get this fool. Trust no one.” Mike took charge with the next plan and finally prompted everyone to rest.

______

“Can't sleep. C'mere.” Armando shared the living room sofa-bed with you.

“Will you tell Mike the truth?” You've laid on your back while covers veiled Armando's waist.

“Not until we get James.” Armando referenced McGrath. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You promise, watching Armando finally take peace in your embrace.

*****

“Hello, Beautiful. Didn't think I'd actually see you again.” Despite giving all the hard work to keep Christine and Callie safe, you stand on this plotted beach, facing the barrel of McGrath’s gun.

“Close your eyes, Callie…” You lifted both hands while dressed in the tactical uniform.

“No, please don't do this! Armando saved me with her.” Callie shouted over your defense, terrified.

“I'll take the bullet, move!” Even Armando snapped, but Marcus quickly grounded footsteps.

“Let me go, baby….” You don't fight this truth anymore and have prepared your entire life for the one moment. “It's the only way.”

“No!” Armando yelled in the distance and you waited for McGrath to pull his lethal trigger.

Just when you mingled with death, gunshots fired elsewhere and James McGrath fell backwards near the ocean.

Detective Mike Lowrey just spared your life.

====

2025

“Armando, where you at, man?” At home, Detective Mike Lowrey looked for his son one afternoon. Timing offered Aretas this safe return to Miami, Florida.

“Shit!” Knocking echoed from outside the bedroom and you scrambled with clothes, knowing that Aretas set his lips between your thighs.

“We gotta go.” You playfully swatted near Armando and left, heading to the family cookout.

You survived, no matter what.

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2024-09-14

(Previous post - current page 666)

Section 4 (now 5 since they added an hourglass to replay the intro, gee that's not symbolic of the time being spent here) of page 666 is now upd8'd, let's dive in! I had a busy weekend and visited a relative's place for a party I didn't know had cats for hours (super double allergic) that will probably knock me the fuck out for a day or two starting tomorrow so I'd better finish this post tonight before that happens!

Another aside before we begin, I haven't looked at much of the commentary stuff but on twitter I saw this particular bit from the past art commentary on the main account:

"...but I think it made a lot of sense to us that a character tucked away in the Candy timeline (even guided by mysterious visions and borrowed intuitions [borrowed from whom, I wonder...?]) wouldn't necessarily be able to wrap their head around the pure, potent purpose of The Plot Point[...]"

I thought this may have meant something even more significant when I was skimming and glanced at it, but it seems pretty clear to me now that I'm actually paying attention and not at all surprising, in line with our existing guesses but still important. To quote the page in question they're referencing, its dialoguelog:

CALLIOPE: yoU remember how we got so wrapped Up in the initial excitement of finding the singUlarity and the rUined jUjU arch, and sUbseqUently stabilizing it with oUr sUper cool cherUbic-lalondian tech... ROXY: its true our tech really is so fkn cool... CALLIOPE: and then, well... it felt like we were on sUch a roll when we came to the conclUsion that we needed to leverage vriska's hyperrelevance to scUrry oUt of here... ROXY: we did have a whole bunch of high fives about that... CALLIOPE: it was an exhilarating breakthroUgh! CALLIOPE: and an eqUally exhilarating high-five session! CALLIOPE: bUt then the conflict began to ramp Up, and yoUr son got into all those shenanigans, and i wanted yoU to feel like i had everything Under control down here so yoU could attend to it! CALLIOPE: and all that notwithstanding, we really DID need to hUrry Up and do SOMETHING. CALLIOPE: i worried that perhaps yoU'd be a bit relUctant to pUll the trigger on this if it felt like all the details weren't lined Up. CALLIOPE: and so i... CALLIOPE: well, i sUppose i might have implied a more complete knowledge of the a to zed of all this then i actUally... possessed. CALLIOPE: and continUe to possess.

In other words, Calliope and Roxy came to some startling breakthroughs and were guided to this course of action -- as if by a muse! -- through ideas that came together as if it hadn't quite been THEIR OWN plan all along. They were... inspired. And Callie and Roxy over in the CANON timeline were working on a plan for victory apart from alt!Callie which was cut off and unsaid, and we already had reason to believe that the entire SHAPE of the events of Candy had been essentially "written" as fanfiction by canon Calliope all over her as-of-yet unseen walls. Meaning that even though alt!Calliope doesn't act very happy about this plan of theirs, it was never HER plan-- it was a plan that spanned two different instances of Calliope and Roxy, across space and time and the canon barrier, possibly even across their shared Hearts, their not-yet-accessed Ultimate Selves which connect all instances of Roxy with Roxy and all instances of Calliope with Calliope. Their use of the plot point falls in line with Calliope and Roxy's plan across both stories... quite likely the most important plan at all, especially when alt!Callie keeps wanting to discount it. A plan where Roxy looks at the tumor-like growth of the House representing the shape of Homestuck and doesn't consider it too messy to be worth keeping around or in need of a total pruning/reset. A plan where everything they experienced in both places has value.

Alright, on to the update! Ooh, the others are numbered and this is labelled with chapter numbers 1 thru 4 but this one is "Chapter X", wonder if that's meaningful or a typo since we're getting some kind of Davepetasprite interlude. Honestly, I think a large part of what Vriska has been experiencing, this therapy, has been guided not just by Light or by Davepeta and the other squareds and the ghosts trapped here, but also by Vriska's Ultimate Soul/Self, ie the broader Heart of Vriska which has spanned all Vriskas and perhaps has the ability and knowledge to learn all her best lessons, instead of falling into Ultimate Dirk's trap of self as would normally seem most likely for Vriska. Let me just stop listening to the Murder Drones OST and get on with liveblogging, don't listen to the OST yourself it's too easy to spoil yourself seriously just watch the series from ep 1 (try even ONE MINUTE OR TWO of it) and know it gets increasingly better per episode. (Ahem... Shilling my interests aside...) *Clicking.*

Oh, no wonder it's "Chapter X", huh. so 5 is going to be the last? Or 6(66)?

Holy shit, that's some trepidation in their cool enby ass's expression. Is Davepeta embarrassed to be talking to Erisolsprite? I mean I don't know any other sprite squareds who could be here except... oh no, she couldn't be here, could she?? Not Jasprose?!

Some Dave-like riffing about the ringtone (which might be a meta joke about the new banging little ditty in the background music they used so the music wouldn't be the same), let's see...

Yeah it's Erisolsprite^2.

ERISOLSPRITE: dude.

hahahaha gosh talk about someone both sides of you have every reason to be sort of annoyed with but there's few others to talk to. Also technically, if Sprite^2s get a folding-in of all their other selves like an Ultimate Self as was implied repeatedly, this Erisolsprite includes all the Eridans who DIDN'T go on a genocidal rampage nad did better, and Solluxes who DIDN'T keep the same counterproductive outlook despite some crucial awesome actions, so perhaps he's not so ba- (EDIT FROM A FEW PARAGRAPHS DOWN: never mind I forgot it was one sprite prototyped by two corpses, there's no squared next to his name, he's not a squared sprite at all so not ultimate and very instanced, my misconceptions continue for a few sentences--) oh pff they're pinging him on his phone despite them being right next to them, I get it. XD

Oh, Erisol was calling THEM and THEY were hesitant to PICK UP the phone. Which he was calling despite being right next to them.

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < hahaha yeah i will, sorry man

Aww, gosh you're cool.

SDFJKLHLSDJKF

OH MY GOD I WAS WRONG I WAS RIGHT EARLIER OMFG THERE AREN'T EVEN TWO OF THEM THIS IS THE SAME ONE WHO IS OVER HELPING MEAT/CANON JANE PROBABLY LOSE THE ELECTION TO A TROLL RESIDENT OF HER WORLD AND REALIZE SHE HAS A RESPONSIBILITY TO CEDE CONTROL OF THEIR CREATION TO ITS INHABITANTS AAAAAAAAAA did that bonus material continue when HS2 resumed i havent even CHECKED since ages ago!?!?? don't answer that i don't even remember if iw as fully caught up on it ill browse thru the material and figure it out without spioling myself lather dsfjlk can't type JASPROSE IS HERE (ON THE PHONE (FROM A DIFFERENT PLANE)) AAAAAA

Dammit, you ascended ultimate Seer of Light plus cat, yes Davepeta WAS doing that thing where they started roleplaying outloud to themselves instead of picking up. Rose has always had uncanny guesses as to how someone was answering or avoiding answering her all throughout Homestuck from Act 1 onwards, and it was always a Seer of Light thing. Jasprose is obviously even better at it and also YEAH THESE TWO HAVE SOME BAGGAGE MAYBE between them even as ultimate selves!! No wonder Davepeta gets nervous about starting a conversation with her. Wait. Waitwaitwait.

Rose was a WANNABE PSYCHOTHERAPIST.

An Ultimate Rose instance like Jasprose might be a REAL PSYCHOTHERAPIST DOING EFFECTIVE THERAPY from parts of Rose within her who followed the non-amateur path due to her interests, and helping guide this entire Plot Point hyperbolic therapy chamber that seems so conveniently super on point for what Vriska psychologically needs!!!!!

...Davepeta did you just do a "nipah" is that a weeaboo thing

my google searching comes up with nothing but a zoonotic virus for the word, someone context me plz (EDIT: Good context has been provided here! That's a damned good point with the ultimate selves playing chess outside of canon with the inside of canon, that's very Umineko from what I've seen of it.)

Oh my god I still love her so fucking much. (Also I was right that this is "canon" Jasprose, in the bonus material, and her using the dubious canonicity of the setting she's ginned up for Jane and crew is awesome for an excuse to let her reach here, that's superb.)

Reading more into that line, The Plot Point's "hyperconcentrated essentiality field"... that sure sounds like Light, like a concentration of Light that simply cannot escape from its black hole container? *click...*

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i hate that i understand what youre saying when you speak like this

LOL

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Isn't it delightful?

SHE'S HAVING A BLAST I LOVE HER LOOK AT HER LAUGH SPRITE I'M NOT SCREENSHOTTING

okay Davepeta has shortened it to The Point (again)

JASPROSESPRITE^2: How delightfully quirky! Let's get to ours, shall we?

JASPROSE LOOKS SO COY BUT I'M TOO EXHAUSTED TO SCREENSHOT HOW MUCH I LOVE HER

She's been having an incredible time? Theraputically scenario-driving Jane and crew, or helping here from the background?

EMBRACE the ship of the Dad Crocker and whichever midnight crew carapace he was working with i forget exactly if it was Slick or DD was it Slick? ship. EMBRACE THE SHIP and the silliness of them tracking after you-- wait wasn't there some hubbub they'd caused the main Jane crew after we last left off that bonus before the HS2 gigapause / team change? Fuck I forget. I'll refresh myself on all this some other time, I promise, I'm regaining my health and energy and there's tons of other stuff (including rereading my own liveblog of the bonus material before catching up on it) I have to get to if I don't want to lose track of whatever the fuck I might have thought was going on before seeing if there's more I missed.

They've been on your tails, I see what you did there.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Eugh!

I've personally never met a lesbian that was too lesbian to appreciate a proper m/m relationship for solidarity's sake, but Jasprose IS sort of a self-loving lesbian singularity.

JASPROSESPRITE^2: But hey! Downing cold drinks and dodging hot lead, Midnight City certainly doesn't disappoint!

You're god damned right.

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < jasprose... youve been drinking?

Oh nooooo. DD: Davepeta's worry hurts my soul, she had better respond she is functionally immune to alcoholism in this form or some shit

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Please. JASPROSESPRITE^2: You know it's only milk bars for me.

HAHAHAA DAMMIT

It took way too long to realize she wasn't talking about Mom Lalonde's martinis and was instead amusing herself by talking about COW MILK in the most disturbing way possible and also the way Jaspers would

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Speaking of, I've made fantastic progress with the enchanting, yet problematic Ms. Crocker.

(Oh you incorrigible flirt.) I wonder if we're about to get a summary-form hint of the most important bonus content's drive to conclusion if the team isn't planning on continuing it separately themselves, so we get to hear the major twist and results (that those of us who caught onto the direction) may have already deduced will happen from there (that one side troll running against Jane or convincing her to drop out and winning the election for Earth C president instead of Jane)?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < "enchanting yet prowlblematic" DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < thats gotta be your favorite combination JASPROSESPRITE^2: Guilty as charged!

i love them, them Davepeta and them plural both sprites

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Sigh, it's almost a shame I'll have to pass her off soon!

Yes, it DOES seem we're getting hints to how that'll turn out, regardless if we ever see it live or not. But that's to be expected from a Seer of Light. I wonder if Jane and Jake ever had hope of a healthy relationship, or if there's some new pairing to be had that I've forgotten we were potentially driving towards?

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Her politics are still a little eye-brow raising, but they won't raise any torches and pitchforks yet.

Wait, I'd assumed that previous line of hers was talking about her relationship status, not the scenario itself. Either way, I've already covered in past bonus material liveblogging that Jasprose's efforts will ultimately correct Jane, regardless of her current (less Candy) political position (for the near future anyway), to be stood the fuck aside as Earth C wins dominion over itself and the Gods understand they don't run the place, just as Yiffy recently covered should have been the fucking case. I believe in Jasprose AND in Jane Crocker, they have this covered together. Jake specifically alluded very recently in Candy to himself that there exists a world where Jane wouldn't have turned out the way she did in Candy at all, and that that'll have to be enough for him, something only a Hope player very VERY committed to possibility and his aspect could use to justify his move forward away from and against her.

Ooh, now Jasprose is talking about developments regarding her timeline's Jake English and his "broken-hearted malaise" he's locked into, she's definitely trying to save him, too.

Yep, she's pointing the bat to the fences like Babe Ruth and saying we'll SEE Jake on the path to a fulfilling life before curtains are called on the story on the Canon side, and I certainly hope that's the case.

Pff, meta commentary on "how many w33ks of developments has this b33n" because those bonus materials were staaaalled. If Jasprose has half their temporal meta-awareness, their response will be...

JASPROSESPRITE^2: Oh Davepeta, we've only been out on the town for a single, sensual, enlightening night!

Impossible to tell whether she's aware of the metatemporal aspect she's utterly dunking on with this in-canon temporal truth, whether she's ignorant of it or dunking intentionally on the difference. XD

Ooh, the other Ultimate Seer of Light of the Meat timeline is disconnected enough from her other robotic self's Dirk-brainwashing and obsession with canon to tell how key what is being done in the Hyperbolic Therapy Chamber is for both timelines combined, however the fuck that's going to play out. *clicks*

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < well i mean DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < its going

GAHAHAH is she actually genuinely shocked that Vriska is making psychological progress?!?!? Because from a psychologist-like perspective YEAH THAT'S SUPER SHOCKING, but from a Seer of Light perspective i can't help but think she's playing it up for the lol(cat)s

"That bad?" Oh dear, yeah okay maybe she's expecting it wouldn't have taken... quite as long... but she might believe in her fellow Light player a little more than deserved, given her taste for the "enchanting yet problematic". Vriska NEEDED this much time to iron herself out, there wasn't any real option than this much ironing in the fire to work out anything close to the lifetime's worth of trauma she'd gone through. (Also punways and conceptually, VRISKA being the iron in the fire (of hell) is hilarious.)

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < JR were fucked

(translation: JaspRose, we're fucked)

I wonder if Vriska really is going to finish her therapy while in here or if she has to 8r8k break out before she's come to a satisfied conclusion after that last bit of trauma beyond overcoming enough to START moving on. Actually, you know, that might just be for the best. Allow her to get her final resolutions through the end of the plot even moreso than already planned, rather than finishing all of her necessary therapy from WITHIN the plot point.

Or maybe they, or we, just need to clap their hands and believe in Pupa Pan's fairy just that little tiny bit harder.

Pff, you tell 'em. (But, is your time REALLY so unlimited? And if it isn't, wouldn't you know? Also, nice hyperbolic time chamber reference yet again, since the first ones all the way back in Homestuck original, and considering we're literally in one.)

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < but god daaaaaaaamn its 8 steps forward 7 leaps back every session

ahahahahah therapy. ahh therapy. therapy. :T look everyone should go to therapy i know it's frustrating but THERAPY HELPS when the therapist is good and you should shop around for a therapist you really feel gets and believes in y-- okay i'm too tired to get into THAT spiel moving on. I need to pick up the pace and keep reading so i can get this fucking DONE tonight and not do every quote in full detail

"this therapist shit is not easy" yeah you got that right

pffdsh NO DON'T GO FREUD WITH SMASHING 8-BALLS

wait she's smashing 8-balls now? again? more? I think she's finally perhaps meant to get the lesson those smashings are meant to represent, from the original comic run, if that last icon in the scenario is any indication... Kanaya's simple lesson that if she cleaned up her room, she wouldn't step on so many d8's and consider her luck so "bad" as the cause...

pff Davepeta can't map freudian parentage onto trolls lol

"youd probably be way better at this than me" well that confirms they're TRYING and perhaps being somewhat coy about not playing the therapist-- no they were never coy about that, Davepeta just said he had no idea how to do it which was true, so... who's guiding the scenario, like I asked before? From whence the self-confrontations, but the self?

"I would, yes." Are you still an untrained amateur though, even though you're a Seer of Light and suited to guide people onto the best path for themselves if you do your best anyway?

"im in hell and you dont even care" lolol its funny cause you should understand cats Davepeta

"it turns out hell is trying to get vriska serket to change her mind" LOLOLOL

NICE pun there because she is also literally trying to change her mind

Ooh Jasprose doesn't even know how long it's been. Davepeta says it's been an hour outside... and in "Centralized Point Time (CPT)" NO DAVE FUCKING STOP THAT'S A BAD RACIST JOKE YOU ASSHOLE YES I'M BLAMING THE DAVE SIDE OF YOU FOR THAT YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND COASTING ON GOOD KARMA TO MAKE IT SOUND LIKE YOU WERE BEING IRONICALLY PSEUDORACIST THAT DOESN'T WORK PEOPLE HAVE TRIED IT

(I wonder if that was a genuine white-person accident and they'll re-edit and change that joke but i doubt it somehow, the accident part not the changing it part, though to be fair I don't even think they fixed the Jaspers funeral time discrepancy in early early HS2 i pointed out, i'd have to go back and look)

--(ahem, nvm that) oh god one hour to four years yeah that's a fucking time translation. I was wondering just how long things would have been progressing on the outside, I knew it would hopefully be quick from the others' perspective but... Yeah seeing the ratio is always stark.

Whoa, Jasprose is shocked/surprised?! (I guess the Point IS ensconced in void...) And yeah most would be shocked to hear.

"What have you even been doing there for 4 years?"

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < chilling

ahh, never change, the rest of Davepeta.

"That's all you've been doing? Chilling?" "p much" Yeah never change.

"Fucking incredible." AHAAHA JASPROSE GETS IT, I'd fistbunp her!

"I suppose it'd be in line with her particular brand to extend her stay another 4 years." Oh dear don't even 8-joke about that jasprose

"god can you imagine" okay PHEW looks like davepeta is laughing and understands it wont work out THAT badly

... the background went empty........ is this a unique dramatic pause for Davepeta to come back and say "oh fuck it probably will", or the end of the section?

Oh, clicking again made it go white and go back to the select screen.

...and the last icon is a whole 8-ball, which means the joke could be that FOUR MORE YEARS LATER could be the opening caption for the next section, oh god oh god oh GOD

...alright, phew, there wasn't too much content to blog about there. I'm free to relax for a bit. Probably will have other stuff going on because my weeks are getting busier, though even that tiny glimpse of relevant hint-dropping in earlier commentary at the start means I SHOULD PROBABLY GET ON THAT COMMENTARY but won't have energy or time............. ah well whatever, I won't beat myself up about it, you get the Boots that you get. or bladekindeyewear or right i have two screennames. Toodeloo! How the fuck do you spell that... Oh, I got it right the first time, it just red-underlined it because i'm American. Toodeloo, 'til next update or the next time I'm free and bored and have enough energy to think of doing blogwork!

Also it's possibly notable that even though we've only had 4-plus-X chapters, chapter 5 (the eight ball not done yet) is followed by the BOTTOM LINK for NEXT that could serve as a chapter 6 (for 666) or plunge us into just two more in a separate S-or-non-S thing until Chapter 8.

Maybe to fit with the Hell theme we'll have just TWO more years instead of four... making this a total of 6 years she's skipped. What timeframe catches her up with Candy John to start flirting, if she were to land at about the same age? Someone else do the math for me, I'm too exhausted tonight. Byeeeeeeee!