#I spent soooooo long trying to understand what is what

[kirk-goes-to-gallifrey]

just realized I got mixed up and bought 3 litres of soap and no fabric softener 🥲

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 6: A Ride to Remember

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Chapter Summary: Your relationship with Arthur deepens over the course of several weeks, when vows are made and lessons are taught.

Word Count: 13K

Tags: 18+. MDNI. NSFW. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mutual Pining, Angst, Fluff, Infidelity, Oral Sex (m! and f! receiving), Unprotected PinV Sex, Cowgirl, Semi-public Sex, First Times, Possessive Arthur Morgan

Taglist: @how-the-heck-would-i-know @pinkiec6-rubi

AO3 Link

A/N: I am soooooo sorry for taking this long to finish this chapter. But I've been through somethings in the past few months I hope you understand. To make it up for you, chapter is extra long with tons of smut! It's divided in several parts to ease reading.

You've never been on top before. None of your past lovers ever thought of letting you take charge, much less suggest you actually do it. So when Arthur asked if you could, it took you very much by surprise.

"Think you can handle it, missy? Hmm?" His eyes glimmer with a devilish spark as he invites you into his lap, his back leaned against the headboard of your bed. He squeezes the inside of your thigh in encouragement as you kneel by his flank.

"I think so." You hesitate, unsure if you'll be able to please him in a position you have no experience in. But then you look at his lustful eager eyes and you know you'll never be able to say no. And you have to admit, the idea of riding him has you pretty aroused yourself.

"Come on. I'll help ya."

His back temporarily leaves his rest as his hands reach the side of your waist, guiding you up as you climb over his legs, sitting atop his strong bulky thighs. Your core settles right in front of his fully hard cock, now slicked with his precum as it lies on his stomach, impatient for more after you've spent the last few minutes stroking it. You feel yourself twitching uncomfortably with titillation at the thought of taking it all in.

He removes one hand from you to catch the base of his member, tilting it up, ready for you to mount. "No need to rush, darling. Take your time." He means to put you at ease despite his obvious excitement as the mischief in his smile deepens, the tip of his tongue sneaking out, making you even more eager to start.

You settle your hands on top of his chest, pressing down for support as you raise your rear, angling your entrance above the tip of his cock as you kneel again. Arthur's hand tightens as you hover above him and soon enough you feel him prodding between your folds. You look at him to ask if you can go ahead.

"Easy does it, darling." His thumb caresses the side of your belly to relax you, but you feel his cock shift below you in ardent anticipation.

You move slightly downwards, enough to feel his member peek inside, stretching your opening to make your breath hitch. Arthur removes the hand from his cock, aiding you in your lowering motion with both hands on your hips, supporting your weight so you don't plunge too fast. Inch by inch you lower yourself as you take all of him inside you, your walls stretching in welcomed gratification. Both of you emit soft grunts of pleasure as Arthur's chest vibrates under your fidgety hands. You try to keep your eyes on each other as they flutter from the delightful feeling of carnal intimacy.

Your buttocks finally rest against his thighs when he finally fills you to the hilt. "Oh, fuck, missy." He grabs your ass greedily, as if to reward you for sheathing him inside you, his eyes darting to where your bodies meet. You peer down as you see your soft curls now tangled conspicuously with his. "Don't think I'll ever get used to you taking me like this."

You try to adjust to his large size as you coat him with the wetness he pried from you while fingering you earlier. You mirror his cheeky but sweet smile. "Maybe we just gotta practice a little more."

He chuckles as your hands move aimlessly all over his chest, warming him up before you move. His fingers lightly squeeze your behind to do the same. "I reckon we should. I doubt I'll ever get used to it though."

"Won't hurt to try." Your fingertips brush the area of his nipples. "I'm willing if you are."

"Yeah?" He raises a hand to your face to caress the side of your cheek with his thumb, biting down on his own lip. "Wanna show me how willing you are?"

He's ready to start when you are.

You rush your hands to the sides of his navel, moving your thumbs to pet the area below, twirling some of the black hairs you saw before. The teasing is enough to make the member inside you move and suddenly all you want to do is to countermove. "Seems I'm not the only one willing, am I?"

The first roll of your hips is barely visible but both of you feel it as his cock shifts gently against your walls, a satisfying taste of what's to come. He gets hungry for more as he lowers his hand to join the other, now blending his fingers with the curve of your hips. You take the chance to move them again, this time more noticeably as your folds almost touch the knuckles of your fingers, still skimming the sensitive skin of his groin.

It's the loud exhale he gives you that makes you start to lose your shyness, wanting to hear the sweet noises he makes for you over and over again, even if it's at the expense of your poise. You move your waist more forcefully, nudging yourself closer to his stomach, making you both puff out in delight. Each drag of your hips comes slow and gentle, but you can feel the gradual build of the fire in your core as you try to resist the urge to go too fast too soon.

"That's it, missy. You got it." His fingers press against your soft flesh as he assists your back-and-forth movements, the lechery of his eyes intensifying. "Keep going like that for me, angel."

His encouraging words only enflame your state of yearning, so you pick up the pace a little, moving your hands up to flatten them on his chest. As you move to the new angle, you fortuitously brush your clit against his pubic bone, the feeling so sublime you let out a whine of surprise and elation. You have no choice but to repeat it again, the result only more divine as you let your mouth hang.

"You like that, huh?" He grabs you more vigorously as you start to grind him wantonly.

You look into his eyes again, unsure if this is what he had planned when he asked you to be on top, wondering if he's enjoying it. "This alright?"

"Oh, it's perfect, missy." He lifts himself up to plant an affectionate kiss on your lips, his gaze even darker now. "Take what you need, darling."

His approval is all you require to move your hands even higher, clutching hungrily at his shoulders as your sensitive nub lies even flatter against his skin, the rubbing now so intense it keeps you from staying silent and cogent. You revel in your all-encompassing passion as you feel your walls fluttering against his own responsive arousal, filling you with the overwhelming sense that you are getting closer to the brink of endless wonder.

"Keep going, sweetheart. Almost there."

Arthur's sweet encouragement brings you back to a surprising state of awareness. You've only been intimate a few times, but they seem to have been enough for Arthur to learn when you're reaching your edge, aware of the effect his coaxing words have on you, prying a release from you every single time. Even when it's his choice of position, he still helps you rut yourself over him, making sure you chase your pleasure to completion first.

You must have slowed down your movements as he's compelled to spur you on. "Don't stop, missy. Not now. Keep going." His hands shove your weight forward to pick up the pace again. "Be my good girl and come around me." His wish is your command as you start to move unrestrained against him, your eyes closing shut as delectation devours you. "Come on. Need you to do this. Need to feel you, angel." His fingers bury themselves on your hips as he pushes you over the brink of deliverance. "Let me feel you feel good."

Your climax is heaven on earth as you arch back into the air, your head tilting back in victorious ecstasy as it hangs dreamily on cloud nine. In a thrilling change of pace, you soar up rather than sink your pleasure into the constriction of a worn-out mattress or the bumpy surface of a bale of hay. The only thing anchoring you is the firm build of Arthur between your thighs.

Your hands leave Arthur's shoulders to an aimless destination as you feel his own reach for your back, helping you ride your wave of pleasure, placing soft conciliatory kisses around your chest. Low soft grunts still leave your slack mouth when you slowly open your eyes, feeling your chest puff against an obstruction. When you look down, you see Arthur's face buried between your breasts, sucking gently at your damp skin. You take the opportunity to rest your head against his, feeling him hum with appreciation as he wraps you tightly in his arms.

It's a while before he comes up for air and even then he chooses to kiss your lips instead, his tongue still wet from nuzzling your bosom, hurried inside without ceremony. Rather than letting you come down from your high, it sustains itself with the extension of his enveloping kiss, making you tangle yourself against him in pure bliss.

"That was great, missy." His face slants to look up at yours as elated as you are, drunk on your own rapture as if it were his.

You take the chance to move slightly as you resettle on his lap, your core still sensitive as you brush against him. His member still pulses inside you and you're reminded of the pleasure you still have to bestow him. "It ain't over yet, cowboy." You push his shoulders to make him lean back against the bed, feeling very little resistance as he realizes it's his turn now, giving him a peck on his lips when he settles. "Show me what you had in mind."

His face turns somber, his eyes grow darker and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows your words, preparing to quell the overbearing lust running through his veins. His hands move to their previous place on your hips before you cover them with your own, encouraging him to move you however he desires. You feel the ridge of his knuckles shift as his fingers begin to knead your bruising flesh, his grip tightening as he finally starts to roll you against him. It's not long before your speed hastens and your pulse quickens again, needing to brace yourself on his shoulders, allowing close contact between your loose lips.

"Christ, missy. You're so good to me. You know that?" The meshing of your hips turns noisier by the second as they begin to slam into each other, his hands now directing you in up-and-down thrusts. "I oughta keep ya all to myself."

His member slides easily in and out of you with the blend of your fluids, his release approaching as he repeatedly hits your magical spot, both of you panting from renewed exhilaration.

Arthur keeps his eyes on you as if he's realizing something, you practically see a question form with the furrow of his brow. Suddenly he slows you down, limiting your thrusts without stopping them entirely. You know he's about to ask you something important if he's delaying his own release for it.

"You sleeping with anyone else?"

The question catches you by surprise, but you're quick to reply. "No."

It's the truth. You haven't slept with your husband in months and, when you did, there was nothing about it that was enjoyable or sensual. The last time was a brief tussle to get him off before he left for Annesburg, one where you didn't even pant and he didn't care if you did. You remember vividly feeling empty as he filled you up, the cracks on the ceiling as exciting as his thrusts. Just another passionless night with another heartless man in a list of too many few.

Now that you think about it, nothing can compare to what has happened between you and Arthur in the past few days. Not even close.

Your negative answer earns a purr of satisfaction from him, reaching for your chin with his fingers to pull you in. "Good. Keep it that way, yeah?"

You nod in agreement as you lean into his mouth, his tongue prodding yours to seal your vow of exclusivity as you surrender to the man who wants you all to himself, burying himself deeper within you.

His hands go back to your hips before they settle on your rear, grabbing hungrily as you both resume your lascivious pounding, the feeling intensified by the unceremonious binding of your union. Your breasts bounce wildly in front of him, earning his undisputed attention as he tries to land his lips on them. He stops when he begins to grunt disorderly, leaning his head against the headboard as he prepares to finish.

"Need you to rise, missy. I'm gonna--" He bites down on his lip, his teeth sinking hard as his hands promptly clasp your hips with all the will still left in him, with enough force to remove you from his cock, sitting you on top of his clenching thighs. He manages to stroke himself a few times before the white ropes erupt as he directs them to his stomach, his whole body trembling beneath yours. An earthquake of a deeply satisfied man.

He pants as he opens his eyes, his hands caressing your shoulders as he propels you forward to his kiss.

"So good to me.”

Your breasts dance against the sinful cadence of his heaving chest, his words reverberating close to your beating heart.

“And only me."

Your first ride on top is one to remember.

----

The weeks never passed so quickly before Arthur, much less this blissfully. You keep track of the days since you met for the first two or three weeks. But then the count becomes hazy, blurred by the consuming nature of your passion, the devouring nestling of your thighs, the countless collisions of your lips.

He visits you when he can escape from his other life, twice a week most times, three times if you're both lucky. He usually arrives with the sunset, his shirt still soaked from a hard day's work, his neck dusty from the ride over. You quench his thirst right away, first with your lips and then with a glass of water, watching as he heads to your bedroom to wash away his impurity in your vanity. Just like on the day when you first met.

You usually have dinner ready, repeating dishes he has previously enjoyed, always making sure you have extra potatoes. You try to have a cooled pie waiting for him, one he'll gobble up even after a big meal, regardless of its flavor. But apple remains his favorite, you can tell. He brings sacks full of groceries, bottles full of whiskey, and handfuls of game meat, enough food to feed the both of you and have leftovers. He stuffs himself until he can't take anymore, satisfying a bottomless hunger that only your cooking seems to appease. Just like on the day when you first met.

He makes sure to tap his belly when he finishes, the fabric of his shirt stretching as it swells. "I'm gaining weight from your fine cooking, missy."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't eat so much, Mr. Morgan."

"Can't help it when you cook so well."

"I know a way to burn it off." You know he loves your sly remarks as much as your cooking.

Once his tastebuds are satisfied, he usually grabs your arms, pulling you into his hot embrace or his fidgety lap, tugging from you fervent kisses to try to indulge his remaining need. Sometimes you're able to escape to finish the dishes, most times you aren't, his stomach not the only part of him that stretches after dark.

You always end the night holed up in your bedroom, the many phases of the moon depicted in your window as they change, your lustful connection never once waning. He stretches you out on the mattress, working you with his tongue or his hands, prying you open to receive him. He buries himself in your tightness, sometimes letting you stroke him beforehand, his size always a scintillating marvel when pressed against your fingers or your walls. He envelops you with his whole body or lets you straddle him with your thighs, hungry to feel your release, getting off on your seismic pleasure every time. He's careful to finish out of you, tainting both of your flesh with the white stains of a sinful tryst. You always end up in the iron grip of his loving arms, soothing each other before sleep tames you. Just like on the night when you first met.

He wakes up in the morning next to you, sometimes energetic enough to go again, sometimes satisfied enough not to attempt it, lavishing you with sweet tender kisses instead. He drinks your bitter coffee and eats your runny eggs, his gaze twinkling with the soft light of the morning sun. You brush his hair with your fingers before he covers it with his hat, the hanging ropes on the brim swaying as he kisses you goodbye, the sound of his parting boots heavy in your yard and in your chest. Behind he leaves his vow to come back. Just like on the day after you first met.

And just like a few days after you met, he comes back to keep his word, bringing with him the exciting promise of the sunset and the sensual touch of the night.

----

It is a particularly hot afternoon when Arthur arrives with his shirt covered in blood, the stench nauseating as the sun intensifies, the sight heart-wrenching as you think it's his own spill.

He can tell from your face you’re riddled with anguish. "I'm fine, darling, was out hunting is all." He unloads from his horse the deer he caught, already skinned and prepped for a fresh meal. "You in the mood for some stew?"

He places the carcass on your kitchen counter, chopping it up into sizable chunks as you prepare to salt most of it, leaving a few pieces to cook for dinner. He's thoughtful enough to remove his shirt right away and you draw him a bath to wash away the viscous blood still on his chest and shoulders.

When he's inside the tub, he's insistent that you scrub him. "I can't reach my back, missy. Think you can help me?" You try to hasten the washing as you still have to prepare dinner and wash his clothes, earning a reprimand from him. "Go easy on me, darling. I don't like it so rough."

You soften the swabs of your sponge, enough to hear him relax with deep breaths, his back sinking against the edge of the tub. "That feels real good, missy." You have no choice but to scrub his chest, which turns into a very bad idea once he starts pecking your lips, interrupting your movements as he gets bolder by the kiss. "God, I missed you, sweetheart." It’s been three days since you last saw each other. Your mouths entangle as you feel his wet hands dampen your back. "I miss these lips every single day. You know that?"

When he gets tired of you skidding away from him, ignoring his kisses so you can continue to wash him, you suddenly feel his hands reach the side of your hips, picking you up from the ground to land you with a wet crash on his lap, your skirt heavy with the weight of the water as you soak in his embrace. You try to contain your amusement as he attempts to kiss you, soon edging his tongue into the middle of your lips, satisfied only when you hum in unexpected pleasure.

He stares at you for a few seconds, tracing the shape of your mouth as if he's never seen it before, stretching your lips with a few soft rubs of his inquisitive thumb as if to test their malleability. "Prettiest lips I've ever seen."

"Well, they're all yours, partner." You think your remark is a rather lame flirtation but it turns into much more as his eyes suddenly darken and he inhales deeply before giving you the most selfish kiss, taking your words to heart as he takes what's rightfully his.

"Too pretty for an ugly old fool like me." You splash him with water to reprimand his off-putting self-deprecation, making him grab your hands so you can stay still to continue to ravage your defiant lips.

Somehow you convince him to let you go, promising a belated recompense if he lets you finish your chores. You try to leave the slippery tub with some difficulty, chuckling at his childish pettiness when he refuses to help you up. Eventually you manage to get on your feet, shedding your clothes before going to get some dry ones.

He’s sore enough to complain as you leave the room. “Wish you could leave your lips as easily as you leave me.”

Despite the temptation of returning to his arms, you try to get a move on with dinner, the pot by the fire soon filled with softening venison and herbs. You scrub his bloodied shirt against the washboard in your yard, your hands turning frightfully red in the attempt. It’s pristine blue when you finally hang it on the clothesline.

You turn around to head back inside when you see Arthur standing on the porch, only a loose small towel hanging from his waist.

“Dinner ready yet?”

“Hold your horses, would you? I’m adding the potatoes now.”

“Well, if I can’t have your lips then at least put some food in my mouth, woman!”

You give him a defying look as you pass him on the way in, trying to ignore his clinging. “Running your mouth not enough for you?”

He’s quick to grab you tightly from behind, his breath hot as it blows in your ear. “Not even close, missy.”

You try to break from his embrace unsuccessfully. “Why don’t you put on some clothes and then we can eat?”

“You better eat quick then, 'cause I ain’t waiting long.”

His impatience seems to ease when he finally starts to eat the stew, sitting in his chair with a new set of clothes, still dented from the shape of his saddle. Despite his threat, dinner is not rushed and you actually enjoy it, soothed by the comfort of the food and the pleasure of your company. He even lets you do the dishes first, all while you enjoy some of his unbelievable tales of his time out West.

When you go to get the glasses from the table, he stops you in your attempt and you know you've gone far enough. His grip is strong on your forearms but he verbalizes his wish rather than pull you down. "Sit."

His lap is inviting, spread enough to cushion the width of your rear as you climb on top of him face to face, the feeling familiar once his kisses start pouring, your hands grabbing his neck as you always do. What you don't know is this time won't be like any other.

It's when he pauses the work of his tongue that you know something is off, his eyes staring as he gains the courage to ask you an intimate request. "I want to feel your mouth on me, missy." His thumb returns to the place it was brushing in the tub. "Take me with those pretty lips of yours."

Your face burns hot as you hear him, first from the lewd nature of his wish, second from the realization that you've never done it before. The eagerness in his eyes is ignited and you feel a tingling at the prospect of pleasing him as he desires.

An act so debauched it seems akin to blasphemy. Then again, you've gone this far in your adultery, why not please your lover as he desires.

“Think you can do it? Hm?”

You nod in agreement, ready to cross the threshold of the gates of hell.

"Good. Get on your knees for me, would ya?"

Arthur helps you off his lap, his hands clasping your hips until you're standing, then reaching to undo his pants. You lower your knees to the ground, supporting your hands on his thighs to ease the landing. His cock is in his hand by the time you're down, stroking to grow his size.

His free hand reaches the side of your head, petting you lovingly as he prepares. "You comfortable?"

You suddenly worry that your lack of experience will be too telling, unsure how to bring him to completion this way. You decide that perhaps it's best to be honest, giving him the chance to teach you how. "Arthur." Your hands caress the hard bone on his knees as he looks at you with interest. "I've never-" Your tongue is suddenly sticky with fluster. "I've never done it before."

His face turns somber as his hands suddenly rush to your upper arms, tightly grabbing them to pull you up. “Jesus, darling. Should’ve told me.” His grip is strong but not enough to move you. “Get up, sweetheart. We’ll do something else.”

You rise from your knees to sit on his lap while you protest his decision. “No, I want to, Arthur. Really.” His hands pull you closer to his chest as you sit on him sideways. “You just have to tell me how.”

He looks into your eyes to see if there’s truth in your words, his brow knitting in concern. “You sure? I don’t want you to do something you don’t want.”

“Yeah, I want to.” You kiss him on the lips to sweeten the deal. “Teach me how to make you feel good.”

The tip of his thumb returns to your mouth, swiping it lazily as he ponders how to proceed, making sure you don’t regret your words. His hardness is now resting on your leg, which makes you even more eager to go through with it, kissing him again to see if he makes up his kind. "Tell me how you like it."

“Christ, missy.” He gives you one last peck before he squeezes the softness of your thigh in encouragement. “Let me get up, would you?”

You’re a little confused as to why he’s getting up, but you rise anyway, sitting back on his chair as he directs you down with his hands on your shoulders. He pets the side of you arms and face before he inches backward, soon shedding his clothes unceremoniously, his member stiff as it protrudes from his nakedness. You watch as he clears the table in front of you, piling the remaining tableware on the other side of it, leaving his glass of whiskey behind. He’s so tall he easily sits on the table without barely the lift of his heels, his feet then coming to rest on the side of the chair by your thighs, his erection on the table right in front of you.

His lips glisten with the remaining shot of whiskey he takes, placing the empty glass next to his leg. “If anything don’t feel right you tell me, yeah?” His hand caresses your jaw as he assesses your psyche. You feel yourself getting wetter in anticipation, your heart beating a little faster and your palms getting a little sweaty. You hope to serve him well. “I don’t want you swallowing, ok? Just spit on this here glass. I’ll tell you when it’s time.”

His free hand encircles around his member, pumping lazily to get him ready for you. You take the chance to spread your hands on his thighs, gently caressing him to help him relax, hopefully convince him you’re calm yourself, willing to carry on with his lesson.

“Just do what feels good, missy.” The grip on your jaw tightens as he slightly pushes you forward to him. “Nice and slow, darling. It ain’t a race.” You nod in understanding, his eyes blown with wanting as his thumb brushes your lips for the last time. “I'll let you know what to do. You ready?”

Your yes is enthusiastic and clear, your lips moving against his finger before he drops his hand, pulling himself closer to the edge of the table so you can access him more comfortably. His grip returns to the side of your head to lightly brush your cheek as the other hand guides one of your own to his shaft.

Your palm feels hot and damp at the same time with his slick slathered around the stiffness of his flesh, the one you’ve touched so many times in your erotic nights. His fingers instruct you to resume his ministrations as you feel the ridge of his veins between your heedful fingers, stroking so you get used to feeling him, preparing to take him with your mouth.

His hand guides your head upwards so your lips can meet, savoring you with his full intent, wetting your mouth with the drip of his tongue. When he eases his grip on you, you take the chance to dampen his chin and his jaw, soon reaching for his neck as you lean into the roughness of his beard, settling on the softness of his collarbone. You continue your passage downwards as he continues to brush your hair, his other hand now petting your sinking shoulder, leaving your hand free to fondle his cock in slow but pleasing strokes.

The kisses you leave on his chest are plentiful and dragged until you reach the hollow of his navel when you suddenly feel him grab your hair as his tip brushes against the skin of your throat, a hitched breath leaving his own. You push his member lower so you can begin to kiss the area of his groin, your hand stopping its movements when your chin gets in the way, continuing his pleasure by circling your thumb around his tip. The combination of movements is welcomed as he begins to breathe deeper, both of you quivering with anticipation as you begin to breach the gap between his cock and your mouth, pecking the skin around the base as you wait for instructions.

His thumb caresses your ear in tenderness as he finally speaks. "Use your lips first, darling."

It seems natural to continue to kiss him, your lips landing unhurriedly on his base, his warmth as delightful as the other parts of his skin. But it feels different for him as he takes a deep breath, his fingers curling close to your scalp, urging for more of your touch. You're quick to continue to peck him, leaving a trail of soft kisses along the top of his eager member, stopping before you reach his tantalizing crown.

Unsure how to proceed, you look up at him. You've never seen his eyes so dark, blown with need. The hand on your hair moves, his thumb brushing your lips as he parts them, reaching the inside of your cheek before he swipes the ridge of your salivated tongue, driving it out of your mouth.

"Use your tongue now, missy."

His wet thumb drags against your hair as his hand returns to the back of your head as you move down, both of you anxious to feel the brush of your tongue against his stiffness.

There's nothing gracious when you finally make contact, your taste buds coming alive with the bitterness of his flesh, the hot feeling against your tongue much like the one you felt on your fingers before, the sensation both familiar and new at the same time. You feel resistance against his hardness as you begin to move your tongue in unthoughtful movements, suddenly hungry to stretch it fully to slather as much of him as possible. It must be pleasurable enough for him as it earns his audible approval, his cock twitching underneath the roughness of your tongue, his hand moving with your head as you swirl aimlessly over the length of his shaft.

Your back and forth movements are amateurish, sloppy, crass even, but you hurry them along as you feel his breath hitch, a burning desire building in your own core, holding the base of his cock to hold it closer to your mouth, your other hand squeezing his thigh. You continue to lick him until you finally feel his fingers clasp your shoulder. "Slow down, darling. Easy."

You reduce your tonguing, aiming for a relaxed rhythm that's more attuned to his liking as you hear him grunt deeper and more frequently as his arousal builds. You notice he is particularly sensitive at his tip, his breath hitching further as you lick its underside repeatedly. Before you realize it, the circle of your lips begins to surround his tip as your tongue slides forward, soon taking him deeper into the tightness of your mouth, dragging his flesh along the hunger of your buds.

When a few inches of him are inside you, you feel his hand curl in your hair. "Take it out now, missy." It's the high-pitched breath he gives you when you retract that indicates what he likes, so when his tip touches yours again, you immediately set out to sink him inside you once more until you repeat the motion again.

His hands tighten around your skin and he huffs deeper as you suck around him, your head bobbing to bring him in and out of you, getting him closer and closer to a state of uncontrolled bliss. Somehow, he still has the presence of mind to grab your immobile hand around his base, urging you to pump him as you still work your mouth around him. "That's it, sweetheart." His words are muffled by the prelude of his peak. "Fuck. Don't stop."

As your mouth adapts to the feeling, you begin to ease into your movements, taking him deeper as your mouth waters, your chin soon dripping with excess. As your hand continues its work, you feel your own core swell, needing to slightly graze the seat beneath you to seek some comfort. When you feel none, you begin to rock in the chair, removing your hand from his thigh to your own as you begin to circle your bud. You are so aroused by Arthur's own thrill you're quick to pant yourself, your own moans now engulfing him too as they land on his hot flesh. But they're no match to his, your own pleasure so enticing to him he suddenly gets louder, beginning his ascent into uncontrollable madness.

"It's time."

His words are barely perceptible between his grunts, his muscles flexing and his hands now grabbing you, almost edging on pain as you steady yourself back on the might of his thigh. His release comes quick after that, his member twitching against your cheeks as you finally feel hot fluid reach your tongue, soon flooding the rest of your mouth in depraved novelty, tasting the curious elation of your gratified lover. His spill is bountiful and you're soon fighting back the urge to swallow it, remembering his wish that you spit it out instead.

Once he stops his effusion, it takes him a while to gather composure, his tip still inside you as his grunts overflow, growing quiet with each breath. His hands push you back until you reach the back of the chair, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet noise, dripping with his white release, a few drops landing heated on your thigh. Still overwhelmed with ecstasy, he reaches for the glass by his side before his thumb returns to your lips, either to wipe his seed off of them or to rub it on them more evenly. He then brings the glass right to them.

"Spit, darling."

You gather most of the slick around your mouth before you spit, his remnants still coating much of your insides as it mixes with your saliva. The milky fluid drips into his glass like molasses and he puts it away once he's satisfied with the outcome. His hand returns to your jaw, giving you a few pats before he unexpectedly leans in, taking your wet lips into his as he begins to taste himself on you.

"You did so well, missy." His eyes lock into yours, your hands clutching his hips as you hear his praise. "Such a good girl for me." Your lips smack with the sound of wetness. "Let me take care of you now."

You regret when he leaves your lips, moving backward as he reaches for your hands, removing them from him before his feet hit the ground. He stands as he looks down at you, giving you an extra peck before he places his hands at your waist, pressing your legs to wrap them around his torso, lifting you up without delay. He places you down on the side of the table where he sat, the wood still warm from his own thighs, his hands then moving under your skirt, pulling your bloomers all the way down.

"Take the rest off, darling. I wanna see you."

You're quickly naked for him, your bare bottom close to the edge of the table as he begins to dowse you with wet kisses, from your lips to your breasts to your navel, his movements hurried as you already groan from built-up arousal. When he returns to take one of your nipples into his mouth, you suddenly whine with vexation. "Arthur, please!"

He looks worriedly at you as you lead one of his hands to your core, showing him how wet you are for him, closing your legs around his hand when he begins to rub your clit. "It's ok, sweetheart. I got you."

Arthur gets on his knees in a swift determined motion, his hands stretching your legs open so he can place his head between them. He wraps his arms around your thighs, inching you closer to the edge of the table so he can have full entry to your needy core.

You’re already a slobbering mess when his tongue begins to lavish between your swollen lips, tightly bracing your thighs to hold you steady. You let out deep repressed grunts, your back falling restless against the table as he begins to suck you mercilessly, returning the favor of devouring your flesh, prying delectable pleasure from you. Eating you as famished as he ate his dinner right on the same side of the table.

You’re a sight to see if anyone were to walk into your yard. With the windows open, curtains swaying with the night breeze, the lamps illuminating the sinful romp unfolding inside. You’re splayed on the table, breast bouncing with each panted scream you let out, hands clutched around his hair, thighs and back undulating around him. His face is covered in your cunt, his arms flexed to hold you, his knees rocking against the floor where he kneels. The most sinful act unfolding at the place where you're supposed to say grace, not receive it.

The work of his tongue is overwhelming as you quickly reach the point of no return, further intensified when he teases a finger at your entrance. When it's finally curled inside, you begin to lose control, your unrestrained cries only stifled by the walls, your eyes closing shut in blinding gratification. Your hands leave his hair, flailing around to find some solace, finding none. Instead, you knock down Arthur's glass, his release spilling on the floor below as the crystal breaks. Soon after that, you break too.

Your climax is as ruthless as your journey there, prolonged by his unrelenting need to keep you writhing under his tongue, feeling your whole body quake for him. Your mutual moans of gratification coalesce into a salacious tune that is only broken when you beg for mercy. "Arthur!"

He looks straight into your eyes before he removes himself from between your legs, raising from his position to move to your side, leaning down to kiss you softly, caressing your arms as he attempts to bring you down from your delirium.

It takes a while for you to still, your legs still trembling as they arch on the table, your core still exposed to the breeze coming in, the coarse wood suddenly a nuisance against your bare skin. Arthur somehow manages to read your mind, sitting back on his chair before he pulls you down onto his lap again, resting your spent head on one of his shoulders, soothing your sweaty back as your breaths even again. You stay like that for a while and, when you move, you feel your skin sticky against his, like you're not meant to be pulled apart.

"I think we need another bath." You croon against his ear before you dare to press your lips against his beard.

"Mhm, I guess so." His fingers attempt to comb your damp hair. "You gonna leave those pretty lips of yours with me this time?"

It takes all your strength to pull your head back to see his glowing eyes again, his question still adrift in them. "Maybe I'll leave all of me instead. How about that?"

"Oh? You will?" His kiss tells you what you want to hear, his tongue soon prodding yours as he breathes you in. He breaks when he is satisfied, bringing his thumb once more to the cushion of your bottom lip. "Gonna have to clean the mess I made in you then. Leave you as pretty as I found you."

You nod, your smile widening as you remember the taste of him. But something behind him catches your eye as you look over his shoulder, seeing a wet splatter across your dining room floor. "You're gonna have to clean my floor too, mister."

It's the way he laughs, his joy reverberating on your chest, his hands moving gently along your curves, his hips jiggling you with contentment, his lips stretching into an undisturbed smile, his eyes looking into yours with fearless passion. It's the way he asked if you could please him as he wanted, the way he gave you the same thing in return. It's the way he holds you close after making you feel so euphoric. It's the way he makes you realize you're deeply in love.

----

It was too good to be true. The boundless joy Arthur's given you was bound to break, sooner or later. You'd just hoped it'd be later.

Fetching mail at the Valentine station was always dreadful, your heart always heavy as you climbed the wooden stairs, as you stared at the mustache of the station attendant, waiting for your loathed turn. You'd ache at the sight of another letter from your miserable husband, promising his eventual return, notifying you of a new deposit, defacing written words of inexistent love.

But this time the letter is different, not the usual sandy stationary he uses. Instead, it's a pristine white envelope and the handwritten address tells you immediately who it's from. Your Aunt Caroline always had the prettiest penmanship.

Your feet lead you unconsciously to the nearest bench, sitting down just as you pry open the envelope, smiling as you see your aunt's good wishes. I hope this letter finds you in unbridled joy, my dear. It really does.

Her pleasantries are plentiful as she details her new life in Saint Denis and how much it has aided your uncle's health, who seems much improved with the change of scenery. The heat was bothersome at first but now it seems to suit them quite well. Their social calendar has kept them busy as they have adapted to the city's high society, their connections growing with their substantial wealth. They seem to only want for one thing: the treasured company of their favorite and only niece.

She formally asks you to go visit them in Saint Denis, knowing well that your husband remains in Annesburg while you continue your simple solitary life in New Hanover. The invitation is endearing and for a moment you relish the idea of visiting your beloved aunt and uncle, the people who raised you after your parents passed. Spending a few weeks with them should be invigorating as they spoil you with their genuine affection, even if they might insist on parading you around in uncomfortable dresses at pretentious dinner parties and soirées. After months of solitude, it might be bearable, enjoyable even.

But then you remember Arthur. You suddenly feel the ghost of his hands on your hips, his lips on your neck, his thighs on your own, his breath hot on your ear as he tells you how much he wants you. The thrilling memories of the past few months come flooding in and suddenly your heart breaks at the thought of leaving him, the only lover who's ever treated you right. It'd be foolish to do him wrong.

But then you read more of the letter and your heart breaks even more.

I have written to your dear husband Stanley regarding your visit to Saint Denis. He has informed me that he would like to come see you once you are settled with us, requesting new correspondence once you have arrived. He will make his traveling arrangements then.

The trip is suddenly surrounded with gloom at the mention of seeing your husband, his presence the last thing you need back in your life. Your knee begins to shake involuntarily, the heel clicking and echoing around the unusually quiet train station. The notion of leaving Arthur to return to that scoundrel is revolting, like running from a safe haven to go chase unruly tornados.

But then you read your aunt's following paragraph and you realize you have no other choice.

I really do hope you get to join us here for a time. If not for my sake, at least for your uncle, who seems to yearn to hold his little girl in his arms again. He speaks so fondly of you every day. I'd be jealous if I didn't regard you with the same consideration. Perhaps you'd like to oblige the wishes of a sentimental old couple while you still can. I've never known you to be unkind. You were always the light in your woeful lives. I hope you get to be it once more.

And in that moment you realize your love for them is much bigger than your resentment for your husband. Or your passion for Arthur.

I look forward to seeing your sweet smile again, the one you happily got from your sweet mother. Wishing you were here already, Your Aunt Caroline

You take a deep breath as a sound grabs your attention. It's a little boy sitting down on the bench in front of you, his mother urging him to behave as they wait for the next train. Her caring hand is on his shoulder, petting him lovingly as he calms down, his feet hovering impatiently above the floor. He must be the age you were when your aunt and uncle went to pick you up and took you from the only life you knew, petting you lovingly on the shoulder too.

You rise from your seat, your mind made up as you walk to the station attendant so you can send a letter to begin preparing for your journey to Saint Denis.

You just hope Arthur Morgan forgives you.

----

It's a hot afternoon when you return home, your mare Amber back in the shade of your stable, your skirt brown on the brim from the Valentine mud as you tread up the stairs onto your porch. You're wondering how you might survive the Saint Denis heat when you see a bouquet of fresh flowers resting on your windowsill, begging to be primed on your prettiest vase. There is a note stuck on the closed door, a ripped page from a journal.

Sorry I missed you. A. M.

It saddens you to see Arthur was here and you weren't, unable to receive his eager kisses and his gentle embrace as you tell him how much you like the flowers. Your heart aches knowing that you may not have many chances to do it again.

Upon much reflection, your decision still seems sound as you think of the joy you'll give your uncle as he gets to hug you again, letting you win at cards when he thinks you can't tell. Your aunt will welcome you with her kind and trustful face as she begins her attempts to get you to eat as much as she can, her cakes as soft as the pillows where you'll sleep. It'll be heaven to be with them again.

But you can't shake Arthur from your mind. To pause your love affair seems crass, both to him and to you, especially now that you know each other so well. You can't even bear to think of ending it all together, a thought so cruel it robs most of your night's sleep. When you somehow sleep a wink, you wake up exhausted, dreading the moment you have to tell Arthur the news of you leaving him. Either for now or for good.

It's not surprising he comes to you in the afternoon, barely a day after he missed you, desperate to see you again. He doesn't bring you anything, just the sweet return of his arms and the hunger of his lips, his presence so comforting it makes you swoon with elation. Somehow your doubts dissolve when you feel him breathing you in.

His longing for you is clear as he leaves his saddle quicker than usual, kissing you hurriedly, not even bothering to lead his horse Titus to the stable, hitching him to your porch instead. When he returns to kiss you again, you see why. His pants are tented much more than usual for this time of day.

When your hips meet, his eagerness brushes directly on your waist but he has the need to tell you himself. "Sweetheart, really need you right now."

You toy with the seam of his pants, threatening to unbutton him right then and there. "Missed me, did you?"

"You know I did." He reaches for your hand, urging you to lower it, soon palming his growing arousal over the fabric of his jeans. He kisses you sloppily, shameless lust running through his veins. "Need you now, missy." His breath hitches as your fingers work your magic. "Needed you yesterday too. I can't wait any longer, sweetheart."

You suddenly stop your teasing, placing your hands on his shoulders so you can whisper close in his ear. "Inside."

You watch his confused expression for a moment before you grab him by the hand, walking him up the porch as you lead him inside to the living room, quickly beginning to undress as you sit on your davenport, your boots off as you throw them across the floor. You've never seen Arthur undress this fast, his cock is in his hand as you still work the buttons on your blouse, stroking himself as he watches you toss the remaining clothes.

His breath is already heavy when he settles on the davenport next to you, guiding you onto his lap before he kisses you deeply, once, twice, thrice. His hands run over your body to warm you up, tantalizing your skin with the sweet touch of passion before his fingers focus on your nipples, riling you up for what's to come. He then speeds up his usual slow approach as he begins to circle your clit, his member anxious as it falls on your thigh and you begin to stroke it.

Arthur begins to moan with built-up arousal and you see him getting more impatient by the minute, clutching one of your hips to try to contain himself, hoping he lasts long enough to sink inside you. One of his fingers enters you, trying to open you up for him so you can quench his intolerable ache. Two fingers are inside you when he finally admits defeat. "Missy, I- I need to-"

"Get inside me, Arthur."

He lets out a grunt before you feel his hands at your waist, clasping you tightly before he picks you up with all of his brute force, laying you down on the sofa underneath him, spreading your legs apart so he can place himself in the middle. His breath is loud and frantic as he brings a hand to his beading member, brushing it up and down your slit until he finally gives in and enters you, quicker than either of you had hoped, the feeling strained until you adjust to him, moaning into the thick air around you as he begins to move inside you.

His hands grab your thighs forcefully as he begins to slam himself against you, chasing a high that intensifies with each thrust. Even as he fills you to the hilt, he craves more, trying to deepen himself within you until he disappears completely. Unsatisfied, he places the back of your knees on his shoulders, bending you to his will as your thighs press against his chest, your knees on his shoulders, his face lowered against yours as he finally gets you in the angle he was craving.

Folded underneath his greed, succumbed to his complete will and desire, you feel every muscle in your body come alive with passion, blinding pleasure devouring your every sense in the most salacious position he's had you yet. Face to face in reciprocal vigorous lust, it's not long until both of you are consumed by ravenous sensations of ecstasy and release, unsure of how long you stare into each other's eyes before you both still in satisfaction, both breathing frantically as he rests his foreheads against yours. It takes a few moments before either of you ease on the tight grip you have on each other's flesh, your fingers only easing when your lips wrap in delightful gratitude.

When the time comes for unfurling yourselves, your knees crack from the stretch, your muscles aching with the strain of your stance. Arthur helps you onto his lap as he sits, rubbing pleasingly as he sees you struggle to extend your legs. After a few minutes, you're well enough to head inside to your vanity and begin to wash yourself, his seed sticky as it cools on your stomach. When you finish, you realize you still have to tell him you're leaving, a derangement after the proximity you just shared.

Your skin is still damp when you return to the living room in your nakedness, leaning against the wall as you watch Arthur collect his clothes from the floor, then sitting down once his pants are buttoned, all the while staring back at you.

"Seems I can't enough of you, can't I?" His forehead is still aglow with sweat, his locks darker from the exertion, contentment painting his face as he smiles. But your stomach turns violently.

Your face must show your worry as he suddenly frowns. "What's wrong?"

"We need to talk."

He instinctively holds out his hand for you to take, directing you to join him as he motions you to sit by his side.

And then you tell him.

----

Two weeks are all you have left until your trip to Saint Denis. The letter you get from your aunt a few days later confirms that a hired carriage will take you to the city a week from Friday, your departure from Valentine scheduled early in the morning so you may travel in the comfort and security of the daylight, the trip already paid by your eager aunt and uncle. You are to make use of the remaining time to put your affairs in order. But only one in particular matters.

Arthur took the news of your trip better than you expected. At least initially. He understood your need to take the trip from the moment you told him, encouraging you to do what is necessary to be a good niece. But you could see he was pained when you told him you weren't sure how long you'd be gone, that the trip might take you away from him for several weeks, months even. He looked at you with his disappointed opulent eyes, swallowing hard at the notion of losing you, even if temporarily. Yet his words were nothing if not supportive and unfazed, the hands on your hips claiming you could go.

But it is the way he lingers behind every day until your trip that tells you just how much he's dreading to see you leave. The first few days he leaves for his work in the morning, coming back at night to spend the evening with you. But the closer to the day, the more he delays his departure and hurries his arrival. One day he doesn't even leave at all, staying with you until the time comes to escort you to Valentine.

His presence is more than welcomed as your efforts to close down your small property pile on. He helps you take your chickens to a friendly farmer up north, then boarding up the coop so no wild animals nest there. He mends part of the fence that surrounds your homestead, ensuring it's tall enough so no one can break in while you're gone. He fixes the bent hinges on your front door, so it may close safely and hold until you return to open it. He helps you eat most of the perishable food you still have and helps you sell the rest of it so it doesn't spoil. He offers to help you pack, but he mostly just sits on the bed as he watches you pack your clothes, his sight watching your every move and every fold.

He mostly keeps his hands busy with work until he gets to put them on you, holding you so close to him you think you'll bruise and your aunt's maids will notice when they help you dress. He takes you everywhere he can. On your bed, on your sofa, on your stable, on your dining table again. On the floor of the kitchen when you were stubborn enough to attempt to clean up one night. On the back of your wagon after you sold your remaining supplies in Valentine.

"Someone will see us, Arthur." You whispered as you tried desperately not to come apart.

"Let them,” he dared as he sank inside you again, his own limit verging forward. "Let them see how pretty you are for me."

----

The last day is more emotional than you imagined. None of you speak much, the palpable tension hanging in the air like uninvited mist. You finish packing your bags, tidying up the rest of the house so you can find everything in its place when you return. Arthur is absent most of the day but you figure he must be close by as Titus remains at the stable. You're unsure of what he's doing but you realize how upset he must be if he doesn't even want to be with you. The soup you serve for lunch is as cold as the look he gives you, a man clearly dreading the change about to come.

Your chores are finished as the afternoon begins to unwind, the whole time dreadful as you both loathe the upcoming goodbye. Arthur shows up when you finish placing your bags on the porch, offering to hoist them up to the wagon now led by your mare Amber. You'll leave her to the care of the Valentine farrier until you return.

A bittersweet feeling invades you when you walk through your house one last time before you leave, making sure your windows are closed and the lamps are put out. Every room is flooded with memories of the irresistible time you've had with Arthur, one that is so regretfully about to end. You close the door on your now darkened house and you wonder how different everything will be when you open it again.

Despite his obvious sorrow, Arthur helps you climb the wagon, caressing your elbow once you're settled. "I'll come round here every once in a while. Make sure it remains closed."

His promise to guard your home is comforting and you smile at him, both as a thank you and as a hint to kiss you. But he shies away and mounts Titus instead, leading you out of your yard and into the road of a reality where your dazzling affair ceases to be.

The ride to Valentine is mostly silent, or at least one-sided as you attempt to tell him of your aunt and uncle's burgeoning life in Saint Denis. You barely get a response out of him, his short replies muffled by the raucous of the wheels of the wagon. You're almost at your destination when he utters his most verbose reply yet.

"Those rich folk in Saint Denis… Don't let them change you."

"I won't."

He nods his head swiftly at your affirmation, the leather of his hat shining with the last rays of the parting sun.

It's dusk when the muddy trails of Valentine slow down your wagon, making the trip to the hotel vexing. Arthur drops off your bags at your assigned room before you both head to the farrier, where you woefully say goodbye to Amber. You leave with the farrier's word that he'll take good care of her and you believe him as he begins to count the money you pay him in advance for his service.

Arthur invites you for dinner at the saloon before you retire to the hotel, paying for both your meals despite your insistence to do so. The ambiance is rather noisy as the pianist plays away and the town's drunkards begin to gather at the bar. Both of you eat quickly to leave before the unavoidable ruckus of the night begins.

When the door of your hotel room closes, both of your spirits are solemn and hushed, the tension of the day dragging inside, festering along with the dread of saying goodbye. Arthur stands by the door unlatching his belt before he sits on a chair, watching as you pretend to busy yourself with arranging the luggage, waiting for word on what to do next. You feel his eyes follow your every move, shifting in his seat as he tries to gather the courage to say something. But the impasse drags on as you keep avoiding him, afraid that his heartbroken gaze might break you. You fiddle with the dress you plan on wearing tomorrow, kneeling down on the floor as the tension between you grows to a suffocating standstill, neither of you prepared to end the affair between you.

After a moment that seems to last forever, you feel Arthur’s heavy feet on the floor as he moves towards you, his knees then sinking next to yours on the floor, his hands grabbing you by the hips, his chest warm against the curve of your back. Instead of speaking a single word, his lips find the crook of your neck, getting it wet with the start of his goodbye. You lean back into him to welcome his touch as you realize this is the start of what could be the last time he holds you like you belong together.

His lips busy themselves with whatever part of your skin they can find as you feel his hands roam among your peaks and your valleys, ruffling the cloth that keeps him from kissing the rest of your body. You clutch the side of his thighs as you open yourself to his advances, your head falling on his shoulder as his hands work their way south to pull up your skirt. A stifled groan leaves your throat when he glides through the inside of your legs, warming you up to the sin about to come.

Instead of leaving your thighs, his hands tighten around them, pulling you closer to him as he plants a hungry kiss at your collarbone, now grinding himself against your skirt, your nails clawing at his jeans. You’re lost in the euphoria of the moment as his arms flex and he suddenly picks you up from the ground, your legs going limp as you surrender to his brute tender force.

Before you know it he has you spreadeagled on the bed as he rises above you, his fingers gripping your waistband to remove your skirt in one swoop, returning again to remove your bloomers, the cold of the room hitting as your core and your wetness are exposed. Arthur looms, watching you for a moment before he gets on his knees again to begin kissing your inner thighs, staying on them for longer than you wish, hungry to be lavished but still dreading the departure. Impatient, you grab his hair with force to lead him to your center and he soon wraps his lips around your own, prying from you unadulterated bliss like always.

You are not sure if it’s because you are parting, or if it’s because he knows you so well by now, but your release comes faster than usual, leaving you a whimpering fool at the foot of the bed. Your feet steady on the edge of the mattress, your legs still shaking as you watch Arthur through them. He rises and undresses, his lips still shining with the taste of your cunt. He’s soon naked before you, working his arousal as your chest tries to settle, a futile effort as you realize you’ll soon be panting again.

The sweat still damps your brow when your eyes meet in tandem, the moment before either of you acts on the urge to surrender against each other. His throat contracts with the itch of desire as his hand still works, his feet bringing him closer to the bed. You unbutton the frivolity of your shirt, stripping yourself for him and exposing your breasts just as you expose your yearning for him. Your sore legs extend as you scooch higher into the bed, leaving them open for Arthur to ravish you.

Your eyes never part as he climbs the bed, his hands coming to caress your naked body as he pleases, starting on your knees, your thighs, your waist, your breasts. Like he’s trying to imprint in his mind what it feels like to touch you. His thumb travels up your throat with his usual softness, undercut only by the roughness of his calloused skin. He traces your jaw a few times before he dares to finally bend down to kiss you like it’s the first time. Or maybe the last.

Everything that happens next is both too slow and too fast at the same time as you begin to blend together. It’s both a bittersweet goodbye and an overjoyed gratitude for your time together. The perfect love affair that may never come again.

His kisses turn hungry but deep and slow, his body now overbearing you with the crushing weight of losing him, the only man that has ever made love to you rather than possess you. Your hands pull him closer to you, roaming his physique for a possible way to make him fused into you so you can never let him go. But there is still a part of you that aches for him to go deeper.

His full size is hot rubbing against your stomach, tantalizing you with the remaining part of him he still has to give you. You moan into him as his tongue delights with yours, your hips undulating against each other, rocking the flame of hot desire running through you both, itching to burn into ashes. Your hand slides down from his chiseled back, entering the tight space between you, soon finding a way to the hard pulse of his member. Your fingers resume his efforts to excite him, his mouth opening in surprise as it still wraps around yours, trying to swallow you as he tries to contain his elation. Your hand is steady, enough to get him to open his eyes so he can see yours, begging him to slide down so he can enter you once more.

His strong hands are quick to grab the thickness of your thighs, placing them beside his hips as he positions himself between them, his erection now pressed against the lips he has kissed countless times in the past months. He rubs himself against your folds, tantalizing you with the depth of ecstasy your whole soul desires, eager to feel him pulse inside you, a feeling to be recalled once you're back on your own. His hands settle close to your buttocks as he angles himself down, prodding your entrance with eagerness in his proud but roaming eyes.

The stretch is pondered as usual, perhaps even slower as somehow you feel it more achingly, your body coming alive with the tip of his carnality, soon devoured by breathlessness as he settles deep within you. His chest is high above yours before he moves to close the gap, his lungs soon reverberating atop your breasts, his hands now holding onto your shoulders to finish his burial. A somber pause follows as you look into each other's eyes, closer than two bodies could ever be, the silence only broken by the beating of aching hearts, now realizing the time has come to end their unwanted goodbye.

The sad realization is only broken by your mutual restlessness, the will to finish what you started. The first roll of Arthur's hip comes as natural as the tears forming in your eyes, which manage to escape after a few more of his thrusts. As he picks up the pace, somehow holding you in his arms as you hold him in yours, the sex seems miraculously paced, not too fast so you can’t savor it, not too slow that you can’t quiver with every move. The perfect farewell of an imperfect romance.

The bittersweet rhapsody is only broken when Arthur suddenly speaks.

"Come back to me, missy." Another crash of your hips. "Come back to me."

The weight of his words is not lost even as you start to lose control. In fact, they seem to unravel you faster as you realize his desire for you runs as deep as yours for him. His complete surrender to worship your body and his fixed gaze on you tells you he means it. He keeps his tempo steady to inch you closer and closer to another heavenly release, struggling hard to contain his own. You watch as his muscles flex in restraint, his eyes adamant to watch you unfold into expected bliss, his member repeatedly crashing into your sensitive spot. You try to savor the high as much as you can, wishing it could go on forever, but it becomes unbearable to hold it in. You have no choice but to surrender to Arthur’s parting wish to see you come for him.

You hope that one day you’ll be able to grant him his wish to come back.

----

Valentine grows incredibly quiet once the noise from the saloon quiets down, the night perfectly still for a few hours before the sun breaks, the perfect lullaby to fall asleep. But when the dawn comes, the racket on the street below your hotel window gradually wakes you up as you lie on your side of the bed. The other side is empty.

Arthur’s belongings are gone, his clothes no longer crumpled by the foot of the bed, his gun belt no longer hung by the door. But his aroma lingers behind and you inch closer to his pillow to bury your nose in it. The image of him reaching his peak flashes in your mind, his mouth agape, his eyes strained. You feel the faint sensation of his cock still buried inside you, your walls clenching at the memory. The sheets are stained with his sweat, which left behind a musky smell, now the only evidence of his passion for you during the night. He held you in his arms for a long while after your romp, but neither of you uttered a word, knowing full well there was no better way to say goodbye. You looked into his piercing longing eyes before you fell asleep to the lulling of your quiet valentine.

His absence this morning tells you how hard this is for him. He’d rather abandon a comfortable bed with your naked body than watch you leave, unsure if you’re ever returning to your side of the bed. You can’t tell how he slipped out so quietly, his footsteps are always as heavy as his build. Perhaps he tiptoed until he left the room, scared he’d beg you to stay if he saw you awake. Or maybe the sex left you so satiated your sleep was deeper than his escape, maybe clanging his boots loudly on the floor in the hopes that he’d wake you.

You want nothing else but to seclude yourself under the covers, shielded from the outer world with nothing but the memories of Arthur to keep you company. But by the way the sun begins to shine you can tell it must be a little before seven, so you must not have much time before you are to be ready. You stay still for a few more minutes, his pillow still underneath you, the duvet entangled on your legs as if they were his own. His words still ring in your ears. Come back to me.

Getting dressed is easy even if the dress is not, something more formal so you can enter Saint Denis in a more reputable fashion. Your aunt ought to love the paleness of its blue. It can’t take you more than half an hour to have everything ready, your luggage and your hat ready to put on by the door. You figure you still have a while before your carriage arrives. You give in to the craving of laying back down on the bed, thinking of him right where he had you. You don’t remember closing your eyes when a knock on the door rouses you and you’re still yawning as you go down the stairs, your last piece of luggage being carried by your driver. The smell of Valentine hits your nose as soon as you step outside and you become fully awake.

The carriage is small but very comfortable, the cushions soft but sturdy enough for a long voyage. Since you’ll be traveling alone, there’s room enough to stretch your legs and sleep sideways. But only after the stink of the town stays behind. For now, you think you’ll read the novel that has sat by your nightstand for the past months, untouched since the day a stranger stole an apple from your yard.

As soon as the carriage starts moving you know you’re not gonna be able to read, the words soon becoming blurry by the sway of the wagon. You look outside the window as the farrier comes into view and you hope to get a glimpse of your mare Amber but all you see are brown and black horses inside. She must be kept on the other side of the stable. The Valentine mud gets stickier as the road continues, but the buildings get scarcer and the smell quells once you cross the railroad track.

Nothing but thoughts sit with you inside the car. Thoughts of your aunt and uncle and their faces when they see you arrive, the sweet tender moments you’ll have in the upcoming weeks. Thoughts of a classier life in Saint Denis and how much you’ll miss the perfect solitude of your cabin, the magical stillness of the nature that surrounds it. Thoughts of your husband and the disgust that comes with them, a bitter ache that you might see him again, a painful reminder of a loveless marriage that you’d like to escape.

But more than any other thoughts, thoughts of Arthur. Thoughts of the months you have spent together crowd your every inch as you recall moments you’ve shared, embraces you’ve exchanged, kisses you’ve borrowed, passion you’ve stolen. A lover you’ve earned. He has made you come alive again and again and suddenly it hits you how vital he has been in your life. It’s no longer a question of how much you’ll miss him but how much it’ll hurt to be apart from him. It’s a question of how long your heart will ache while the muscles of your body still recall the respite of his healing touch. Will it be long enough for you to reach Saint Denis? Will you make it there and still feel him on you? Are you doomed to feel him forever? Has the memory of his lips turned into unending despair? The New Haven scenery stretches out before you but your eyes see a blank veil as the wheels of your mind turn in fallen sorrow, crippling thoughts consuming you, setting you on a ride to remember.

The ruminating of your mind is broken when the carriage suddenly slows, stalling when two men on horseback cross the intersecting road. You look out to the right side window and see the edge of the woods. A dead tree stands out, half broken as it lays snapped in half on the ground. The gentlemen emerge from view as they make their way past the carriage. The first is a sullen man, his face covered in deep scars that make him even more menacing. The second is Arthur Morgan.

It’s as if he materializes from your thoughts, as if he knew you needed to see him again. You try hard not to blink for fear he’ll scurry from you again. He slows his horse steadily, his eyes never leaving yours once he finds them, his chest immobile despite the breath he takes as he watches you pass, his leather gloves tightening the grip on the reins. In a few microseconds you feel your throat close and your hands going limp, your body and your soul dumbstruck by the mere sight of your lover.

You both remain still as you watch each other pass, frozen by the flames of passion still burning between you. A few seconds feel like hours as the carriage turns on the road, until suddenly his figure disappears from your window. You snap, swiftly turning your head to look out of the back window, your knees steady to hold you in position as you stare at him once more. His position has moved to watch you leave, his own horse wondering whether he should follow behind you.

But it’s his eyes. His unyielding radiant eyes strike you mad, his irises fixed on your own like he’s trying to tell you something.

Something only you can decipher. Something only you can fulfill.

Come back to me, missy.

Come back to me.

-

A/N: The next chapter should be out soon enough. It has been written in my head for months now. It is after all, the reason why I made this fic in the first place…

[omgthatdress]

Everything I know about the royals comes from Tumblr memes and one bonus episode of a totally unrelated podcast but now I'm morbidly curious, so: what's up with William? And the Middletons? Or if that's a longer story than you want to explain, do you have recommendations for where to read about this that is likely to be fairly accurate?

I don't have any facts I just have pure fucking speculation if that's okay. :)

Like I've been saying for a long-ass time the one thing I absolutely LOVED about The Crown was its portrayal of generational trauma. It very skillfully showed how being a shitty husband who cheats on his wife and treats his kids like garbage was passed down from Prince Andrew of Greece and Denmark to Prince Phillip, Duke of Edinburgh to King Charles and then to Prince William. Hell, it probably started long before that but holy shit THE CYCLE OF DYSFUNCTION AND ABUSE BE REPEATING ITSELF.

And if you really want to dig into it, well.... I think he and Harry followed a pattern that a LOT of siblings of bitter and messy divorce fall into, one kid sides with the mom, one with the dad. It's been said a LOT that Harry was Diana's favorite son, so it probably started with that. And OF COURSE William is gonna side with Charles because well... he's the heir. They have that shared trauma.

And then there's the way the whole "heir and spare" thing absolutely perverts any relationship they might have had as brothers. Charles managed to have a decent relationship with his siblings, I think, because first of all, Anne was a girl, and then Andrew and Edward were significantly younger than him and Anne, so there wasn't this unnaturally massive imbalance of power between them. One of the reasons I've come to believe the monarchy should be abolished is because of how badly it damages the structure of a family in a way that no one should have to deal with.

I think Diana might have been able to guide William into being a better person if she'd have lived, but idk. It may be wishful thinking. His relationship with her became kind of strained when he was a teenager and she was going on TV to tell the whole fucking world about her sex life. I think Diana did the right thing exposing the family like she did, but I can also understand how a 13 year old boy would be absolutely humiliated by that.

THEN there's the whole way he was a MASSIVE heartthrob as a teenager, and was intensely sexualized for it. Like it will absolutely mess with you when you have girls screaming and throwing themselves at you when you're still trying to figure your own sexuality out. It will also massively inflate your ego and convince you that the whole world loves you and there's nothing you can do wrong.

SOOOOOO

as for his relationship with Kate. She's much harder to pin down because she hasn't spent her entire fucking life in the spotlight, and the Middletons are sill granted a certain degree of privacy that the Windsors aren't. I don't think they're as absolutely fucked up as Diana's family was but I still definitely think her mom was a major driving force behind her staying with William.

I think there actually was some initial mutual attraction and that they may have even actually been in love. Buuuut then he waited ten years to propose to her, during which he cheated and they broke up and got back together. Honestly, I don't know what Kate's damage was with all of that, whether or not she was able to convince herself that William wouldn't be another shitty husband, or if she was willing to put up with his bullshit if it meant she would be queen.

Diana was more or less picked out as a bride for Charles because it was assumed that she would be a meek and beautiful wifey who never caused any problems. I mean, she was 19 and he was 32 for fuck's sake. She very much wanted to be queen. BUT what everyone wasn't counting on was that Diana would *gasp* have some serious emotional needs. She was deeply traumatized by her own parents' incredibly bitter divorce, overwhelmed and deeply lonely in her position as princess, and on top of that, suffering from bulimia and then post-natal depression. She needed love and support and Charles spent the whole marriage balls deep in Camilla.

Kate had a much more stable upbringing and had more than a few months to get to know both William and what her role as a princess would be. Ultimately, the vibe I get from her is that she's willing to be the perfect meek beautiful wifey who puts up with William's bullshit if it means she can be royal, which is exactly what Diana was supposed to be.

And I don't mean that to knock or belittle her. She's good at it. She looks incredibly happy when she's doing that. It's her career. It's an exchange I can actually really understand making, especially when your only other prospects involved working for your parents' party company.

But I could be extremely wrong about all of this Maybe she's absolutely miserable but she feels like she has no other options and worried about losing her kids and is terrified of what happened to Diana. It's hard to know, and I wish The Crown would have at least committed to *something* rather than just brushing all of this off.

[tired-fandom-ndn]

i do like imagining oisin trying to make a good impression with the family by remembering their names

but its damn near impossible because theyre mostly a bunch of elves who names all start with “a” and despite being different, are at the same time similar but still different, where you cant quite get it on the first try

that mixed with the fact his elvish aint that fucking good prior to making fallinel a frequent place to visit

and eventually one of grandma’s (i know she has a name but i cant remember it, amatherial?, idk) kids pulls him aside and says something along the lines of

“we appreciate you trying but truly i think it’s impossible because even i dont know some of their names at times. but we all love each other, except those dim witted fucks that our adaine and aelwyn had for parents those fuckers we hate and are glad theyre dead and dont inhabit this plane of existence anymore, and that’s what matters.”

[context]

(Very close on grandma's name, it was Amarthriel!)

Yes yes, this is so good anon and exactly what I was thinking of! Oisin would try soooooo hard to learn the name of every single one of Adaine's family members because he wants to impress her AND not embarrass himself in front of her family but it's not possible.

Adaine and Aelwyn give him a 10 page guide with the names of every single person and how they're all related, and the other Rat Grinders all help him make flash cards and study with him. Ruben sincerely tries to help with the studying, but Kipperlilly and Lucy are the only ones who are actually helpful; Ivy makes it a million times harder by making fun of him and adding fake names to the flashcards and Mary Ann is just sorta there doing her own thing.

And yet, the moment he actually gets to the reunion, all that studying goes right out the fucking window. He spent HOURS practicing names in front of a mirror (with Kipperlilly spraying him with a water bottle when he got one wrong) and all that practice was useless because the moment he opens his mouth, not a single name comes out correctly. When he actually gets someone's name correct (which is very rare), he stumbles over the pronunciation so much that it's basically incomprehensible. Some of the words that come out are instead deeply offensive elvish swears.

At one point Oisin successfully identifies a distant cousin with an extremely long name. Unfortunately, while trying to pronounce his name, Oisin manages to say that that particular cousin's mother looked like a giant bat and he was promptly cussed out in a language he could barely understand.

Amarthriel steps in because she likes him and is thrilled about his relationship with Adaine and it really would be a shame for him to be brutally murdered by one of her grandchildren for accidentally insulting their entire family line. And yeah, there is not a single person at that reunion who can actually name more than 20 other people there; even Amarthriel, the matriarch of the family, only remembers the names of her siblings, children, and her favorite grandchildren (namely Adaine and Aelwyn).

[blobbycentral]

Puppets of the Gods

(Aka that one AU where the Cookies of Darkness get possessed by the beasts)

Get ready, this’ll be a long one

The AU starts with Dark Enchantress and main group of the Cookies of Darkness (Pomegranate, Poison Mushroom, Licorice, Red Velvet, and Affogato) heading to the great tree for an audience with the beasts. In this audience, the beasts demand cookie bodies like they do in game. Dark Enchantress though, instead of making new cookie bodies from scratch, offers up her subordinates as vessels and the plot begins.

(Yes that is a paper bag on his head and no I will not answer why the paper bag is grey)

SILENT SALT COOKIE

Silent Salt and Burning Spice fought over who would get the guy with the massive sword and arm. Since Burning Spice was too busy arguing with Silent Salt, they ended up getting Red Velvet instead. He’s not a terrible body to host. Strong. Nice sword. Quiet. Though he could get over the cake monster things. Silent Salt is allowed to take out whatever they want.

RED VELVET COOKIE

As a loyal member of the Cookies of Darkness, he accepted the possession, practically welcomed it. Well… he did. I mean sure Silent Salt isn’t the worse to be possessed by. He’s seen Affogato’s and Licorice’s state. It’s just… so quiet. Too quiet. He’s locked in this mind space watching Silent Salt wreck his life’s work and hurt anything that comes in their way. Maybe if Dark Enchantress knew what was going on she would help… if only he could find a way out.

BURNING SPICE COOKIE

If Silent Salt wasn’t such a big fat paper bag, Burning Spice would’ve gotten Red Velvet. But noooo he had to get the other brat with a big scythe. Licorice Cookie or whatever his name is, he’s frail, bratty and won’t shut up or stop escaping. It sucksssssssss. At least he hates Mystic Flour’s vessel as much as Burning Spice hates Mystic Flour!

LICORICE COOKIE

Alright, maybe this makes Licorice Cookie not the most loyal Cookie of Darkness but he HATES BURNING SPICE! If he had his diary (which Burning Spice looked through btw) he would be scribbling so much the paper would be soaked in pen. Everyday he and him argue and argue about what to do. It’s not Licorice’s fault that this man doesn’t know a spell book from a piece of toilet paper! Ugh… he just needs to find a way out.

MYSTIC FLOUR COOKIE

Pomegranate Cookie is loyal and quiet like a good pet. Her hair is annoying to deal with. They spent hours just trying to figure out how to take it out of those buns. Then there's her whole obsession on Dark Enchantress Cookie. Sinful and annoying. Does she not understand caring is a waste of energy? Alas

POMEGRANATE COOKIE

She knew of her master's grand plan since Dark Enchantress thought of it. She gave up herself as soon as Dark Enchantress gave out the order. She did everything Mystic Flour said just as Dark Enchantress had ordered her to do. She sat by and let Mystic Flour destroy her room, clothes, mirror— she’ll sit silently and let all happen. She can’t let her master down even if it destroys everything.

SHADOW MILK COOKIE

You know, he’d prefer Pure Vanilla. He’s more fun to toy around with! This dumb one is such a boreeee. Traumatize him once and he’s all like “I’m emo and sad and stay quiet in the mind space” it ain’t t all bad. Having a body is just soooooo much fun! He gets to play with cookies for real now! The world will remember how fun he was ;D

AFFOGATO COOKIE

When Dark Enchantress Cookie offered up the Cookies of Darkness, Affogato Cookie ran. He was barely a member anyways! He shouldn’t have to be puppeted like a worthless… well.. puppet. It doesn’t matter anymore. Shadow Milk knows everything and just how to screw with his head. He hates it. Makes him want to go back to the hell of the Dark Cacao kingdom.

ETERNAL SUGAR COOKIE

She wanted the pretty girl to be her vessel! Not some kid! Sure she was a little slow on pickings but still! They just sleep around and asks for bedtime stories and shroomies. What the actual oven is a shroomie anyways??

POISON MUSHROOM COOKIE

The pink lady is pretty. She reads them stories and snuggles them in her wings. It’d only be better if she had shroomies

And that’s all! If you have any questions feel free to ask! Thanks for reading!

[blade-that-was-broken]

For the soldier on AU, how do John's former squad mates react when they find out that he's been taken in by Bruce and is finally reconnecting with his family?

Depends on who it is.

Overall, they are really happy that John has been reunited with his brothers and that his brother took him in without fight. Like, they know very well that their estrangement was never either of the brother's fault or choice.

That being said, they are a family to him too (cept maybe Chaz, idk yet about him) and they are protective of one another.

Note: This is gonna get long... and as always, open to suggestions

PETE

Pete is retired and he's kind of an ass. When Bruce meets him, he doesn't know it's him and thinks he is either a bounty hunter after a criminal... or a criminal himself. It's a common misconception.

Pete also doesn't really care for Hawaii in general so there is that. He and Bruce do not get along, generally, and Bruce thinks he's condescending and a jackass. This is partially true. What Bruce doesn't quite realize is that Pete has a very certain way of showing affection and it is very difficult for others to understand it.

I'm not really sure how much Pete would come around but JD might eventually go and visit him. He'd live out in the middle of nowhere, probably either in the west/plains area of the U.S. or maybe the upper Midwest, idk yet. If JD did go visit him, Branch might come along or perhaps even one of his other brothers.

CHAZ

Chaz doesn't give a shit. At least not on behalf of JD. Those two do not get along. And I am not talking in a "siblings being assholes to one another" kind of way but a literal I would rather punch you till you're purple and never see you again if I could kind of way. This isn't one sided. They both don't like each other.

So IF Chaz ever met his family, which actually he might, he'd be kind of a manipulative jerk. Kind of that almost hypnotizing way of making JD's family like HIM over John's own company.

Which now that I think about it, that seems kind of on par with him, you know, with the whole "smooth jazz ruling" thing that he has in canon or even the tv series. So okay, chances, are he'll visit, mostly to be an annoying jerkface. And well, he's easy to get along with when he wants to be. He is hypnotic and charismatic and manipulative soooooo.... yeah....

It'll drive John nuts.

DICKORY

(Ft. Hickory)

Dickory is... apprehensive. Which is not abnormal for him. He has a way of looking at things and he is fairly naturally apprehensive and careful about people. Not people in general, but people close to the people he's close to.

Like, he's not careful about random people or even friends, but mostly friend's of friends and he also tends to look deeper into things, which makes him careful. This has something to do with him being naturally protective of the people he cares about. Or music. Ya know.

These people - John's brothers- are not the people that John knew when he was young - they are adults, with their own lives and all the things. They are different than how John remembers them and sometimes John seems to forget that. It's not entirely his fault, there's not much John can do about that. He's spent the last fifteen years kind of daydreaming about them sometimes.

However, Dickory knows how much this means to John - and how much these people mean to him - but he also has a lot of mixed feelings. He doesn't want JD to get hurt emotionally more than he already has with the time and forced estrangement. There is also the thing about none of the other brothers ever even attempting to try and find John that makes Dickory once again, apprehensive. He's protective - of yodeling, his brother, and his best friend - and so it can make him seem kind of mean to the others.

The only one who gets a pass with this is Branch due to his age and how he was far too young to really hold any concrete memories, although Dickory is practically heartbroken when he hears that Branch was never even told of JD's existence growing up. That makes him kind of dislike the brothers even more. It takes him quite a bit of time to warm up to them.

But since Dickory is John's best friend, the brothers do make an effort to try and get on his good side. I think Floyd and perhaps Clay kind of want to have his "approval" or whatever.

Hickory, on the other hand, jumps at the chance to befriend people. He and JD get along just fine and whenever Dick and JD are stateside and JD stays with Dickory nad his family, Hickory has been known to tag along. The brother's parents rather like JD too, he's always interested in whatever they have to say and the food they make. They also have this thing about yodeling. JD cannot do it well but he is always one to hear it. They trust JD to protect Dickory (even tho Dick is older) and aren't exactly like parental figures to JD but kind of a view on what parents are kind of supposed to be like.

Hickory thinks that JD will help him convince Dickory that Hickory joining the military is a good idea. He's not correct, as JD would never betray his friend in that manner. Anyways, when Dickory and eventually Hickory, meet John's family, Hickory is super excited. He's heard some things about them and he is very happy for JD that they have found him. He's not nearly as apprehensive and stoic in this manner as his older brother but faltered just a little bit when he found out Branch didn't know about JD. He's kind of between the age bracket with Floyd and Branch. He actually ends up kind of getting along with Floyd a bit but the brother outside of JD that he bonds with is actually Bruce. He loves running around the resort and playing with Bruce's kids. He's never had a younger brother or younger cousins or anything so he is rather fond of it.

Hickory does meet Tresillo probably. Not sure how they are going to be yet or if they get along. Tresillo is a bit more of Branch's friend so there is also that.

TRESILLO

Okay, I'm not entirely sure how this is all going to go.

It takes a while for Tresillo to go visit John. He feels guilty and even that John wouldn't want to see him (logically he knows JD doesn't blame him but the brain sometimes be that way) and I'm not even sure how he finds out where John is or how he gets to Hawaii to see him.

Tresillo absolutely LOVES that John has found his family again. At the same time, he kind of loathes it too.

Because if John has his real family now, what is the rest of them to him? What is Tresillo to him now? Does he matter anymore? Was Tresillo just kind of a stand in for one of his younger brothers?

These fears are quelled when he does face John in Hawaii. The guilt feelings don't entirely go away but he is made extremely aware that John absolutely does not blame him and the moment John sees him, it's like nothing has changed. He introduces him to whoever is there (probably at least Bruce) and since Bruce has heard plenty about Tresillo already, he kind of has an idea of how things work and how they are.

Bruce and Tresillo get along fairly well. They both like to cook and Tresillo is very interested in learning to surf. After he leaves the military, he will definitely grow out his hair to be more like canon but in the military, it's probably short at this point. It is entirely possible that Tresillo would try to get himself and his sister over to Hawaii at some point. This would be after Tresillo really feels like part of their family. He is a little apprehensive and awkward around Bruce's children, but he can usually sidetrack them with his dance moves and linguistic speaking skills.

Although Tresillo is closer to Floyd in age, he ends up bonding with Branch instead. He teaches him to dance and Branch takes it up real quick. They talk about their families and growing up a bit lonely, even with siblings, and do a lot of things together. Surprisingly, Tresillo doesn't feel super awkward with Branch or vice versa, despite the age gap, but then again, neither of them really had much in the way of friends their own age growing up either. Tresillo and Branch learn a lot about traps and Tresillo teaches him Spanish and they make things together sometimes. Mostly Branch making things. Tresillo is one of the first people who find out about Branch's crush on Poppy and kind of becomes Branch's wingman when he can. Tresillo gets his own crush on girl, which might be another reason he may move to Hawaii as well.

He's still a work in progress with things.

DELTA DAWN

His partner in crime/the law, his girl, his bff, right hand gal, go - to girl, all the things. These two are tight. Sometimes it's hard for people to really see it, since Delta sometimes has a tendency to be a little uptight and not fun, to some people, but there is something about the two of them just balance each other out. They are a fantastic team that definitely got some attention from higher ups, which led to them being stationed together - and then within the same squad when in an active-ish war zone. Growly Pete might have been the oldest with seniority, but Delta and JD were the ones that led the squad and kept them together.

Anyways, Delta comes when she can to Hawaii. She wasn't there when the accident happened and sometimes blames herself a little bit for not being there. As if she could have stopped or something. Once again, logically, she understands this is ridiculous but she's very close to her squad, JD in particular, and with them being such a close team, each other's faults tend to be shouldered as their own (this goes both ways).

Delta is extremely happy for John that he is reunited with his brothers. She has far less of the apprehension of Dickory and the assholeness of Pete, although she is very disappointed in his brothers that their families/friends don't know about him. It was like he had been erased from their lives and that breaks her heart.

Delta and Bruce generally get along. She's very grateful that Bruce took him in right away, Delta is helpful and dedicated and not bad of a cook. Bruce is unconvinced that Delta and JD don't harbor feelings for one another but after some awkward conversations and encounters, he doesn't say much about it, just kind of gives them weird glances. Bruce, however, is rather jealous of her hair. He's got some great hair but he also works at it. Delta... works less. However, they do kind of bond over this a bit. Delta is pretty good with the kids too, although not quite as much as John. She's very used to one crazy child - not several lol

Brandy and Delta get along very well and they talk quite a bit. They keep in contact with one another a lot and become pretty close friends. They do a lot of woman-typical things that Delta hasn't been able to do much of. She also goes to Brandy for advice when it comes to her sister and Claudia/Clampers.

Clay is kind of intimidated by Delta a little bit. Not entirely sure why - I don't even know if he's entirely sure why.

Floyd loves Delta's voice and immediately wanted to do a song with her. She's a little wigged out by it but flattered too. This is kind of how they bond, through music and such. I'm not sure on their relationship yet since I don't know what Floyd is as much like in this au yet. Suggestions, as always, welcome.

Branch goes through a short phase of being a bit jealous of Delta. He has, historically, not been very close with people/had friends/ been able to connect with others. John is one of the first that he really feels like he can be himself around, enjoys his company and connects with. Seeing Delta and how close she is with John, well, part of it dislikes how easy it is for them and part of him feels a little robbed. Delta has gotten to spend well over a decade being friends with John and Branch has only been able to start. He feels almost behind.

it's mostly when Delta goes out of her way to befriend Branch, that this starts to go away. Delta tries to bond and befriend all of the brothers. John is a huge part of her life - and always will be - and she wants to be involved, she wants his family to like her. Branch is absolutely no different. This helps their relationship and Branch's feelings. One; she might recognize a bit of how she's feeling. Two; he sees her as actually wanting to be his friend instead of just doing it because of John. Three; he really starts to see how different John and Delta's relationship is with each other rather than with Branch.

So they end up getting along fairly well. They are both pretty outdoorsy, just like John so the three of them will go on hikes, biking, camping, etc. But she also teaches him a bit of other things and they learn things together. It gets to the point where they will keep in contact, call and/or Skype each other. There is a bit of slight jealousy on John's part too at one point, but he also loves how they are getting along too.

These are just the squad mates I have right now but there are spots that are applicable to be filled so suggestions are welcome.

I know that was super long so if you got to the end of this, have a cookie lol

[desceros]

Okay I have something of a long post/ask/critical analysis of Symphony AU that I want to address. you're free to ignore it if I'm just spouting off insane copium. Or whatever you want to do with it lol. This is more about the turtles that about the Violist.

First I'm gonna talk about Donnie because he's arguably the easiest one to talk about. And take less time. He spent at the very least 15 years of his life knowing exactly five people, three brothers, his dad, and a bestie/pseudo big sister. They're all people who completely understand/grew up with him. And he's used to people adapting to his needs without having to say anything because he's, well, they're brother/son. Speaking from a purely canon standpoint in Rise you can see it, Raph refuses to tell Donnie they hate his gifts because it'll crush him. Stuff like that. Leo calling him a "weirdo" doesn't really mean much of anything considering he's Donnie's brother, and this is about pineapple on pizza.

This is all to say I see how Donnie just didn't bother communicating this was all for his touch experiment. As far as he's basically aware, she already knew. He wasn't going to read between the lines because he'd grown accustomed to the way his brothers, April, and dads act. Which, in hindsight, bit him in the ass because the violist literally doesn't know him aside from "purple turtle science man".

So. I get him. I get where he's coming from even if it ended up kinda fucking up the violist. That's all part of the learning curve of knowing people who don't already know who you are and whatever.

Now for Leo, maybe this is REALLY just me on my copium life support but I see where he's coming from too. Again, when you look at it from a canon lens I see where Leo is coming from. He's always been protective of his family, even more so than Raph at points. He didn't trust Big Mama immediately, even though the rest of his brothers did. He was perfectly willing and happy to DIE IN THE PRISON DIMENSION to keep his family safe. Like, let's not forget he, as well as the others, has a ton of unchecked trauma that he's definitely not willing to address to anyone. A decade of unaddressed trauma will do things to someone's psyche, intentionally or not. The guilt of almost killing his brothers has been festering inside him for over a decade now, this doesn't really seem entirely like a "my brother touches you and not me >:(" thing.

The way I see it Leo's acting out because he's actually just terrified of someone hurting his family again. It's definitely not okay, and it's condemnable. But as someone who's done some pretty fucked shit when I was dealing with my depression before meds, I've been Leo before. That man needs help, and fast.

We've also seen, from Symphony AU that he's mostly accepted the violist as part of the family now. The comments he makes about her being "Donnie's toy" are, again, things he seems to be saying to get a rise out of Donnie. We know he's been doing that for a while. And I wouldn't really put it past him for continuing to try and do it now that Donnie's not allowed to do his experiments anymore.

I had a way better way of wording this last night but I ended up watching TMNT 1987 instead but to summarize my thoughts, I sympathize with both Leo and Donnie and don't believe either of them are irredeemable monsters. If I'm somehow wrong about Leo and this is all just conduit to getting Donnie and the violist together then I'm gonna be so :(. Mafuyu Main Story chapter 14 even.

Or, again, maybe I'm just coping lol.

oh i'm all about symphony copium. breathe deep, anon-chan, hahahaha

aaaaand in true desceros fashion this got way too long so i'm tucking it under a cut. rolls eyes at myself soooooo hard

you're largely correct, though i will specify that for donnie it's not that he "didn't bother" to communicate what he thought was going on, so much as he thought he did.

i invite you-slash-everyone to read this passage from when the agreement was struck to see what i mean. i've removed all of viola-chan's thoughts and interpretations for you, and left you with just the core of the conversation, color-coded for clarity on who's speaking:

“We have… exhausted the limits of touching that I would perform with most people.”  [...] “…What do you mean?”  “I mean that all of the myriad mechanical touches I have experienced so far in my life, we’ve covered together. [...] I’ve become completely enured to them all, so long as you’re the one doing them. There is, of course, an obvious next step, but I wanted to discuss it before we begin.”  “To… touches you haven’t done?” [...] “Correct." [...] “I… don’t understand." [...] “I’m referring to more… intimate touches. We’ve… already been pushing at the boundary a bit, so I wanted to be very specific and clear." [...]

“I… take it you don’t scent your brothers.” “No, I don’t." [...] “Donnie, I—[...] I like you. You know that, right?”  “You aren’t very good at hiding it, no. [...] I, of course, like you as well, though I’d like to think that has been well demonstrated over our time together.”

[...]"…Intimate touches. [...] Like… what, petting? Kissing? Sex? What are we talking about, exactly?”  “All of it, ideally. [...] I’m quite curious to study how I’ll react, especially considering the whole touch aversion situation.” [...] “…Do… Do you wanna try it? [...] …Us, together, I mean?”  [...] “Really? With… With me?” [...] “Of course, I—[...]Donnie, I… of course. I’d be stupid to say no, right?” “Oh, that’s such a relief. [...] I’ve been making spreadsheets of things I’ve wanted to try for several days and wondering how best to bring it up, especially considering—well. It’s quite helpful that you did so yourself. Excellent work, consultant.” [...] “Well, I’d like to amend our agreement on how turtle time is going to go, from now on in light of all this, [...] We’re partners, now, so we have to take care of each other. [...]” “[...]Very well. If those are your terms for partnership, I accept.”

see how differently it reads without viola-chan's thoughts staining it? stripped of her thoughts, you can easily see where the miscommunication happened. other than a few incidental pieces of dialogue that don't affect the meaning of the convo, this is it.

in donnie's mind, he and viola-chan were very much on the same page. "partnership". "agreement". these are words that viola-chan uses. when he refers to spreadsheets, she just rolls with it. as far as he's concerned, they're talking about a scientific study here. he did communicate, and well. it's just... viola-chan put things there that he didn't. and that's not her fault, because at this point she hasn't picked up on how to communicate with donnie yet. and it's completely rational to assume, when discussing sex and romance and hearing someone say "i like you"--and then going on to kiss and have sex with that person--that it's a romantic relationship. as stated in the fic, my personal opinion (which to be clear, as someone who stands on death of the author, this *is* just my opinion) neither of them did the other ill. they literally just didn't know how to communicate yet. so i 100% agree with you on being able to see donnie's side of this. i have another long-ass ask somewhere in the meta tag discussing the lack of socializing specifically, if you're curious for more of my thoughts on that.

i also agree with you largely with the leo portion of your analysis. i... can't go into as much detail on his side of things, but rest assured that before everything is over, viola-chan and leo are going to have more than one conversation. and the two of them, despite everything, really do mesh well and talk about things, so it'll be a satisfying resolution, i think.

anyway WOW that got way too long but teal deer, i agree and love deep meta-analysis of my stuff so don't apologize in the slighest, yeehaw

[scuderlia]

haircut!anon again: ok. wow. had to slam my phone down in my uni computer lab and wait until i could string together a coherent thought again. first off like au itself on back burner your MIND and the way you construct this narrative is INCREDIBLE and so raw adn true and pulling on the queer (as in deviant and as in gay) hair experince sooo deeply i feel soooooo deeply you are a magician. further. i was PICTURING max in braids and god fuck the tenderness of charles and max setting their mise en place and sitting together and braiding her hair before their prey comes in…. god. jesus. i can't stop re-reading the snippets. FUCK! sorry this isn't coherent thoughts after all. max and control and cutting charles' hair. fuck me uppp….

anon! i spent so long smiling like an idiot because of this ask, at this point you're basically my betrothed <3

but yeah, you get it. at the core of max and charles' relationship is truly their hounded devotion and acceptance of one another. the queer experience really is defined by those you hold close, and it's been interesting (for me) to try and thread that idea through this greater story about desire and hunger in a way that feels genuine. i've pulled on a lot of my personal experiences of being a young lesbian and being guarded about sexuality, but ultimately it all comes back to (like you mentioned) the idea of relinquishing some control and feeling comfortable enough with someone to let go of the safety of doing things alone.

i also love love love giving characters their own little rituals, and seeing as how max and charles both have a lot of emotional connections to their hair/haircuts/etc. the braids were an easy decision.

(more about max and her relationship to hair below the cut)

there's this really interesting article by Amelia Abraham titled 'What butch queer identity has to do with hair' that got put out by Dazed in 2022. it primarily covers a photography exhibition called Close Shave—which centers itself around butch haircuts and identity—but also goes into the cultural relevance of 'masc' hairstyles and their role in queer (mainly lesbian) expression.

i remembered and re-read it when i was in the early stages of fleshing-out max's character. i recommend the article to everyone, but especially people who are maybe looking to better understand the history of butch optics, and kind of where i'm coming from with some of max's characterization.

(see one of my favorite quotes from the article below)

While having short hair and identifying as butch don’t necessarily come as a pair, for butch people, haircuts can be transformational – getting your hair cut off brings you closer to your gender identity.

like I mentioned in the the answer to your previous ask, max's haircut kind of serves as a physical manifestation of her relationship with her father, and more specifically, how that relationship influences her feelings of shame (and eventually acceptance) towards her own sexuality.

part of the reason that max is so struck by charles saying she'd let her cut her hair is in large part because, for max, hair is incredibly representative of an individual's ability to control how others perceive and relate to them. by breaking the ritual with her mother, charles is essentially showing max that she not only finds comfort with her, but also trusts her enough to have her identity placed in her hands.

i could honestly talk about this forever... since body politics and queerness are things i'm just genuinely very passionate about... but i will save the innocent bystanders of this blog from having to read through all of that in one sitting.

(anyways, i'm so happy that people are as invested in this as i am... keep sending me long asks like this... if you couldn't already tell i'll take any opportunity to talk more about this au)

[cellsshapedlikestars]

Don’t worry about answering this is you don’t want to. I know you don’t like fandom wank. But, if you feel like it, do you think someone could make those endpoints work? Bran as king and Jon at the Wall even though there’s a big old hole in it and Dany deliberately burning King’s Landing before Jon or Arya kills her, is that an ending any writer, no matter their skill, could sell to the hardcore fans? I don’t think the fandom would accept it even if GRRM wrote it.

lololol I deleted my post already anon, so for those of you who didn't read it - I was once again whining about how d&d fucked up the last bunch of seasons and every character. it's not a new take, just something I was high thinking in the shower, so I deleted it bc it wasn't productive.

But I'll answer this, because I think it's interesting.

In short - no.

(Beneath the cut for a longer explanation and just a whole bunch of my ranty thoughts. pls remember I am no asoiaf scholar and I haven't studied every aspect of the books or read every meta. These are just my opinions.)

Longer - at this point, too much time has gone by, there is literally no way George can please... probably even half of his fanbase, no matter what he does. From what I can tell, the fandom too divided and there's so much hatred between stan groups (which I do find ridiculous, but it is what it is). People have cemented their own ending in their heads after decades of the fandom existing without an official ending, and I can see a lot of them not liking that they're wrong. Some people have spent 30 years with their theories, it's sunk cost fallacy. Case in point, the show ending being written off as fanfiction by a lot of fans.

which, tangent, I get. I GET why d stans don't believe the ending, because it was so poorly executed. I truly do understand their denial, because the show gaslit the audience for soooooo long that she was the girlboss hero and then seemed to do a 180 at the end. What was that post I just reblogged the other day? I don't hate villains, I hate when the narrative tries to convince you the bad person is actually good.

now, you asked if anyone could make those endpoints work, but I don't actually think most of them are the real endpoints? I think they were D&D giving up and not trying, or going for Shock Value™. But for fun, I'm gonna go by endpoints I think are most to least likely, and my thoughts on how they could happen and how D&D fucked them up.

Bran as king: Confirmed by grrm. How he'll make this work, I have no idea. I genuinely didn't see it coming tbh. I thought the "bittersweet" ending would be Jon being forced to take the crown in KL. like it's a good ending for everyone else, but for him it's misery. I'm sure grrm has his plans, and I'd be interested to see how he pulls it off. This end point does not disappoint me and I'm not mad at being wrong, but I can see a HUGE swath of people HATING it. specifically D stans.

D&D blew this hard. They cut Bran out of an entire season, making him seem to the audience like a lesser character and not important. They made him a robot. Why am I rooting for show!Bran? Also, I will never, ever get over that line - who has a better story than Bran the Broken? I don't know Tyrion, literally everyone else?? JON DIED AND CAME BACK TO LIFE. ahem.

(as far as I'm aware, Bran as king is the only ending grrm has confirmed?? correct me if I'm wrong.)

D as the big bad: I guess grrm hasn't officially confirmed this, but... he's sort of confirmed it, riiiiight? He compared dragons to nuclear weapons. The show has her as the villain (poorly executed or not). When I gave hotd a shot, literally the opening lines were about the Targs bringing themselves down immediately after name dropping her. Seems pretty solid to me. D&D just refused to commit to her villain arc because they didn't want to alienate their audience that they'd gaslit into thinking she was the hero, and they were seemingly obsessed with Shock Value™ twists.

Dany burning KL: I think the burning of KL is going to happen, and it seems like Dany is the only one to really do it? Unclear how it will happen, I'm sure people have theories. What the show didn't have was Aegon, so who knows how he'll factor in.

Arya sailing west: I think there's a lot of foreshadowing for it. It fits her nature. I think this is very likely to happen and I guess D&D handled it ok. They did ruin her character, though, by making her a literal mass murderer. But yayyyyyy feminism I guess.

Theon sacrificing himself for Bran: Theon's was the only arc I think the show did well. They ruined it at the end by having Theon literally throw himself onto the Night King's sword, which was so fucking stupid, but the arc itself is poignant and fits his character. While he can't ever redeem himself to Robb, he can redeem himself to Robb's siblings, and considering he once pretended to kill Bran, I think this is solid.

Cersei and Jaime dying together: this was my theory even before the show ending, and I think it fits their characters. They cannot live without each other, no matter if they hate each other. They're too deeply entwined in each other. Now, I personally wanted Cersei to be taken captive and put in the black cells to be publicly burned later, and then Jaime shows up and mercy kills her and then himself bc he can't live without her.

But I guess getting bonked on the head by some avoidable rocks is also a way to do it

Sansa as QitN: I'll be honest and say I hated this ending because she ended up alone. Sansa, who has wanted nothing more than family and safety since book 1, ends up completely alone. Even Brienne, her sworn shield, leaves her. but she's a queen, so yayyyy feminism I guess.

I can see her as queen, but I can also see her ending up as queen regent for Rickon, because I'm not totally convinced Rickon dies? like in the show he just randomly shows up and gets captured by Ramsay and it just feels like that isn't his arc in the books. Maybe I'm wrong. But I could see D&D having the endpoint of Sansa as regent, but they killed Rickon off already for Shock Value™, and so they went oops! and made her queen.

Now, there is a part of me that thinks she will not be queen or queen regent, because how does one break off and declare independence from their own brother? Feels like that would destabilize his rule and not give people much faith in him. It just seems really strange to me, but I guess it could happen, since Northern Independence is such a huge theme and it would be weird if it didn't happen?? Does Bran just let her secede? And it doesn't make Dorne or the Iron Islands try.... That's the part in the show that literally did not make sense to me. Sansa was like bye, I'm taking the north, and no one else spoke up about that.

I'd be totally fine with her as queen (if she has someone!!) but I can see a gooooood chunk of the fandom absolutely hating this. surprise.

Brienne as Kingsguard: while I like it for narrative purposes, because she deserves it, I just can't see her leaving Sansa, if she becomes as close to Sansa as she does on the show? If Sansa is queen, I could see her as Sansa's Queensguard. But what does she have in KL? The south didn't ever respect her, why would she want to go back. I think D&D put this in so they could have the ending shot of her writing in the book about Jaime for the shippers

Jon at the Wall: the only reason he went to the Wall in the show was because Grey Worm demanded it? And then left. So. You know, real enforceable. So stupid. Genuinely the worst writing of all the endings, I think, the logic made zero sense there. Now, that could be because they'd written themselves into a corner, but knew Jon ended up at the Wall, and had to force it?

But to me, it's like - what was the point of his resurrection, then? In the show, he doesn't even kill the Night King (we'll get to that). He kills D, sure, but... He's also the reason she succeeds in Westeros to begin with. So what, he gets resurrected, causes havoc, fixes the havoc he caused, and then is sent away to a Wall that serves no purpose anymore? WHAT PURPOSE DOES THE WALL SERVE. The Others are defeated, there's a big ol' hole in it, and they've allied with the Free Folk to an extent. How does the Watch continue on?

I guess he could self-banish. I know the show sort of makes the implication that he goes off with the Free Folk, but in the books, he doesn't really like FF culture? He's appalled by a lot of the violence in it. I can't see him wanting to live that way.

Brai.me: don't get me wrong, I like Brai.me. I think it's cute, in fanon. In canon, I think Brienne is too good for him. I don't see their relationship going romantic or sexual. I think Brienne is who Jaime desperately wants to be (but Cersei is who he keeps being pulled back to). Them having sex was 100% for the shippers

Jo/ner.ys: I'm putting all the punctuation in that. don't need them finding me somehow. Anyway. I don't think this happens, at least not as a true romance. They're on opposite continents and there's not a ton of time left, but more than that - and I know I've said this before - I can't see Jon "hates seeing people burned alive" Snow falling in love with D "loves to burn people alive" T. Could it be a political thing? Maybe, but I also could see her having an alliance with Aegon.

I think there's 2 possible reasons for this being in the show and presented as an actual romance. 1) it was supposed to be that pol!Jon theory, but they chickened out (same with jonsa & a love triangle, I think they chickened out bc of the incest. I think now with hotd being incest central and fans loving it, they wouldn't balk anymore). 2) just the spectacle of it? people have been theorizing this for years, why not give it to them? see above, brai.me

Tyrion as Hand: bleh. I know the fandom loves him and he was clearly D&D's fave, but grrm has said Tyrion is the most morally gray character, and I can't see him letting Tyrion get everything he's always wanted, you know? People think asoiaf is grimdark, but I can't imagine grrm punishing Jon with banishment while giving Tyrion a cushy position with lots of power.

I've read the theory that Tyrion ends up at the Wall, which I like thematically, but again, WHAT PURPOSE DOES THE WALL SERVE. Is it just a penal colony at that point?? someone smarter than me, tell me.

Grey Worm & Missandei condoning/encouraging D: hated it. Take the only characters of color to have speaking lines (i'm 99% sure) in the last season and turn them vengeful and murderous (especially grey worm). Throw their characters under the bus to absolve D of blame

Arya killing the Night King: no. he doesn't exist in the books, first, and even in the show it made zero narrative sense. It was just a Shock Value™ twist. You thought it was gonna be hero Jon, hmmmmmm? WRONG. I've said it on here before, but my hope is that it's Sam that brings down the Others in the book somehow.

.

Did I forget anything, anon? This probably veered wildly from the point of the ask, but oh well, it was fun. (I had a jonsa section in here at first, but then I remembered this is show canon ending stuff and that was not canon sorry fellow jonsas. I obvioulsy want it to be the ending bc the shipper brainrot is real, buuuuuut...)

[squidkid15]

As a deep and long-time lover of whump if you're serious about being all right taking time out to give me a list I would absolutely LOVE a list.

so I'm too lazy to alphabetize it but *cracks knuckles* let's see how this goes

Read more because I was serious about him having a shitton of issues.

The circlets he's wearing in that new picture? Yeah none of those is the original one

His tongue is lightly coated in copper after 500 years of being fed nothing but that. His sense of taste is greatly reduced, and he can faintly taste copper all the time.

His Tripitaka was...pretty cruel to him. Wukong, of course, has yet to realize this fully. He still thinks the monk was trying to help - he just failed at it (see next bullet)

He spent all of jttw and afterward being called all sorts of terrible things and never being thanked/being good enough that he's decided he never will be. ("A good person? Nah. I'm not one of those.") He's given up on it.

He no longer does things just for the sake of being a "good person," he'll only do it if he wants to. Usually, these things overlap, what he wants is generally good, but not always. He's decided that no one will ever see him as good/good enough so he's stopped trying.

Oh, every single one of these issues? Before and after this bullet? Never addressed. He's the definition of "I'll keep all my emotions right here and then one day I'll die". Except, unfortunately, that second part never happens so all those emotions have been bottled for literally thousands of years.

He has been borrowing mental spoons from future wukong for centuries and at some point he's gonna run out of spoons to borrow

Doesn't sleep. Ever. Hasn't for a LONG time. His Macaque has sleep/dream powers and made sure Wukong has nightmares any time he's asleep. So he just. Doesn't. This does not help the 'mental spoons' issue.

He killed his Mac. Like flat out did it. Knows he did it, meant to do it (sorta). Soooooo thats like 29473834 issues wrapped into one

The four NEW circlets were tossed on him after the fire was split. The force of taking the ring knocked him out and when he woke up he was wearing not one, not two, but FOUR circlets. Heaven claimed it was to seal the Samadhi Fire (which it does do!) but Ne'Zha and DBK don't have them so Wukong knows better.

"Last 'good thing' I did, I helped a friend with his kid. And it landed me in chains."

The new circlets have only been used once - right after he woke up and tried to rampage through heaven when he saw what they did. They were used just the once to stop that, and now remain as just a threat, but a very real one.

He won't fight back (unless its to protect someone he cares about). He just won't. Last time he fought back he killed his best friend, so he Will Not defend himself. Any amount of verbal or physical abuse, if it's aimed at only him, he won't fight back. Mac has said some awful things to him and Wukong just looks away.

Mac gave him a nightmare about Wukong killing him again and Wukong woke up and rolled right into a full-blown panic attack. It was really bad.

Killed his Mac to protect the jttw gang, and was...mostly in his right mind at the time. Buried pretty deep in Stockholm Syndrome, he didn't see that Mac was trying to help. Mac's powers make it near impossible to stop him without lethal force, and...so that's what Wukong used. He shifted into "this is a threat. threats need to be stopped" mentality, and only after he'd snapped mac's neck did he fully process what he did.

He completely understands Mac's grudge, has never tried to defend or explain himself there.

[kndrules]

in your take/au/adulthood shenanigans for Sector V, if they (like one of the couples or whatever) were to ever have kids, what would they be like?

ofc i stress "if" as by all means am only curious, doesn't have to be "canon" n whatnot lol

I AM SOOOOOO GLAD YOU ASKED...get ready for a long answer

Please note that all of these headcanons are cowritten by @sector-v and some of the kid OCs are his. I'll say which ones.

Let's start with Wally and Kuki

They foster kids, so a lot of kids have lived with them over the years, but three kids ended up sticking around. The two younger kids were adopted by them, and the older kid came into their home as an older teenager, so she just spent the rest of her childhood years with them.

Here they are:

Kat and Dirt Bug are in Sector V. I think Dirt's pronouns should be they/them instead maybe...I'm still developing these three, they're the newest of my kid OCs by several years. Dirt's name is like that because Wally let them name themself.

Kat- VERY energetic and impulsive. She's a bit sensitive, full of love and wonder, and prone to getting herself into trouble. She's very protective of her friends and siblings. She's also very into sports.

Dirt- Very curious and has absolutely no sense of danger. Also energetic, but mostly follows Kat around. Both Kat and Dirt LOVE bugs and collecting them. Dirt plays by their own rules, which they never share out loud. They somewhat live in their own reality, a lot like Kuki does.

Xue- She was in the foster system her whole life, so she's understandably standoffish around new people, including her new family. Her best friends are all internet friends. Wally and Kuki are trying to encourage her to get out more. I need to figure out more about her still.

Now for the Hoagie/Abby kids

I will admit my bias- Naomi is my favorite of all of them. Garth is @sector-v 's OC. Garth is short for Hogarth, making him Hogarth the Third!

(These drawings are from before I redesigned adult Hoagie)

Naomi is the leader of Sector V. Garth will join the KND too, but they won't be in Sector V at the same time, because of their age difference.

Naomi- Takes after both her parents to an alarming degree, but she has more energy than both of them put together. She loves inventing and engineering and is a huge extrovert. She's a natural leader who sometimes has a tendancy to be controlling. Her parents support anything she wants to do, so she's a very well-rounded kid with infinite resources. She's brilliant both academically and socially- and is a huge nerd...though she hates to be called one.

When she gets older, she's probably gonna start going by she/they

Garth- I don't know much about him yet, but he's definitely a typical younger brother in many ways.

Now...Lizzie and Nigel

They're a mixed family. Lizzie was married before she started talking to Nigel again, and she has one son from that previous marriage. His name is Joshua and he's @sector-v 's OC. Nigel becomes the Step Dad, but he hates being seen as the "parent" (he's got baggage about that). Lizzie and Nigel later have a child of their own, Monty Jr, who is also @sector-v 's OC. Actually this entire paragraph- pretend @sector-v wrote it, because these are all his ideas.

Joshua eventually joins Sector V, but was hesitant to at first.

Joshua- He and Naomi are inseparable best friends. Naomi got him to come out of his shell and pushed him to be more adventerous. Being raised by Lizzie, he's kind of meek and studious. He's a very well behaved kid, and Nigel doesn't know what to do with that.

Monty- I dunno he's a baby!

I could say more, but I think that's plenty! I have so many story ideas planned that feature them, but I have no idea if I'll ever draw them.

[studentbyday]

me @the stuff i have to do this week

day 50-56 // 100dop && day 29-35 // 100doc

saturday/sunday: finished lab report and data structures lab, spent what felt like a really long time trying to understand the instructions and distro code for speller.c and wrote lots of notes and some pseudocode for the load function.

monday: finished 2 and a little bit of a 3rd section of chem chapter. wrote drafts for the load, check, and unload functions in speller.c but it's returning the opposite of what i should be getting. ☹️🧐

tuesday: it seems i have to accept that as the semester wears on, my study space will inevitably become very very messy with scrap paper (note to self to sift through them tmr and keep only what i need rn)... finished 2.5 sections of chem chapter but didn't take notes on everything yet (halfway through the chapter whooo 🙌). answered tutorial worksheet. also, for some reason i didn't have to change anything except for some minor things in unload and load and check50 works for everything now???? now all that's left to do is figure out why my size function is not returning the same number as the staff's solution and improve on that dreaded hash function...everything i've tried so far takes longer than the one already in there... 🤔 in my impatience to move on, i started the python lecture (YAY PYTHON 😁💗 i'm so ready to be done with C for now)

wednesday: OMG i wasn't expecting to be able to finish speller today but i DID!!!! i thought it would take me much longer to figure out that hash function - i owe it all to cs50's reddit (and stepping away from it and doing smth else when stuck) 💗💗💗 now i can REALLY enjoy myself w python (my beloved XP) and not have that unfinished problem hanging over my head ☺️ also almost done making notes for the sections covered yesterday and finished 3/4 practice assignments.

thursday: i woke up at 12pm 😑☹️ finished all except 1 section of the assignment bc i haven't covered all of the chapter yet. i haven't even finished taking notes on...several things, it's kind of all over the place and i'm just trying to learn enough to do the assignment and then go back in more detail once i'm done bc that's how bored and overwhelmed i feel rn (did not know it was possible to feel both at the same time until uni XD) 😅 watched a little more of the python lecture even tho i should be prioritizing chem rn... still got the lab report to write and a quiz to do after the assignment 😵‍💫😑 (it'll be fine, ik, but if i'm being completely honest, it would be soooooo nice if those things could just do themselves and i could download all the info i need into my brain and instantly understand it and be calculator-fast at the math and not make any mistakes 😤)

friday: finished practice assignment, actual assignment, writing all of the lab report except the intro and references, and the python lecture. got through the remainder of the chem chapter but still gotta write notes on it... it was late at night when i got to the python problems and gaaahhhh coding is sm harder on a sleepy brain, i only finished hello.py XD also dunno how much time i'll have to spend on 100doc this weekend but at least i was able to keep up the streak through the weekdays this time!!

saturday/sunday: finished lab report, notes on chem chapter, quiz, and mario.py. am now working on credit.py and uuuggghhh i did not read the instructions carefully for the checksum!!! 😡 i just followed their example but not all credit card numbers are like the one in the example, so...i have to redo and rethink what seems like a lot of stuff so i basically just wasted all of that time getting confused as to why it wasn't working XD aaaannnddd idk if i should be doing this but i keep converting strings to ints back to strings and then back to ints as needed cuz i lovelovelove iterating through strings but also it seems kinda messy? it also feels super weird writing in python after writing in C for a while...

[pillowenvelopchair]

Felt a little silly today, soooooo I might have compiled all of Rogier's dialogue (that is in the game) under the cut

STORMVEIL CASTLE:

(MEETING ROGIER FIRST IN STORMVEIL CASTLE)

“Ah, nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure's mine. Rogier's the name. A sorcerer, as you might have guessed.”

“I'm looking for a little something, here in the castle.”

“When I'm not hot-footing it from the troops, that is.”

“But enough about me, what are you doing here in Stormveil Castle?”

“This place is bristling with Tarnished hunters, you know. They sacrifice our kind, for grafting.”

“Not exactly a place I'd stroll into without a purpose in mind…”

(“I’M HERE TO DEFEAT GODRICK.”)

“I see. Here to challenge Godrick, and lay your hands upon a Great Rune, are you?”

“You can see it then, I take it? The guidance of grace.”

“Well, enjoy it while you can.”

“I'm Tarnished, like you.”

“But unlike you, I've seen neither hide nor hair of this guidance for the longest time.”

“Still, I won't forget how it felt when I first came here, to the Lands Between.”

“I'm privy to a few magical battle arts.”

“Would you care to learn one?”

“As a fellow Tarnished, once guided by grace. I'd love to help you out, if it please.”

( “I CAN’T TELL YOU.”)

“Of course. I understand.”

“Why place trust in a perfect stranger?”

“Be safe, then, stranger.

“Watch you don't get sacrificed, eh. I'll do the same.”

(SPEAKING WITH ROGIER AFTER YOU SAY “I CANT TELL YOU”)

“Oh? Something bothering you?”

“Or are you just trying to pass the time?”

“I'm curious how you ended up inside this castle.”

(SEEING ROGIER AGAIN)

“Oh? Keen to learn another battle art, are we?”

(SEEING ROGIER AGAIN AGAIN)

“Oh hello there, good to see you safe.”

(SEEING ROGIER AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN)

“Stopping by to learn a battle art or two?”

(AFTER LEARNING ROGIER'S BATTLE ARTS)

“The battle art you've learned is of the glintstone family.”

“They were conceived at the great Academy of Raya Lucaria, to the north of this castle.”

“In the past, they obeyed laws which contravened the Golden Order, or so I'm told.”

“Fascinating, isn't it?”

“That the Golden Order was pliable enough to absorb practices that contradicted itself in the past.”

“With the Order broken, twisted, and in need of repair,”

“Such adaptability is more important now than ever.”

ROUNDTABLE HOLD:

(MEETING ROGIER FIRST IN THE ROUNDTABLE HOLD)

“Pleased to meet you.”

“The name's Rogier. A sorcerer, by trade.”

“But now I'm in this sorry state.”

“I had a little mishap, and now I can't move.”

“As you might guess, it's far from ideal...”

“Ah, I know.”

“I'm privy to a few magical battle arts.”

“Would you care to learn one?”

“Time can move rather slowly, stuck here, you know.”

“A little conversation goes a long way.”

(MEETING ROGIER IN ROUNDTABLE HOLD, AFTER STORMVEIL CASTLE)

“Ah, we meet again after all.”

“I apologise for any offence given by my bearing, but I'm quite unable to move, you see.”

“So. What do you need? ”

(“I’VE DEFEATED GODRICK.”)

“Ah, you defeated Godrick and claimed yourself a Great Rune.”

“Mm, looks like we both got we wanted out of Stormveil, didn't we?”

“Well done, friend.”

“Something to mark the occasion. Go on, take it.”

“As you might've guessed, I still can't move. My fighting days are behind me.”

“No need to be polite, I've no use for it anymore.”

(“ABOUT THE MISSHAPEN CORPSE UNDER STORMVEIL”)

“The misshapen corpse under Stormveil?”

“That is a sacred relic. Of the black knives plot. As that famed night of assassination is known.”

“It happened during the Golden Age of the Erdtree, long before the shattering of the Elden Ring.”

“Someone stole a fragment of the Rune of Death from Maliketh, the Black Blade.”

“And on a bitter night, murdered Godwyn the Golden.”

“That was the first recorded Death of a demigod in all history.”

“And it became the catalyst. Soon, the Elden Ring was smashed, and thus sprang forth the war known as the Shattering.”

“I once wished to become a scholar, you see. I've spent many an hour scouring the archives for knowledge of that fateful plot.”

“The world has grown crooked, and if you intend to put it to rights,”

“You'd better understand what happened to make it this way, mm?”

(GIVE THE BLACK KNIFEPRINT)

“This...is a black knifeprint!”

“I can scarcely believe you managed to get your hands on this!”

“You recall our conversation about the Night of the Black Knives, yes?”

“They say the assassins who carried out the deed were scions of the Eternal City.”

“A group entirely of women, arrayed in armour of silver under cloaks which fooled the eye.”

“The knives they wielded though, were imparted with the power of the Rune of Death through sinister rite.”

“Please, I beg of you, lend me the knifeprint for a time.”

“I'd love nothing more than to tease out its secrets.”

“Though only a fragment, a very specific ritual had to be performed to impart the power of the Rune of Death.”

“Traces of the one who performed the rite are sure to remain in the imprint..”

“Half my body has been suffused with Death. I'm certain it will help me see.”

(TALKING TO ROGIER IN ROUNDTABLE HOLD)

“Always good to see you safe.”

“So. What do you need?”

(TALKING TO ROGIER AGAIN IN ROUNDTABLE HOLD)

“Oh, still need something?”

(“ABOUT D.”)

“Ah, so you've met D.”

“D is an old friend.”

“We found ourselves journeying together for a time, bound by our exploration of Death.”

“But our paths have since diverged. Never again to cross.”

“Though that's hardly an uncommon fate for two friends.”

(SECOND “ABOUT D”)

“D was telling me.”

“That he discovered the mark of the centipede.”

“The centipede is an ancient symbol of the cursemark.”

“As long as whoever finds and uses it is not nefarious by nature,”

“then we may be able to form an alliance.”

“If only I could speak to them in person.”

“And if they were like you, all the better.”

(AFTER ROGIER HAS EXAMINED THE KNIFEPRINT)

“Ahh, hello. I was hoping to see you.”

“My examination is complete. Here's the knifeprint back, with my thanks.”

“Now, I have a fairly good idea who performed the rite upon the blade. The person who orchestrated the Night of the Black Knives.”

“Lunar Princess Ranni. One of the children born to King Consort Radagon and his first wife, Renalla.”

“Demigod and sister to General Radahn and Praetor Rykard.”

“Her's was the name I discovered in the imprint.”

“Truly, you have my thanks.”

“But, if I might be so bold, I would also like to ask something more of you.”

“If Ranni truly is the one who plotted that fateful night,”

“then she should bear the cursemark of Destined Death somewhere upon her flesh.“

“I would like you to procure it for me.“

“And then all will be laid bare. I will have the answers I have sought for so long.”

“Don't fret, it is entirely in accordance with the guidance of grace.”

“If you seek to stand before the Elden Ring and become Elden Lord,”

“The answers you find will surely bolster your chances.”

(RANNI’S WHEREABOUTS)

“I have some idea of Ranni's potential whereabouts.”

“There's a manor to the north of the Academy of Raya Lucaria.”

“It is the familial home of the Carian royals from whom Ranni descends.”

“There's been talk of the old royals' vassals gathering there in recent years.”

“Ranni's whereabouts since the Shattering are a well-kept secret. She hasn't been seen even once.”

“But I suspect she might have returned to the manor in which she was born…”

“If Lunar Princess Ranni truly is the one who plotted that fateful night,”

“then she should bear the cursemark of Destined Death somewhere upon her flesh.”

“Would you be willing to procure it for me?”

“She may have returned to the manor that is her home.”

“The Royal Carian residence to the north of the Academy of Raya Lucaria.

(“WHY DO YOU WANT A CURSEMARK”)

“I'm afraid there's something I must tell you.”

“Do you know of Those Who Live in Death?”

“The very notion of life in death defies the Golden Order.”

“By D's account, these defiled fiends must be expunged.”

“But truth be told, I seek the cursemark to save them.”

“You may find this peculiar,”

“but I discovered something in my examination of the Night of the Black Knives.”

“These souls have committed no offence. They have every right to life, only, they happened to touch upon a flaw in the Order.”

(AFTER ROGIER TELLS YOU HIS INTENTIONS: “ABOUT D”)

“Yes, indeed.”

“If D knew what drives me now,”

“he would surely boil over with rage.”

“Or perhaps, he would even feel some pity.”

“But no need to fret, none of that will come to pass.”

“I can tell a good lie when I need to.”

“And...that thing is to blame for the shape I'm in now…”

“I urge the utmost caution. Don't disturb the corpse more than necessary…”

(TALKING TO ROGIER AGAIN IN THE ROUNDTABLE HOLD)

“Oh? Forgot something, did you?”

“Alright there. Good to see you safe.”

(“RANNI CAST OFF HER CURSEMARK”)

“I see…”

“When Ranni shed her flesh, she shed the cursemark, too.”

“You know, not everyone would trust such a tale...”

“But, if she in her current form is nothing more than the living doll you profess...”

“Then perhaps it's true after all.”

“Hmm.”

“Forgive the bluntness of the notion, but...”

“How would you like to become one of Ranni's vassals?”

“Ah, only in order to get what we want, of course.”

“The location of the body which bore the cursemark, which right now I haven't the faintest.”

“And the best way to find out is for you to enter her service and take a poke around on the sly.”

“I know you've got what it takes.”

“Not only are you a superb fighter, but people want to trust you. I've seen it.”

(ROGIER’S PROPOSITION)

“Can you become Ranni's vassal to advance our agenda?”

“While in her service, you'll be able to take a poke around on the sly.”

“And determine the location of her original body that bears the cursemark.”

“I realise that I'm asking you to put yourself in grave danger.”

“But I know you've got what it takes. Quite possibly the only one, in fact.”

“Not only are you a superb fighter, but people want to trust you. I've seen it.”

(AFTER BECOMING RANNI’S VASSAL)

“Hmm. Maybe I should tell you.”

“Lately, I feel I'm on the precipice…”

“Of falling into a deep...fathomless slumber.”

“And I have an inkling it could spell trouble for you, somehow.”

“So I just wanted to get the apology out of the way, beforehand.”

“Since you're so scary and all.”

[antivanwine14]

Thoughts on Unicorn Overlord now that I finished, both positive and negative (long post):

Positives

The graphics are beautiful. The models are great and it was a very pleasant game to play in that sense. I also appreciated the fact you can skip the battles when grinding or just doing minor battles.

Game play: the tactics and team building was a lot of fun and challenging. I really enjoyed building the squads and experimenting with different builts.

Characters: I enjoyed a lot of the interactions and thought the characters really carried it. The rapports were good and there were several times where I wish there was more. Some of them were very funny and others really did a lot of world building.

Drakenhold: By far the best developed of the lands. It is a very strong second area to go to and really builds on a lot of things. The story rapport with Gilbert and Alain is actually some of the best and shows a different side of the relationship between Cornia and Drakenhold which I liked a lot. Even though Drakenhold is supposed to be worse than Cornia, things actually have complexity and I enjoyed it.

Negatives:

The story is middling at best. At the start I enjoyed it and I thought the time spent in Cornia was actually decent if not very close to a middle tier Fire Emblem Story. Drakenhold was good and I wanted more of that. Ellheim was alright but very predictable with nothing interesting going on. But then we got to Bastorias and it was literally a filler arc. There was no real reason to go there besides being curious on how they were handling things. The plot in Bastorias was not related to anything else and none of the main central characters really had anything to do with the area. By the time we got to Albion I was pretty over the repetitive story beats (bad person who really isn't SOOO bad and no we are really best friends) and I thought Albion's bad guy reasoning of ‘I did it to protect the church’ was the weakest. I have no issue with him being against you but I almost wish they had just gone mind control on him rather than his weak reasoning.

Also the amount of times a scene ended with everyone laughing was ridiculous and I don’t understand it. This isn’t an after school special, not everything has to end with a laugh. Let there be emotions besides happy. It would have been nice for there to be more conflict in the areas we have been too besides just clearing out Zenoira. Like, if Zenoira went back and tried to take places or something. It was all just one and done and the war was both pretty easy and happy. A big set back would have been appreciated.

Plot hole: Fun fact, if you accidentally missed the Tatiana quest in Cornia, like I did when I went into Drakenhold, you are going to be absolutely baffled by Hilda’s stuff because characters are going to talk like you’ve been there and dealt with that plague and people.

Character design- oh boy is that something. The female design is so unfortunate and what makes it worse is there are elements of good. Some of the outfits are just fine and not all the body shapes are thin and tiny, which is always nice to see. I don’t mind some level of fan service (Hades did it very well) but SOOOOOO many of the women in UO are just designed to be sexual. To make it worse they try to excuse it with Yahna being like I want to dress like this (completely fine, if this didnt mean ALL the witches had to be dress like her) and then the elves can’t wear metal because of the fae which is interesting in concept but why are most of the lady elves in their underwear but the male elves are fully clothed? PS, Scarlet's boobs bobbing ALL the time got really annoying quickly.

Alain- he isn’t allowed to have almost any emotion except mild and happy and that is unfortunate. This is a character who has been through a lot and he should have been super interesting. I know he is supposed to be stoic but there is more to stoicism than being mild all the time. Let the man have character. I almost wish they made him a little more like Alear (good personality, shows their youth) or even something along what Intsys wanted to do with Byleth (very stoic and closed off in the beginning, starts to open up as the story goes along)

Male Romance- they were cowards and very few of the men can even hint at something more than friendship. You can marry your cousin but can barely get anything from a man. Some of the rapport's show some promise and funny enough some of the most random characters have decent romantic rapports. Rolf has almost no connection to the plot or other characters but is one of the best ones. I am fine with not all the men being romantic (Josef's extremely sweet father son stuff being some of the best and not romantic at ALL), but it would have been to see more done with them.

Romance in General- honestly, I know they would have taken out all the guys but they should have not made every character available for Alain. It takes away from their individual stories. I honestly wished they picked a handful of characters (men and women) and allow them to build the story and romance with Alain and allow the other characters to form their own relationships without worrying about Alain. Sharon and Ochlys have something going on and it really annoys me that they can up with Alain.

Overall:

I had fun and it definitely kept my attention, but I don't know if I can recommend it. Maybe get it on sale.

[prozac-shaped-urn]

so *clap*

i just watched passion...... again....... don't look at me that way all three of you who are also so far down the d. murphy rabbit hole you cannot see daylight......... and i am fighting off the microdose of weed that makes me sleepy. OTHERWISE i wouldn't likely be so nonchalant about what i'm about to admit. and yeah you can bully me for it. but not in a mean way, just a knowing nod and chuckle kinda way. call me a hypocrite and whatnot.

soooooo i've never been ~in love~ and i'm not sure i understand the mindset of someone who's actively ~in love~ since i've never been there, but i do understand the mindset of someone who lives with a chronic illness. i relate to fosca a little too hard when she's shaking from happiness as that's a trigger for me also. i'm the child of a narcissist and was love-bombed my whole life, so receiving too much of an uptick in dopamine and oxytocin makes my brain go "waaaaait a second what's going on????? do i need to be Concerned? do i need to Prepare?" so i get that fosca is simultaneously scared and excited at the prospect of Being Happy and Feeling Loved. i will have a panic attack if i fall in love one day. i know i will and i'll have to talk myself down from it. i'm prepared for that. what i'm decidedly NOT prepared for is not preparing for the worst. i'm so accustomed to being productively paranoid (as a friend put it recently) that if i'm not over-preparing for things that could possibly happen, i'm anxious. relaxing is STRESSFUL for me. like what do you mean i can't brace for impact? i can't protect myself? i can't defend myself? i have to just ~let someone else~ do that???? REALLY?????? not fun.

so when fosca realizes giorgio loves her n shit and has that moment of anxiety/panic/adrenaline rush/overdose of cortisol/whatever the fuck, and giorgio asks her if she's cold and she's like nah i'm happy but there's so little time, my heart went OUCH FUCK THAT'S TOO CLOSE TO HOME. because lemme tell y'all something and this is where you can bully me and bully me hard.

i've spent my whole life trying to push the time limit so far into the next century that i won't have any time left to make a mistake.

i can't start over from 20 and fall madly in love and get married and buy a house. my bestie did that and she was miserable.

i can't start over from 30 and fall madly in love and live with my partner and raise a brood of dogs.

i can't start over from 40 and fall madly in love and settle into a life with someone and grow to know them more with each passing day. my dad and stepmom did that and they've been together 20 years

i can't do any of those. and if i do live past 60, i can't start over then either. i'm stuck in my present. i have to start here. i have to start where i am now. but my problem is that the person i'm meant to be with isn't in my generation. they're significantly older than me and with such little time as we'll have, i'm scared that i'll fuck it up. i don't want a tryst, i don't want an affair, i don't want a half-assed commitment. i want a full and completely equal partnership that will make me regret not being open to it for so long.

i want to commiserate with betty white when she talked about allen ludden begging her to marry him for a year and she refused, and that was the only regret of her life. THAT'S what i want. THAT'S the level of connection i want to have with a partner. and that's why i've been pushing the time limit. i know i won't find it in people my age, and the only way to have a greater chance of finding it at all is to wait until age catches up to people and maturity (hopefully) follows.

how do i know the part about the generational divide? oh... i've only had three precognitions about my future partner. and they're currently 75 years old. what a pair we'll make.

the youngest old person and the oldest young person on the planet walk into a bar...

[niuniente]

Hello Niu, I've come to ask you if you have any recommendations for particular books, websites, or people for dream interpretation? Or perhaps advice for how to interpret.

Tonight I had a dream and one part just felt so significant, and I must write it before its lost to me.

In the dream I was relaxing in a guest bed at a home that's not mine, and suddenly my mouth hurt and a tooth fell out. On rushing to the bathroom, it turned out many teeth had broken or fully fallen out or had big ugly cavities (the absolute horror 😱)

In one particular cavity, there was a whole entire frog hiding inside? Idk how?? It must have been very small.

In my hand full of broken bloody teeth there was a good sized round stone, with a small iridescence on the edge. On breaking open this stone, it had a beautiful rainbow ammonite fossil.

I know I can google "frog dream meaning" and "broken teeth dream meaning" there are just soooooo many results, and often websites vary drastically in what they say (especially for frogs) so I wanted to ask your thoughts on where to look

Regardless if you have advice, thank you for your time and your open inbox. Wishing you good vibes and good times <3

I'm unfortunately not specialized in dreams and don't know any extra good sources. When you encounter animals in dreams, check what their spiritual meaning is (for example in this case; "frog spirit animal"). Some of the animal guidance pages have meanings from multiple culture for the said animal. Something there most likely fits your situation.

Broken teeth and tooth injuries are always stress or anxiety related dreams. What worries you at this moment? Have you taken enough time to rest? How's your self confidence?

Long, long time ago I read of a woman who has been doing dream interpretations for 30 years. She said that the best person to tell what the dream means is the person who had the dream, because it's a direct message from the person's subconscious mind.

When googling, keep googling until you land to something which resonates with you. I once had a dream where two spiders twice of my size came inside a house I was in. When I defended myself and hit one of them, it cried out with a sad voice my spirit guide's name, Ian.

After the dream I spent hours trying to understand what a Spider means. All dream interpretations said that it was a bad omen but it didn't feel like it, especially when the spiders were friendly and called Ian, who is my guardian. Finally, I found a Hopi story of the Grandmother Spider, Hopi Kokyangwuti, who created the world and humans (if I remember it right). I realized that the Spiders in my dream were encouraging me to be more creative, as I had planned to but kept pushing it aside because I was "too busy".

Since then, seeing living spiders randomly has always meant for me that it's time to be creative, especially to write something. I literally fall into a bad health and a bad mental space if I don't do something creative regularly, so Spider is always a good reminder that time to get creative.

You can find your own meanings to your dreams and symbols like this, too. Sometimes it is a bit like a detective work.