#Share Your Problem To Get Dark Magic Solution

[innerfare]

You’re Jealous

 Summary: You get jealous of someone else in his life.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid

Genre: Slight Angst // Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy:

He never told you Boa Hancock was in love with him, and when you find out, you have to remove yourself from the situation before you have an emotional outburst and start something with the Pirate Empress. The problem is, you don’t even know which emotion will spill out of you. Finding out the world’s most beautiful woman, and a powerful Warlord, no less, is desperate to marry Luffy is a whirlwind, to say the least. Luffy can seem clueless at times, but his emotional intelligence is through the roof, and he picks up on what has you upset almost straight away. He knows to give you some space, and when he senses you’re ready, he approaches you with a handful of wildflowers he picked. He doesn’t really say much, just pulls you into a hug, presses a few kisses into your cheek and temple, and says in your ear, “you’re my girl.” 

Zoro:

He didn’t mention Perona was also at Mihawk’s castle for those two years until a few months after the crew gets together. He tells a story that features her, and you realize there was a woman keeping him company. Your heart drops into your stomach. Zoro insists he didn’t mention her because he didn’t think she was relevant; the only thing Perona did those two years was annoy him. He’s actually the one who won’t let it go, not you (even though you are pretty jealous). Whereas you’d prefer not to talk about it, Zoro is wracked with guilt because he’d never considered the whole thing in a relationship context. Him fretting constantly over it actually heals your jealousy because you realize you’ve never seen him panic over the prospect of hurting anyone else’s feelings. 

Sanji:

Even with a third eye, Pudding is stunning. And Sanji almost married her. It was before you two were together, but listening to the stories from Whole Cake, hearing how close he came to marrying another woman, knowing she really did fall in love with his kind heart and wonderful cooking, turns you into a little green monster. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous of a woman you’ve never met before, a woman Sanji chose not to marry, but you can’t help it. Sanji is completely shocked that you would feel jealous over his relationship (if it could even be called that) with Pudding, though after thinking about it some more, he does realize why you might be jealous that he had a fiancé. His solution is to bring you a bouquet of roses and walk you through the dark details of his life, telling you things he’s never outright told anyone, so you understand the special place you have in his life. 

Ace:

He collects people without trying, and often times, without realizing, either. Ace thinks he’s just making friends, but you see the way the women he laughs and shares drinks with are drawn to him like plants to the sun. He promises them freedom and adventure (and he has a very nice laugh), and you can see how it excites them. You don’t really mind it, knowing Ace well enough to see the way he holds those women at arm’s length, even if he seems close with them (such is the magic of Fire First Ace). But Yamato makes you jealous. It’s not hearing the way they laughed together but hearing the way they fought that gets to you. You know how Ace lives to fight and even just roughhouse, you know how he’s a rough and tumble guy, and you worry you’re not tough enough. Should you be punching his arm when he makes a joke? Should you be trying to trip him out on deck? What should you be doing? When you finally come clean with Ace about what’s been bothering you, he actually laughs. “If I wanted to be with someone who gives me hell, I’d be sleeping in Marco’s cabin every night. Besides,” he says, scooping you up in his arms, “I like being able to manhandle you.” 

Sabo:

Sabo is a flirt, and you knew that going into your relationship. It actually doesn’t bother you when he flashes that charming smile of his at someone else or swoops in to save a damsel in distress (a speciality of his) and even serves to entertain, especially on the rare occasions his flirtations are rebuked. What does bother you, though, is his tight relationship with Koala. You know it’s ridiculous to be envious, you know Koala would sooner saw off her arm than kiss the man she considers her irksome big brother, but they’ve known each other since they were little kids, and Koala has been through so much with Sabo that the pair have such a close bond. It’s not the angry kind of jealousy that bubbles up in you when Koala mentions something about Sabo’s past that she assumes you know but you don’t, just the sad kind that you try to keep to yourself. Surprisingly, Sabo notices, though you don’t realize until he hugs you from behind and mumbles in your ear that he’s glad you’re the only one who knows he has a skincare routine, his silly words diffusing your mood and acting as the exact affirmation you needed. If it’s not enough, though, he’ll happily prove his loyalty to you by challenging Koala to a karate match, though.  

Law:

Dr. Law and Dr. Robin sure do get along well- so well, in fact, you can’t help but wonder if they are better suited to each other than you and him. Even if they didn’t have such good chemistry, it would be impossible not to feel a touch of jealousy toward the archeologist. She’s intelligent, beautiful, fiercely loyal, a member of the Straw Hats, and has an impressive bounty that she earned even before she became a pirate. Needless to say, you find yourself brooding when the Robin brings him a beer and sits down beside him to discuss the immune systems of fishmen, a topic both are rather interested in. Of course, you’re interested in that, too, thus the reason Law realizes something is wrong when you don’t participate in the conversation. He ends up excusing the two of you and taking you to bed, worrying you had too much to drink, the thought you may be jealous never once occurring to him. You end up not saying anything (many thing in your relationship with Law being unspoken) and just sleeping it off, the fact that he excused the two of you proof enough of his loyalty. 

Kid:

He doesn’t ever talk about his first love, Victoria. In fact, you didn’t even know she existed until Killer got drunk one night and began speaking of his dearly departed. What he didn’t mention was that Kid, too, had been in love with her. It only comes up the next night when you mention it to Wire, who mentions it was the death of his first love, Victoria, that put Kid on the war path and united the first four members of the Kid Pirates. Realizing Wire messed up, Heat chimes in to say, “he’d do the same for you.” But you’re not convinced, mainly because Kid never told you any of this. It tears you apart, leaves you tossing and turning for nights on end, until you finally burst into Kid’s workshop one night ranting about how he doesn’t trust you and holds you at arm’s length. “Heat says you’d do the same for me, but-” Kid cuts you off and says, “I wouldn’t do the same, I’d do worse. Much, much worse.” And from the wicked gleam in his eye, you’re inclined to believe him. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Once again I thank you all so much for supporting me during the Kirby OC Tournament. Especially all my followers & mutual who humored me with all the poll reblog stuff.

As promised the lore. (And I've been cooking this turkey for a while and it's ready to come out of the oven.)

Fair Warning contains spoilers... I will not be explaining all the details of what happening. This is incredibly vague & via musical... so I won't spoil that much (since this does take place during the final arc... Void Termina Saga). The events that are being shown do not happen exactly how they are portrayed, however the essence of what's happening is the same.

Morgan shall be singing "Last Midnight from Into the Woods,"

Spoiler warning, (More drawn content is contained below)

(OH NO WHAT'S HAPPENING TO KIRBY...Sorry, I can't explain it just yet... Nor why Meta Knight's mask is broken in half... maybe he got into a fight or something, hold the phone I thought Galacta was trapped in insanity... what happened... Sorry if I tell anything of that it'll spoil the good stuff)

Dame Morgan: It's the Last Midnight

So in summary: After they refuse to hand Kirby over, Morgan reveals there's a traitor in their midst... Fumu is the reason why Kirby is in the state he is in (Fumu is currently regretting her life choices). Leaving Meta & Gala shocked, and scared to death at Kirby's current state, while Kirby is sad, and betrayed again...~

And Morgan just having herself a time, living her best life~

In the KBASW series, she tricks three major characters:

Namely: Queen Ripple, Hyness, and Fumu/Tiff. (the most devastating one she tricks)

Dame Morgan is basically a mixture of: "The Witch" from Into the Woods, Morgan from (Merlin's 2008 TV series), Eris from Sinbad (she has the voice of Eris), and the Joker from Batman.

Morgan represents the opposite of Celestine... (via Morgan vs. Merlyn wizard rivalry) The Anti-Celestine so to speak~

The one person she hates more than Arthur is Merlyn/Celestine.

Celestine sees magic as a tool, not a solution or the answer to your problem... promoting true self-improvement comes from within. For there will always be...: another bridge to cross, another monster to slay, another woods to go into. The only way to ever truly be prepared in this world is to learn from each other... and to be kind to one another & share the experience. If you cheat your way throw life will just get harder and move with you... Being better and leading a good example will inspire others to be better along with you.

The change starts within, with us...

While Dame Morgan:

Life is unfair, you play by their rules, you follow the system, sacrifice everything to fit the mold, and yet you can still be cheated out of what you deserve...

And you're telling me I should just "hang in there," "hold on", "it's gonna be okay eventually keep smiling".... nah? Let's stop "pretending to be good", everybody is just in it for themselves so... if you do that you're just a fool waiting to be tricked.

Why not live just for yourself... why not cheat back... why not be the bad guy? That's why her theme is "Stella Jang(스텔라장) _ Villain(빌런)

Morgan represents the easy way out, a quick fix... to blame someone else...an escape. How did she obtain this dark magic... The Jamba Heart...Granting everyone's selfish desires... the reason why everyone falls for it is because she has the charisma to make the offer far too tempting and to pass it up, no.

And guess who was her first customer... Hyness~

The biggest change I probably did the to mix anime & game lore. (Kirby Star Allies) In KBASW AU... Morgan the one who convinced Hyness the Jamba Heart was what he needed to restore his clan. It's the reason she's able to stay hidden for a long while...Allowing the negative to naturally corrupt him and use him as a figurehead...

Despite giving him the Jamaba Heart... she did not tell him exactly how to break the seal on Termina... (Whoops she must have forgotten, how clumsy of her...) Purposely having him fail~

However, the secret to this lies with... FUMU!? Due to the reincarnation of the first ruler of Dreamland... she holds the key to unsealing & controlling Void Termina... She throws them to the wrong person. She's very much tricked into thinking she's helping "Kirby," but... yeah this happens instead.

And of course, there's always a price... though once you do realize you've been bamboozled, she'll remind you that she gave you a choice... Ultimately making you realize it's your own fault at the end of the day. Very much rubbing your head in the mess you've made for yourself. (which is exactly what she's doing to Tiff/Fumu right now.)

In summary, she pretty much invites you to be your worst self; she's the villain but deliciously so! :3

[rwrbmovie]

BTS of #RWRBMovie: V&A

Via Amazon:

NG: I think their time together at the Victoria and Albert Museum really sticks out to me as a defining moment of their relationship. My character, Henry, really shares the last frontier of his vulnerabilities and really opens Pandora's box in a way saying plainly to Alex, ‘This is my life. I'm terrified, but I'm willing to take this risk.’

From EW:

For Galitzine, who grew up going to the museum, it was a surreal experience. "I was born and raised in London and the V&A is an iconic place to visit — the galleries, the displays, exhibitions that have been on there. To be able to witness it in such a quiet state was really bizarre. Night shoots are disorienting at the best of times. It's 5:00 in the morning, you're trying to act and be emotional, and you're in this truly beautiful, picturesque setting. It was really cool to be able to explore it. It felt a bit like Night in the Museum. It was a weird, surreal but extremely enjoyable experience."

Director Matthew López didn't know for much of the pre-production process whether the V&A would even allow them to film there. "They were very, very protective as you could imagine," he tells EW. " Especially when we told them where we wanted to shoot, which is a lot of things we could break, and I really didn't want to be the guy who ended up breaking a priceless piece of statuary. But we ended up getting permission, and that was amazing." In McQuiston's novel, this key scene takes place in the Renaissance Gallery, which López and cinematographer Stephen Goldblatt visited while scouting in London. But while we still see Henry and Alex run through that gallery, they decided to choose another due to the V&A's filming parameters. "It's not the most photogenic gallery," explains López. "It's kind of dark and it's very, very big, so there's a lot of blank space between the statues. The chances that you're going to get just a white wall behind you are good. And it's very hard to shoot in there because the rule that the V&A had for us was that we couldn't bring in any exterior lighting. We could not bring it in our own lights." But Goldblatt had an idea to work around that limitation. "He led me to this area of the museum where we did end up filming it," the director continues. "That long, beautiful corridor with all those gorgeous statues filled with very homoerotic art, as well as that narrow alleyway of busts. We came back another night after closing, and he had them turn off everything, all the lights except for the spotlights that were there, illuminating the artwork. But turning off the floodlights that lit the gallery for people to walk around in. What you had in an instant was darkness everywhere and light shining on the art." Goldblatt manipulated the light further with a dimmer switch, creating an almost sacred environment in which Henry and Alex could express their love for each other. "We did not bring in any of our own lighting," emphasizes López. "That scene is shot with the lighting that's available to us at the V&A. We decided that the scene would be the boys for the most part in shadow and the statues illuminated. It was a beautiful use of a problem to create a better solution that you could not have come up with on your own if you had no problem."

From Glamour:

“My absolutely favorite scene to film was the night we shot inside the Victoria and Albert Museum,” says López of the scene depicted here. “We arrived at 10 p.m. and filmed until sunrise. To have access to that museum at night without any other people around made you feel what Henry and Alex must have been feeling the night they go there together. What made it so special is that, for one of the first times in the shoot, it was just me, Taylor, and Nick working. No other actors, no background players. It’s a magical scene in the book, and it was a magical night for all of us.” 

From HELLO:

In the film, as in the book, the pair dance together here as they vow to make their relationship work, come what may. This scene is also Matthew's favorite scene, "because it's the only scene in the film that is actually filmed at the location that it's set".  "That night was very beautiful and I think it's reflected in what you see on screen; there's a magic to that place at night and I like to think we captured it," he adds.

From NYT:

The two men under the dimmed lights were the actors Taylor Zakhar Perez and Nicholas Galitzine, and they swayed until the director, Matthew López, called “Cut!” around 2 a.m. for a lunch break. “It was just the three of us and our crew,” said López, who’s also the film’s co-writer. “It made for an incredibly intimate, really special night.”

From W Magazine:

There’s a sweet moment in the Victoria and Albert Museum. Why did you shoot in that sculptural exhibition? That’s not the gallery from the book. I went there with Stephen Goldblatt, my director of photography, and it wasn’t very cinematic. Stephen took me to another part of the museum, where we shot, with lower ceilings a more contained space with beautiful statues: David and Goliath, three women, the corridor of busts and torsos—very cinematic.

[misc-obeyme]

Barbatos is loved for his perfection, but what if we love him and were not perfect?

This is something I think about a lot. Barbatos is famously good at everything he does, and while that may simply seem impressive and admirable. I van only ever imagine it being slightly painful. Yeah, at the start, I'd be like "Wow, I love my multitalented boyfriend. I love to watch him work his magic." But then when it comes to something I also love doing, I'd just feel inferior.

I'll be using gardening as an example. I love gardening! I've had flower and vegetable gardens my whole life. In fact, I just planted one for this season, and I like to think I'm pretty good at it. So, when I ask Barbatos for some help with my garden, it'll all be fine and dandy, and we'll have a nice little gardening date. All is well until I go to the Demon Lord's Castle and bare witness to the huge gardens with herbs even the masters couldn't cultivate. (Simeon mentions this about Barbatos' Dark Thyme, I believe. Could be wrong, though)

So now, whenever I ask Barbatos for help in my garden, I can only feel that he's bored and believes I'm doing something wrong because he is so much better than I.

Even if it's not him who harnesses a skill, just someone he knows. Barbatos is the butler of the future king of the Devildom, meaning he attends all the balls, meaning he sees the live orchestra. Imagine how inferior I would feel when I find out Barbatos has seen the best cello players of all time play in front of him several times over. Do you think I'd ever want to play for him after that? No way!

That's another thing I often think about. Just the fact that he's done or seen far better shows of skill would completely put me off and make me not want to show him anything in the first place.

I know he'd say I'm silly and reassure me he loves me no matter what. He doesn't care about my level of skill! BUT I CARE ‼️

I think perhaps you're missing one very crucial thing here. Barbatos would love to help you with your garden because it's yours. He would love to hear you play the cello because it would be you he gets to hear. He would see you putting your heart and soul into something you love and that's the part that would matter the most to him.

Imagine that someone you love, who has never gardened before in their life, decides to start a garden. Would it bore you to help them? Or would you see that as an opportunity to flex your own gardening skills? Maybe you tell them about things that messed you up in the beginning and save them from undesirable results. Maybe you feel happy when they succeed because you gave them good advice. Maybe they come across a problem in their garden that you didn't have to deal with in yours, but with the experience you already have about gardening, you're able to help them find a solution.

I feel like I can give some insight on this concept in a more general sense and inevitably it informs how I think Barbatos would be.

I'm kind of known irl for being "the writer." And that means that people want to show me their writing. I've never once read someone else's writing and been like, wow I'm bored and I know I could write this so much better. It isn't my story. It's theirs. And it's theirs in a way that is unique to them. I could never hope to replicate it. Just because they're not as experienced at it as I am doesn't mean it isn't just as important as anything I've written. I get excited when I see people writing because I love to write and now this is a passion we share.

I think Barbatos would be absolutely thrilled that you enjoy gardening. Because it's something he enjoys, too. I don't think he would ever compare you to anyone else, whether you're gardening or playing the cello or writing or even making tea. It doesn't matter how skilled he is or how perfect he is. What matters is that you're doing something that you love and he gets to share a piece of that with you.

Everything has been done before and there will always be someone better at something than you. What makes that thing special is that it's yours. And I can't imagine for one second that Barbatos wouldn't understand that concept on such a deeply fundamental level that he probably doesn't even realize it.

[jokeringcutio]

ARTHUR HARROW X FTM READER - PART 3 (ASYLUM PATIENT HARROW)

Summary: You have a plan to expel Ammit from Arthur’s body and visit him in the asylum. Continuation of: You’re part of Arthur Harrow’s community, but hold a special place. Arthur Harrow (Cult Leader) x FTM Reader. Rating: Explicit (Contains smut Warning for non-con/dub-con, One-sided Breeding Kink from Harrow, talk about getting Reader pregnant, Praise kink, use of good boy, reader curses a few times. Words: 7059 Tags: Older man x younger (ftm) reader, non-con & dub-con and consensual intimacy, intercourse in a wheelchair, blowjob, (one-sided) breeding kink, praise kink, touching, kissing, explicit sexual content, bit of powerplay, you x the villainous cult leader, You rescuing Arthur.

( PART ONE HERE & PART TWO HERE )

Thanks to the wonderful supporter who commissioned this fic ♡

For: @apriltearsbringmayfears

THREE:

The asylum greeted you with an eerie warmth, the shared area a false haven with its pristine decor and faded wallpaper whispering tales of minds unraveling. A nurse, her smile a practiced curve of lips, extended a slender finger toward one of the many tables.

"Mr. Harrow is over there, sir," she murmured before drifting away, her steps silent on the carpeted floor.

And there he was. Arthur Harrow. At a table, in a wheelchair. It was so unexpected, so horrifying to see. He was so unlike himself that it made you forget to breathe. White clothes, stark against his pallid skin, purity tainted. Despite having been dressed smartly, he was a pale shadow of the man you once knew. A man who commanded the attention of many with just a whisper. Now, he seemed diminished, confined by metal and cushion, a king dethroned. His sandals with glass had been swapped for simple dark boots, even though he couldn’t walk any longer.

You carefully approached, each step a drumbeat in the quiet. The closer you got, the more details assaulted your senses. His hair, once a proud mane of brown, was now laced with silver strands that fell carelessly to his shoulders. It framed a face that had lost its vigor, the once bright blue eyes now dull mirrors reflecting a world turned grey.

The sight of him clawed at your insides, a visceral reaction. Your breath hitched; a bitter taste coated your tongue. Arthur, the man who once praised with rough affection, was now reduced to this. It was dehumanizing. A smudge of liquid discolored the front of his shirt, a mark of neglect that sent a surge of rage through your veins.

He was purity desecrated, devotion defiled. The scales tattooed on his arm, hidden beneath the sleeve of his blouse, lay dormant. Ammit's magic, once a force that tipped life and death at his whim was now trapped within a crumbling vessel.

You were here to right a wrong. To reclaim what was lost. To restore power to the hands that once held yours with a fierce tenderness. The sanctuary he built, the community he fostered – it wasn't meant to end like this. Curse Marc Spector. Curse Khonshu. Curse them all.

It had taken a while to find him and to find a solution for his holy problem, but you had managed. Rather late than never, you reasoned.

Your gaze found Arthur and time fractured, splintering into a thousand shards of memories.

His eyes met yours, and there it was – a spark, the faintest flicker of recognition and relief igniting in those blue depths. It was the same look that had once beckoned you into secret embraces, whispered sweet nothings laced with reverence. He might have been declared insane, but he still recognized you. Did he miss it, you wondered? Did he miss his community – not a cult – where your love had flourished under the guise of devotion?

"Hello, my good boy," he rasped, voice a ghost of its former command, yet it surged through you, rekindling an ember thought extinguished.

You closed the distance between you with hurried steps, your heart a frenzied drumbeat against your ribs. When you finally stood at his side, you reached for the cup he was reaching for, fingers brushing his. The contact was electric, a current of past intimacy jolting through you.

"Let me," you murmured, tilting the cup to his lips.

Gratitude etched itself onto his features, a softening around the eyes, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. You steadied his shaking hands, held firm as he drank. With each swallow, he seemed to grow stronger, more present.

“I knew it. Of all people, I knew you would come,” he rasped while you lowered the cup. A little trail of water trickled down the corner of his lips and you felt tempted to lean closer and kiss it away. But you couldn’t. Not with all these nurses and patients around who would be able to see.

“I apologize for any spillage,” Arthur’s husky voice brought you out of your thoughts and you tore your gaze away from his lips. Once your gaze met his again, you realized he must have seen you staring. “They keep me drugged so I can’t harm them,” here he smiled, but the drugs he mentioned must be paralyzing half of his face, for the smile turned into half a smirk. You could see that his fingers trembled.

You set the cup down, a cheap cardboard cup that already had dents in it. His hands lingered near yours, trembling with unspoken need, the ghost of his touch a whisper against your skin.

"Missed you," he rasped, voice gravel and honey. The words hung heavy in the air, a confession wrapped in two syllables. Your heart clenched – tight, painful – a fist around old memories.

"Arthur," you breathed out, a prayer, an oath. His name tasted of sacred secrets, of nights cloaked in reverence and sin. You leaned closer, felt the heat radiating from his body, saw the longing in his eyes.

"Can't think straight," he murmured, a crack in his composure. "She's in here." His hand fluttered to his temple, fingers pressing into gray flesh. "Screaming."

Your blood ran cold. Ammit. The goddess' fury, a tempest trapped beneath his skull. You imagined her roar, guttural and raw, echoing through the chambers of his mind. She must be angry and demanding revenge.

"She’s always screaming, doesn’t understand humanity," Arthur continued, voice a mere thread. "I can't control her."

"Shh," you hushed, a soothing balm. You placed your hand on top of his to stop the trembling, gently squeezing as a sign of comfort. "I'm here now." A vow, a promise etched into the marrow of your bones. You'd tear heaven asunder to quiet the storm within him.

His eyes met yours, darkening with unspoken feelings. Affection, you mused. Perhaps lust. It had been a while since you two last had held each other. Months. Too long. It was about time you relieved him from the goddess inside of him.

"And I have a plan,” you said, hiding a small smile.

“A plan?” he repeated, whilst you slowly let go of his hand, your fingers brushing past his cold knuckles. Why were his hands this cold, you wondered?

You rounded the table to come and stand behind him, flashing a small comforting smile at one of the nurses as she looked up – a signal sign that you were handling things with Harrow here.

“But for this, we need privacy,” you said, gripping the wheelchair's handles, your hands steadying the metal frame. You could see Arthur’s shoulders tense and then relax again, a sign of understanding. Then you started to push.

You maneuvered the chair with practiced ease, the wheels singing a lullaby against the sterile floor. Through hallways, around corners. Your eyes slid to the man you loved, studying him as he tried to sit straight in the wheelchair. You couldn’t help but see that even diminished to this, he was still so very tall. An imposing figure, with long legs and slender fingers, strong arms, his head held high. Arthur guided you with slight tilts of his head, each gesture a subtle command.

"Left here," he murmured, the timbre of his voice a caress against the chill air. A turn, then another. His room loomed ahead, simplistic and colorless as nearly every other room you had passed.

"In here," he said, and you obeyed. Your heart was beating loudly in your chest as you rolled him into his room and hit the brake.

The door shut with a click and you looked around. There wasn’t any way to lock the door from the inside. But you were in luck. The door swung into the room, instead of outward. Which meant you could use something to block the door. There wasn’t much, but you noticed a metal cabinet that looked too heavy to move. Nevertheless, you were going to try it.

You gritted your teeth and pushed. But as expected, the thing wouldn’t budge. Glancing around, you caught sight of a chair and wedged it beneath the doorknob. It would have to do.

"There," you breathed out before turning around to face Arthur. His gaze held yours, a curious look within it.

“The nurses are going to question that,” he said, and you chuckled, wiping your sleeve past the corner of your lips.

“I didn’t exactly bring any backup to stand on the watch out. But yeah, when I said privacy, I meant it.”

Arthur hummed, an indescribable look in his eyes.

Without explaining, you knelt in front of him, between his legs, and tugged the laces of his boots. Because Arthur was right. The nurses had their rounds and checkups. And Ammit wasn’t quite dormant in Arthur’s mind. If she caught the slightest whiff of what you were about to do, she could take full control. You had no doubt that even in his heavily weakened state, Arthur’s body was still capable of overpowering you. And Ammit would not hesitate to use his body to stop you.

There just wasn’t any time to waste.

The coolness of the floor seeped through the fabric of your pants, a chilling reminder of the sterility around you. Your hands reached for his boots, fingers brushing against the worn fabric. The intimacy of the act, simple yet profound, hung heavy in the air.

"Let me," you said, voice barely above a whisper, laced with affection. Arthur's eyes, oceans of azure marred by pain, widened slightly. As you took off his boots you felt relieved that there was no glass in them. The sandals with the shards were gone. Arthur’s feet were still scarred but didn’t look as bad as you’d feared they would.

A brush of his hand on your head made you halt and glance up at him. His fingers curled in your hair, gently combing, gently feeling, while he stared down at you through half-lidded eyes.

Oh. He must be mistaking your actions.

Well, shit. You couldn’t quite explain the ritual to him right now. Ammit might know what you’d be up to. Let him believe what he will, you mused. As long as you got his legs bare and were able to paint the hieroglyphics on his body.

A short glance at the black lipstick you’d brought along – it would have to do. You squeezed your fingers around it, grounding yourself and gathering all your courage before you looked up at Arthur again.

“I need these taken off,” you said, already reaching for his fly and unzipping it. You tried to shimmy it down his hips – which was quite the task when he was still seated in the wheelchair.

As you tugged, his fly fell open and out rose his enormous cock. Red and throbbing, the veins pulsing and the slit wet with pre-cum. You realized he wasn’t wearing any underwear underneath. Had the nurses not dressed him properly? Your mouth turned dry as you stared at his bobbing erection, not expecting him to be this aroused. The man was drugged for God’s sake! Whatever was this?

Your eyes widened, but as you started to look up to meet his gaze, something in his posture changed. Arthur's breath hitched, and suddenly, his hands – those strong, commanding conduits of divine wrath – were upon you, digging into your skull.

A low, hoarse moan escaped his throat. “How I missed you,” the words dripped like hot chocolate, velvety and rich with desire. You hadn’t even been able to lock eyes with him before he pushed your head down, your lips forcefully brushing past the head of his cock.

A deep gasp from his lips. “Ah, that is good,” he groaned as he pushed your head a little closer, the pungent scent of sweat and arousal making you feel heady. “My dear, dear boy.”

Before you could protest he pushed you forward, the tip of his shaft pressing against your lips and between them. And then the heavy taste of pre-cum and salty flesh filled your mouth as the hard flesh pressed down onto your tongue. You tried not to choke, not to gag when he hit the back of your throat without warning. Your fingers curled in the air before you pushed at his hips, hoping to push him away.

But if he caught sight of your distress, he ignored it. Instead of loosening his hold on you and letting you go, his grip tightened before he forcefully started to move your head up and down his shaft. Saliva coated whatever part of his member wasn’t inside your mouth, leaving a nasty wet trail that ran down the veined flesh and pooled around his sack.

The noises you made were sinful. Wet, gagging noises while he guided you up and down. The tip of his cock hit the back of your throat painfully, bringing tears to your eyes as you struggled to breathe. You tried to move your hands, but the lack of oxygen made your vision blurry and stole away your strength.

Arthur’s low grunts filled the room, staining the otherwise sterile environment. His hips moved slightly, meeting you thrust for thrust. Once, he dipped in so deep that you could no longer breathe, and held himself there. You thought you could hear his chuckle, devilish and low. You wondered if this was Arthur or the goddess who inhabited his body.

When stars clouded your vision and everything turned black, he finally pulled away, leaving you gasping for air. You tumbled forward, his hands no longer in your hair. But then you felt his fingers underneath your chin, lifting it, squeezing until your lips opened in an ‘o’, and in he went again.

You gurgled around his shaft, fighting not to choke and to keep breathing. But this time when he pushed deep into your throat, his other hand squeezed your nostrils shut, allowing you no way to breathe. He kept moving, thrust after delirious thrust, until you choked on his cum.

When he finally let go, you fell forward between his legs, struggling for air. A trail of cum and saliva fell from your lips and onto his inner thighs, spilling over his bare flesh and sticking to the hairs on his legs. He grunted, voice low and ominous, while his hands gently caressed the sides of your head.

“Good, that was good,” he praised, the softness of his touch sending you reeling.

You scrambled for the black lipstick you had dropped. With the position you were in, you would be able to draw the hieroglyphs on his legs, especially now that his pants came down with a simple tug. There was no time to waste.

“Such a shame it was all spilled thought,” you heard Arthur murmur, trying to give it no mind. “Should have been better spent inside, filling you up, nestling in those nice eggs of yours, turning you fat with my child.”

You leaned in a little closer, your nose brushing past his inner thigh, and drew the first glyph on his leg. But it was as if he didn’t even notice what you were doing to him. As if the fact that your head was still between his legs was enough to distract him.

Arthur raised a brow at you, silently showing surprise. Another misunderstanding, he clearly thought you wanted more. But you were convinced he wouldn’t be able to get it up again so soon after having his balls drained.

You were wrong.

While he played with your hair, fingers running gently past the shells of your ears and then your cheeks, you undressed his lower half and set to work. Still catching your breath, you managed to paint the simple hieroglyphics and, proud of yourself, you looked up to beam at him.

Only then did you notice the dark blue eyes that were fixed upon you, gaze intense, making you feel hot in the pit of your stomach. Arthur’s hand caressed your cheek, a gentle and kind movement after the roughness with which he had guided you before.

A twitching movement caught your attention and when you tried to peek from the corner of your eyes, you saw the angry red head of his shaft bob against his belly, the slit wet and weeping pre-cum again.

Your eyes widened, lips parted in surprise. No. How could he be aroused again that fast? And… had he even noticed what you’d been doing to him? Didn’t he understand that this was all part of the plan to free him?

Or was he aware of what you were onto, a little voice inside your mind said. Was he aware, but did he try to distract Ammit by touching you instead, making her believe that this was all some part of a sexual play between the two of you?

Was Ammit awake inside of him now?

You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to guess. All you knew was you had to be careful. Just another symbol on his back and the verse you had taught yourself…. and the goddess would be expelled from his body.

You didn’t have time to ponder on the subject any longer. Arthur leaned forward, his shadow falling over you, seizing your wrists with a firmness that felt possessive. He pulled you up, erasing the space between you, having you struggle to stand on your feet as he drew you close.

His lips found yours, uncaring about the taste of his own cum that still lingered there. The kiss he gave you was passionate, yearning, and ignited a familiar fire within. You melted into him, relishing the taste lingering on his tongue, the rough edge of his stubble scraping against your skin. He still tasted mostly the same. You missed the lentil undertone, but in essence, this was still your Arthur.

When the kiss broke, reality rushed back in. You were supposed to save him. As Arthur's rough hands grabbed your hips, he supported himself on the armrests of his wheelchair, grinding his hips against yours. You could feel his warmth and need through your pants, a heat that seared and burned through the thin fabric.

His hand trailed up your shirt, pinching your nipple between his strong fingers. The stinging sensation sent a jolt of lust straight to your core. Enough was enough, you thought, as you pushed against his chest. But his lips were on yours again, capturing them. His cock twitched between your legs, pressing against your still-clad erection.

“Arthur,” you finally managed to croak when his lips finally left yours, but he dove in again, his hands fumbling with your pants until you felt him open your fly. His hand was on your cock, gently tugging and stroking, while his lips traced to your neck.

“No,” you whimpered. “This wasn’t-”

"Praise be to Ammit," the low murmur made you freeze on his lap, allowing him the chance to push a digit into your hot and throbbing core. Your walls squeezed together at the touch, thighs clenching as he started a slow pace. Unwelcome, but oh-so good.

Arthur grinned against your neck, you felt his canines scrape past your skin. His finger moved deeper, firmer, erupting a yelp from your lips. It was now or never, you thought. It was clear he wanted more. You fumbled with the lipstick but realized he still needed the symbol on his back, and his upper half was still dressed. Groaning, you moved your hips, sitting up on your knees. Arthur misinterpreted the movement and instantly abused your position to pull your pants down. With his fingers gone from your core, you felt you could think again.

You instantly started to tug at Arthur’s jacket, relieved that he moved along so it could slide from his arms. Of course, he’d think you wanted to have him undressed to have sex. Well, you could indulge him a little.

But when you tugged on Arthur’s shirt he surprised you by capturing your wrists in his large hand, squeezing almost painfully.

“Aren’t you eager,” he said, grinning. A lazy thrust against your thigh alerted you of his hard cock, pre-cum slipping past your skin, so very near your core. When had he managed to take your pants off entirely? How had he managed to get your core exposed this swiftly?

Confused, you sat back to look up at him, attempting to avoid accidentally sitting on his hard weeping cock. He grinned when he saw you were avoiding him, but seemed to take it as a challenge. The grip on your wrists tightened while he leaned his head forward, his forehead pressed against your cheek as you heard him take a deep breath.

“Oh no, dear boy, you’re going to let me come inside of you. And you’re going to take all I have to give you, is that clear?”

You breathed loudly, pressing your lips into a firm line, as he lifted you onto his lap. You straddled him, your legs trembling with anticipation and fear. With one swift motion, he impaled you onto him, making you cry out as fuck- it hurt! Yes, he had been preparing you, and yes, you were slick. But damn, your head was elsewhere. Occupied with the ritual. You’d wanted the intimacy to wait until after Ammit was out of his body. The gods only know how that crocodile-headed goddess was experiencing this intimacy. Was she enjoying ravaging you? Did she feel Arthur’s orgasms as if they were her own?

“Arthur,” you said, his name coming out like a plea, as if you were begging. Perhaps you were. But his lips thinned and his eyes darkened. The grip on your wrists was unyielding, forcing you up and down on top of his shaft until you saw no other alternative but to wrap your legs around his waist and move along.

You gasped your own cock feeling hopelessly neglected. You were aware that you must be looking flushed, that your eyes had never left Arthur’s since he started thrusting inside of you. Damn it, you had a task to do.

A strangled moan escaped your lips as he filled you completely, bottoming out, stretching you in ways you hadn't been in months. Arthur's eyes were locked onto yours, his blue orbs blazing with desire and something else- power. His hips ground into yours, rocking the wheelchair, as he whispered in your ear, "Good boy," his breath hot and ragged.

You groaned, your body taking the full impact of his blows. If this man was drugged to restrain him, then how hard would the thrusts have been if he hadn’t been drugged? You threw your head back, finally breaking the eye contact, and enjoyed the feel of Arthur’s hands roughly exploring your skin.

“Still so darn tight,” the man muttered, his lips seeking the hollow of your throat before he nipped there. “Like I’m fucking a damn virgin over and over again.”

You felt how he grinned against your skin, felt the sharp tips of his canines against your pulse as he mercilessly kept thrusting deep inside your core. “But you’re no innocent boy, are you?”

You shook your head, crying out involuntarily when another particular hard thrust had you bounce nearly off his legs. You clawed at his chest, fingers grabbing a hold of his shoulders. The lipstick pressed against his pale skin, the cold container of it tight against his burning flesh.

Something in his eyes glistened, dark and knowing. Was he aware? But then he increased his pace and you were left crying and gasping because each thrust it something deep inside that wasn’t just good, but also painful. In a way, it helped bring you back to your senses. You realized that for a moment you’d become lost in the passion, the arousal, the lust of it all. The pain was bringing you down to earth, even if it was a good sort of pain. The type that made your tummy tingle, your cock quirk and your walls squeeze him even tighter.

You fumbled with the makeup, trying your best to draw the symbol on Arthur’s back without being able to see the shape. Arthur’s irregular and sometimes even cruel pace made the task nearly impossible, but you clung onto him, hearing his ragged breaths and feeling his heart beat against your skin. Chest to sweat chest, you held him in an embrace – it was the only way you could reach his back.

He was grunting, his hips moving against your own. Wet, sloppy sounds reached your ears, distracting you.

You heard how Arthur swallowed, then felt his hands slide down your back before he squeezed your ass. “Going to come so hard inside of you,” he growled, his voice raw and animalistic.

“Going to come so hard you’ll see stars.” Thrust. “Fuck my child into you,” sloppy. Another thrust. “Fuck you until you can’t walk, till you’re round and fat with my babies.” A particularly painful deep thrust, as if he tried to prove his point – as if he tried to push his cock past your cervix and into your womb.

If you would have had either left.

The goddess, you thought, this time more certain of it. Trust Ammit to try and have Harrow fuck her out of him. You smirked, wondering if that would have been a possibility. But with you, it wouldn’t work.

Arthur’s taste was different than hers.

He fancied you. And you’d take everything he would give you.

Throwing your head back again when Arthur nibbled at your neck, you drew the last line. Just in time, because Arthur’s rhythm became more punishing. Finally, he seemed to remember your pleasure, for his hand went down between your bodies and you felt his fingers stroke your cock.

You groaned, feeling his cock deep inside your tight canal, feeling his calloused fingertips slide past your most sensitive part. And then you came apart.

You cried out, body trembling as you tightened around him.

It seemed to be enough, for Arthur gasped your name, hips jerking against your own, thrusts shallow while your body was flooded with warm juices. His hot cum filled you up, just like he had promised, but started to trickle down his still pulsing shaft.

The words came out through gritted teeth in the order you had remembered them. Arthur was caught in his afterglow, not able to fully hear or understand what you were saying. But you grasped his shoulders and held him in an embrace, pushing his head against your flat chest, speaking louder and louder.

His body started to tremble. This time, you could hear the roar he must have heard for months inside of his head. The goddess he had revered for so many years broke loose from his skin. You’d done it.

Arthur's body stiffened in your arms, his blue eyes wide with shock and betrayal. Blood spilled from his lips, staining your chest as his grip on you loosened. You scrambled out of his lap, taking the opportunity to stand up and back away. A mixture of his semen and your slick trickled down your legs. You saw how Arthur’s eyes focused on that.

The symbol on his back began to glow an otherworldly green, the air around you charged with a supernatural energy. Then, as if in slow motion, Arthur Harrow's body began to convulse and contort. Bones cracking, skin splitting, you stared in horror and fascination as a monstrous form began to emerge from the man you loved.

The room seemed to be bathed in a green light entirely now. As if you were on a set for a movie. You couldn’t pinpoint the source, but you knew it wasn’t natural.

Before you, Arthur slumped in his chair. His head lolled to the side and for a moment you feared he was dead. That empty gaze that rested upon you, unblinkingly, wasn’t normal. And so you cried out his name in despair.

The figure that had risen before him, like a mist that had been torn out of his body, growled at you and said something in an ancient language you didn’t fully understand. But you knew she teased you. She was angry, despite you helping her out.

Wasn’t that what she had wanted all along? To be free again?

The larger-than-life goddess spread her beak wide, sharp teeth snapping at you. She rose a few feet into the air, then seemed to shrink in on herself. Dark mist swirled around her, enveloping her. And then a rush of wind brushed past you, so hard and fast – as if a hurricane had hit the room. You had to shield your head with your arms and close your eyes. A loud bang to your side indicated where she had gone, because when you opened your eyes again, she was no longer to be seen.

An air vent to your left was left shattered. So… she had escaped through there, eh?

You would have rejoiced, but seeing Arthur’s lifeless body in the wheelchair had you in tatters. What the fuck was this? He wasn't supposed to die! You were supposed to save him and get rid of that powerful being who had been tormenting him from the inside.

As you scrambled over to Arthur’s body slumped in the wheelchair, you tripped a few times, sliding over the slick that had dropped from your body and the discarded items of clothing that were left there. You heard rushed footsteps in the hall. Would the nurses come and check? The chair was still blocking the door.

No, don’t think of that. When you finally arrived by Arthur’s side and grabbed his arm to check for his pulse, he stirred. You’d never been so relieved. Ever.

Flinging your arms around his neck, you hugged him close. “By the gods,” you breathed, tears already stinging the corners of your eyes. “Don’t ever do that to me again,” you murmured, laughing when you heard confused noises escape Arthur’s throat.

He blinked up at you, blearily, and then finally grinned. Ah, there he was again. Your man, your leader.

“I would never dare to leave my favorite disciple behind,” he said, a low chuckle escaping him as he returned the hug with trembling arms. Ammit might have left him, but the drugs certainly hadn’t left his body.” Even if I have to find a new religion,” he lamented.

“Not going to bravely rush after her and offer yourself as her new avatar then, I take it?’ You asked with a smirk.

“Naah, not quite in the mood for it,” Arthur murmured. He looked at you with a familiar softness, a gaze that spoke of the love he felt for you. Then, his eyes traced down your naked body and he frowned.

“I am so sorry, you must be sore. With how I… how we… handled you.”

But you already raised a hand and shushed him. “It’s all right, Arthur. I wasn’t necessarily in the mood for it, but it made a great distraction.”

Arthur grinned again. “I always knew you liked the ‘D’.”

And you blushed because… “What do you mean?” You narrowed your eyes at him, but playfully.

“The ‘D’,” Arthur simply repeated, sounding more tired now that the goddess was out of him. “From distraction.”

“Oh,” you frowned but had to admit the wordplay was rather clever. You placed a hand on your hip and sighed, looking at the scattered articles of clothing on the floor in front of you. You’d have to gather them and get dressed quickly before the nurses would arrive. Also, the chair….

“And of course, you also like the other ‘D’. I mean, you liked it so much you got yourself not one, but two.”

Here you frowned at Arthur while you started to collect his shirt and pants from the floor, wincing as you had to bend over – your insides were sore. “Two?”

Arthur pointed at your cock, no longer erect, and you flushed.

“Ah, well,” you started, ready to say something clever when you were interrupted. The door shuddered, a violent prelude to chaos. One kick, then a second one. They only needed two. Wood splintered as the barrier burst inward, the chair flung across the room, spinning on its legs.

Heart hammering, you twisted around, Arthur's naked vulnerability suddenly exposed under the harsh glare of intrusion. A man stood in the doorway, his ominous silhouette casting a shadow into the room. You used the clothes you held in your hands to shield your body from him and give yourself some modesty.

You didn’t recognize the man in the doorway, but by the sharp intake of breath from Arthur, you instantly knew that they were acquainted. And whoever this man was, he meant nothing good.

“Come to visit, Mr. Spector?” Arthur drawled with a feigned confidence.

Oh, so this was Marc Spector? You’d heard all about him but hadn’t had a proper look yet. You slowly turned your gaze to the newcomer again, he looked rather rugged. Red shaded the skin underneath his eyes, his gaze dark and aimed at Arthur.

Arthur didn’t seem intimidated though, and despite being naked and vulnerable in his wheelchair, he lifted his arm – which was a very floppy movement thanks to the drugs – and circled his hand in an open gesture.

“I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a rather inconvenient time.” He then gestured the lame hand at his naked lap, his half-hard cock resting on his right thigh, the skin still shiny – covered in your combined juices.

Marc didn’t bat an eye. How many naked people had he run into during his lifetime? How could he stand cool and emotionless like this?

He stood there for a moment longer, glaring daggers at Arthur while you studied Marc’s dark coat, his brimmed had that cast a shadow over his eyes, the contempt which lay in his gaze. Then, his lips curled into a sneer, voice dripping disdain.

"Quite the holy communion," he spat, eyes raking over Arthur. There was an odd accent to his voice. You weren’t the only one who noticed it.

A gasp tore from Arthur's throat, his body tensing. "There’s something different about you," he said, voice calm while his whole body showed he was anything but. He was unnerved – a rare sight to see, and you were instantly on alert. Was Marc going to kill him?

You knelt down as the two men had a stare-off and quickly discarded Arthur’s clothes in favor of picking up your own pants. You dressed while you watched as Marc chuckled. He shook his head, bringing a gloved hand to the brim of his hat. You heard him mutter something. Was that Spanish? Arthur seemed to catch it too for his eyes widened.

“You can’t harm me,” he murmured, a slight twitch in his thigh. He was nervous and tried not to show it. You zipped your fly and picked up Arthur’s clothes again, hesitating. Should you step between them?

But Marc brought his hand to his waistband and revealed a black gleaming gun. He aimed at Arthur’s chest, and you watched as your lover’s hands rose in defense and surrender.

“No,” his voice sounded broken, hoarser than you’d ever heard him before. “Please.”

You couldn’t watch this and stepped in between, uncaring if Marc would hit you in the chest and kill you. It was a risk you were willing to take.

“For god’s sake, this man is defenseless,” you seethed, clutching the white clothes in your hands. You felt the soft squelch of Arthur’s semen as it dripped from your nether region.

“God’s sake?” Marc cocked his head, the gun still aimed at your chest. But he had let go of the trigger, his finger free in the air. Surprise, no matter how faint, was visible in his features.

“Yes,” you snapped at him, anger seeping from your pores. “I just brought him back and now you wish to murder him?” You flailed your arms about, Arthur’s clothes accidentally slapping against Marc’s chest in the progress, but you were too focused on your rant.

“If you came for some petty revenge then I am going to point you to the door. It’s there, Behind you. There,” you shouted, pointing over his shoulder. In the distance, you could hear the quick shuffling of feet and the rushed voices of the nurses. They must have heard the consternation and worriedly came to check what was going on.

Just great. This was the last thing you needed.

“You’re not Marc,” Arthur rasped from behind your back, rubbing his own cheek weakly. “And you’re not Steven either. Who are you?” he commanded.

“The name’s Jake,” the man you previously assumed to be Marc answered, almost sounding annoyed. “Jake Lockley. I’ve not time for this chitchat.”

“You go and tell your twin if he wants Ammit gone he has to chase her. Because she just legged it,” you growled, ready to push against Jake’s chest. Luckily you could contain the impulse. You had no idea how strong this stranger in front of you actually was.

Jake’s eyes flickered. The gun drooped, its threat ebbing away like a tide leaving the shore. Skepticism curled Jake's lip, but his gaze slid past you, to where the vent lay twisted, a gaping maw in the wall. A string of Spanish curses spilled from him, raw and biting. He backed away, the hunt reignited in his eyes.

"Damn it," he snarled before whirling on his heel, coat billowing like the wings of a vengeful spirit.

You heard the confused yelps of the nurses. Surely he would need their help to get out. You were in a sanatorium, a psychiatric ward. They had locked doors and special keycards everywhere.

Without hesitating you rushed after him, throwing Arthur his clothes to cover up. He caught them, holding them tightly in his lap just in time before the first nurse arrived. She gasped when she saw the door dangling from only one of its hinges.

As you ran out of the room, you had to push past a few more nurses before you finally caught up with Jake.

“You’re with him?” one of the nurses asked. Luckily, Jake didn’t deny it, and though you couldn’t find it in you to talk, a nod was enough to have her open the door for you both. You followed him outside to where a cab was waiting and watched him as he yanked the door open.

Inside the car, you could faintly distinguish a tall shape. A figure larger than life. Khonshu. God of the moon, was draped in ethereal robes that ripple like quicksilver. Jake turned to yell something over his shoulder. Spanish again. The god seemed disturbed, but unmoving.

“And who is that boy?” The god’s words surprised you and you froze.

Finally, Jake seemed to acknowledge your presence. He turned toward you, a foul sneer curling his lips downward while he reached for the door.

“Consider yourself lucky, boy. Go back to fucking that old shell of a bastard, before my master changes his mind and wants to kill the fucker.”

The door smashed closed before you could say anything. You watched, heart thudding, as they peeled away from the curb, tires screeching a frantic hymn to the chase.

Well, that was that then. Would they leave Arthur alone now, you wondered? And where had Ammit gone?

As you looked up, though, you could see the goddess had left a trace of destruction in her wake. During her escape, she had torn apart both buildings and roads. Not major damage such as broken down or collapsed buildings. But little things such as dangling roof tiles, broken windows, and split asphalt on the roads.

Returning to Arthur, you weren’t surprised to find a group of nurses had gathered there, lamenting the state of his room. It took you about an hour to get them to calm down and to help Arthur to a new room. All the while, you were stubbornly ignoring the questions and glances you received because they had found Arthur in a state of undress.

Why did they even wonder if anything sexual had happened? It was obvious, right?

Once everyone and everything had settled down, you and Arthur were seated at the same table you’d found him at earlier that day, sharing a drink. He seemed less shaken, though slightly more withdrawn into himself. As if he was thinking about everything he had learned today.

"Khonshu," you finally said. "He was with Jake."

Arthur's gaze lifted, bright blue eyes searching yours. “That answered my question,” he said, voice a low whisper.

You raised a brow, curiously.

“I already wondered if Khonshu had chosen Marc, or Steven, because he would be easy to break. Figures he was already broken.”

You smiled gently and squeezed his hand in your own, relieved when he returned your smile.

"How are you?" you asked, voice laced with concern that scratches at your throat. It’s not every day that you almost get murdered. Or have a goddess exorcised out of your body.

"I'm alive because of you," he rasped, his words heavy with gratitude. You were already holding one of his hands, but he now gently placed his other hand on top.

"Listen to me, Arthur," you said. "I will get you out of here. Now that you’re sane again, you don’t belong here any longer. I’ve already spoken to one of the nurses and I’m having another chat before I leave. But I’m not leaving you behind. We’re going to find a way to get you out of here. You’re going to be free again."

Trust flickered in his eyes, a flame rekindled. His smile broke through the greyness.

“I can’t wait to be out of here, you know what I really missed?”

You eyed him suspiciously. Me? But instead, you said, “What?”

“Lentil soup.”

You groaned.

“You know what, you can stay another day-”

He cut you off, his lips soft against your own. Behind you, you could swear to hear the exasperated voices of the nurses. But you didn’t care. You were going to get Arthur out of here.

Your Arthur. The man who would soon be back at your side. Indefinitely.

[freetobeeyouandme]

Chapter 13: Will Sets Himself On Fire

In which Mike babysits a possessed Cleric, a monster throws a tantrum, and Will has a rather extreme solution to their problem. And, yes, the title may give you a hint already. It's great fun, and it's up on Ao3 now!

Tags: M, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Fantasy AU, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Horror, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn

Summary:

Mike Wheeler hates High School, so when he almost dies and falls through a portal to another world, he’s not going to complain. Especially not when that world does not only have swords and magic but seems to work exactly according to the rules of his favorite tabletop role-playing game. But his euphoria might be short lived because the party of adventurers he falls in with turns out to be the target of an evil god and the fate of the world might rest on their shoulders. So, exactly like his games of D&D. Except the wanna-be Paladin soon realizes that being a hero is much harder in real life than it is in-game. - Or, Mike gets isekai’d into a world where D&D is real.

An excerpt and taglist below the cut:

Excerpt:

Will follows his every move, head tilted towards him so he can hear Mike’s steps better. He had gone still while Mike looked through his sketches, but as Mike comes back to life, so does the Cleric.

Had the others been gone long enough for them to be safe? Was any distance safe when Will, One, and the demo-monsters shared some kind of hivemind?

But then again, One hadn’t shown himself. Either he knew that the cabin must be deserted because they would not all stay behind with Will, or he didn’t know where they were because Mike was right about the nature of their connection.

Outside it is well and truly dark, and Mike feels the exhaustion of trying to stay up all night start to tug on his eyelids. So, when was safe?

In the end it is the madness that grew in his own silence like bacteria in a vat that makes the decision for him. He grabs some more bread and meat from his pack and steps close to Will.

“There is no point in attacking me,” he says. “I’m alone.”

He hopes that isn’t the wrong information to give the monster in control of his friend.

“I have food, if you’re hungry?”

Will sits still, facing Mike in the way the blind did, his head angled towards him but missing him by an inch.

Mike watches him patiently, waiting for either approval or denial, and perhaps most of all for violence. When Will just continues looking at him he drops the food on his chair and rounds the dragonborn. Whoever had fastened his gag had done a good job, because Mike can barely get it loose, and he has both of his hands free and can actually see what’s going on.

Will tests his jaw as the binding comes loose, but remains quiet. Mike tries to interpret that as a good sign. He isn’t sure that he could have stopped the Cleric from casting a spell if he’d started to recite one, but his silence is, if more unsettling, at least less dangerous.

Careful with his steps he rounds Will, grabbing the food where he’d deposited it. He holds up the bread first, gently tapping Will’s mouth to let him know where it is.

But Will doesn’t take a bite.

“I’ll gag you again if you don’t want to eat,” Mike says, although he knows it’s a weak threat.

The thing inside of Will regards him accordingly. When Mike retracts the bread, it says in a voice that sounds far too close to Will’s: “I will not speak to you. Where are my friends?”

“Our friends are gone,” Mike says, trying to put the food away without taking his eyes off his enemy. “I’m all you’ll get.”

“Left behind for your inadequacy, I’m sure.”

Mike squares his jaw, trying to not let the words get to him. He had suggested this. Will was right, but he had chosen this because he knew they’d be better off without him.

He wordlessly grabs the gag cloth and reaches for Will’s jaw, meaning to refasten it.

Will – or the thing inside of him – understands perfectly, though, and that is when untying it in the first place becomes a really bad idea: He can’t see, but the moment Mike’s fingers brush the scales on his face, he turns his face and snaps at him.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added): @smalltownwheeler @wheelerpilled @wrong-energy @foodiewithdahoodie @doggozzy @gardenfairie @beelikesbirds @beverlysclown @yickarus @sourdough-el @hessolivagant @hesquietoday @oldfashionedmorphine @total-serene560 @bylersrise @hawkinsunderground @generalstorecashier @snixx @camel-casing @bylersbear01 @turningsoft @casatoan @maru-chu @mid13s @goldentrunks @bunnybylerfangirl @willbyersenthusiast @letterstomichelangelo @drowninginideas @fluffyfangirl @artsyna @absolutelynotyouidiot @bymarara @unknowmiau @are-you-reddie @elherself134 @longtallglasses @kennahjune @easilyentertained99 @bylerschapter @father-imperator @bylerina

[nobredoesart]

Magic in The Dragon Prince

The Arcanums are something that has always fascinated me, but I feel like they are only explored on the surface level. Such a deep, conceptual part of the world building should be expanded on, and payed far more attention than it is, because it simple deserves it, ya know? So, with the elf redesigns semi-established, let's establish some basics. I originally was going to also post about the individual Arcanums in this post, but it was getting overly long, so, we'll get to it eventually.

The Primal Sources are the sun, moon, earth, sky, ocean and stars. They all play a role within the world, and have their equal and opposite in one another, sources of power and encompassing most of living existence, with their apex (besides what represents them) being found within the dragons.

Each of the sources have an Arcanum, which is effectively their philosophical meaning, the meaning behind them, the identity forged within the soul of each being that is tied to them. Arcanums can't just be studied, they must be groked to achieve connection, and each individual one can take a lifetime to understand if one doesn't have the aid of a teacher or tool, though most elves and magical creatures are born with an inherent Arcanum that they know already. Learning an Arcanum shifts how you view the world, and for creatures that already have an Arcanum, it's a horrible, cognitively dissonant experience, akin to heavy dysphoria.

The Primal Sources do also have associated types of magic, though most do overlap a decent amount. They can bend the rules to create something that would usually be considered part of the other source's prerogative. Due to this divide, different mages often rely on creative solutions to similar problems, or lean hard into the support of differing primal mages, due to the simple reality that is helpful for them to do so. Mage groups are somewhat frequent in travelers, as is the sharing of knowledge and spellbooks throughout the Academic Circles in Xadia, though it is a minuscule number when compared to the Human Kingdoms, which have whole libraries of spellbooks publicly accessible. There are exceptions, because some mages, be they wizards, witches, shamans, artificers or sorcerers of any kind, can develop a great deal of secrecy regarding their magic. Dragons especially, because OF COURSE DRAGONS ARE MAGES IT'S SILLY THAT THEY DON'T USE MORE MAGIC. They are the apex of their primals, and most mages have learned magic from dragons, hence why most primal magic stems from Draconic Runes (which are just, the written version of Draconic Speech).

Establishing something important: Humans do not understand Arcanums, nor are they even super familiar with the concept. To them, the Primals are just different flavors of magic and symbols that the elves use. They are not some grandiose deep understanding of the world, but simple sources of power. Which every human mage in the series would eventually be confronted with eventually. Personally, I believe that Callum would still primarily connect with the Sky, and given the opporunity, Viren would connect with the Stars and Claudia would connect with the Ocean, which I think will become clearer once I explain the Primals properly.

Dark Magic is different. Dark Magic, much like the show, is the practice of tearing out the magic from a creature that possesses it, and using it for your spells. But even this will have some slight alterations:

1. The mage in question isn't just tearing out the magic. They are effectively imbuing themselves with a fleeting understanding of an Arcanum, and using that understanding to create a magical connection within themselves. The knowledge of the Arcanum fades immediately after the spell. It corrupts the Soul, forcing the mage's mind to process a complex philosophical identity that is not their own, which damages the body as well. 2. This damage is, in part, irreversible. Callum, for example, upon using Dark Magic has categorically corrupted part of his mind, which affects how he will process the Arcanum he used in those spells, due to the simple nature that whatever part of him that would've naturally accessed the Arcanum is now strained. Physical changes, like the ones seen in Viren and Claudia are a sign that the body is starting to break down under the stress. 3. Incantations aren't just reversed fancy speech, though that is a cool idea that I want to keep! They are, effectively, the translation of what piece of the Arcanum the Dark Mage in question is drawing on.

That is all for now, more to come!

[spooky-all-year-round]

Complicated Puzzle

Curse breaker!Sebastian x plus size wife!Reader

Shameless smut, curse breaker Sebastian comes home and needs your special "help" solving a case. Obviously, these characters are aged up to be +18.

TW: oral (female receiving), swearing, face riding, man handling, accidental orgasm denial, threats of not getting to cum, slight orgasm denial (but the reader does end up cumming), mention of previous weight worry (briefly mentioned), dominate Seb

After so many years of being together Sebastian and you had found many ways to help make life go smoothly. In school you two didn't communicate properly and it would more often lead to a fight instead of solving the problem. Now you two have come up with many ways to solve the problems that pop up. Sometimes the solutions stop the problem from even occurring.

One night early in your relationship, Sebastian was frustrated from a problem at work and wanted to "relieve some stress" with you. He had you on your back with your legs spread open. His arms were wrapped around each of your thighs to keep them from closing as he eats you out. Slowly and methodically he ran his tongue up and down your pussy, sometimes sticking his tongue in as deep as he could. His thumb was going in slow circles around your clit. He had been at this for so long it was making you dizzy with need. There was a point that he had switched to have his fingers in and out of you while his tounge flicked quickly over your nub, turning you into a moaning mess. You had finally started getting close to cumming when all the sudden he pulled away.

"THAT'S IT!" He punctuated his shout by completely pulling away and dashing out of bed. He went running to his desk in the next room over leaving you naked on the bed and completely stunned. Needless to say you followed after him and had some choice words to say. He explained himself quickly and excitedly that while he was eating you out his mind was able to clear and relax. That suddenly the answer came to him because of his relaxed mind. It was to a riddle he needed in order to find some place he had been spending two weeks obsessing over. He had jumped up to write it down, not wanting to forget. You huffed and puffed, frustrated over the situation but also understanding why it was so important. Let's just say he spent the rest of the night making it up to you repeatedly.

It had been quite years since that happened but the thought still caused to to smile and shake your head. You were glad to help, and his puppy like excitement made it hard for you to stay mad. Ever since then you were always willing to "help" with his problem solving. But he had to make sure to not just jump out of bed the moment he got the answer. This led him to finding many interesting ways to either write down his idea while still taking care of you or to help you get off faster.

You laughed a little at the memory as you went about putting away dinner. You magically cover and make sure his food stay warm before making your way to your shared room. As you slip into your night gown you hear the front door open and close. But it closes slightly harder than normal, not a slam, but something was definitely up.

Before you could even get to the door of your room, Sebastian was coming through the door. He lifts you up and brings you to the bed. He drops you onto it before climbing into it himself. "Beautiful, I need that sexy pussy right now. So get over here and sit on my face like a good girl, and *don't* say a word about being too heavy. If i have to pull you onto my face you will not cum tonight. Understand?" His voice was completely serious, and his eyes were dark with frustration.

Knowing how serious he was, you quickly stripped off your nightgown and panties before climbing fully onto the bed. You straddle his face and get situated quickly before lowering your pussy directly onto his face without hesitation. You can hear a muffled "Fuck yes," before he begins his work.

You could already feel yourself becoming wet from his demanding words and low, rough voice. His hands wrap around your thighs before he begins licking your folds and enterance eagerly. His right hand reached over your thigh to your pussy. He moves his tongue enough to keep tasting you while his thumb gathers some of your juices. He spreads it to your clit and makes slow movements with his thumb against it.

You can feel the pleasure slowly spreading through your body. Your moans begin to fill the room the longer he plays with you. It doesn't take long for him to get you dripping wet. His tongue begins to thrust in and out of your pussy, his thumb still moving perfectly against your clit. After so many years together he has learned exactly how to get the reaction he wants from you. His movements were steady but precise. Every once in a while he would move his thumb so that he could lick and gently suck on your clit. But whenever you got even slightly close to an orgasm he would go back to how he was before.

You both stayed like this for a while, your legs trembling from the need to cum. One of his hands and his other arm held your thighs still so that you could not move your hips. You could only kneel there and take the sweet torture he was giving you.

After a while you hear and feel his muffled sound of excitement. He had figure out whatever he was working on. You swallowed, with how long he had been building you up, and how many times he had almost made you cum, you knew this was going to be a big orgasm.

It is barely a few seconds later before his hand that was playing with your clit pulls away. Your whine is cut off when he replaces his thumb with his mouth. He begins sucking on your clit, his tongue rubbing against it at the same time. Your hands grip his hair and he moans from your taste and the slight tug on his hair.

His hand moves underneath you to push two fingers into your dripping pussy. He prods around looking for your g-spot. But he finds it quickly and begins thrusting his fingers in and out quickly. He angles his hand just right so that he is relentlessly prodding your g-spot, drawing out liuder mkans from you. Your orgasm begins to build quicky. Your moans growing louder as your back arches in pleasure. He presses down on your hip with his free hand so you couldn't buck your hips. Allowing him to fully control how fast and intense he was going to make you orgasm.

You can feel your pussy begining to tighten around his fingers. Your pleasure was reaching every part of your body. His moans send vibrations straight to your clit and his hand works and fast as it can. It isn't long before your eyes roll back and you cum hard on his fingers, your legs tremble and your grip has to move to the pillow his head is resting on. You moan is as loud as a shout as your orgasm washes over your whole body.

He groans against your clit. As much as he wants to drink every drop of your release, he wants to make sure to help you through your orgasm. He stops sucking as hard on your clit but continuing to lick it. His fingers slow down as you begin to relax after your orgasm. As you sigh happily his tongue dips down to lick your folds and enterance, savoring the taste of your juices.

He lets go so you can pull yourself off his face once you are ready. When you unstraddle his face, you find him with a huge grin. His freckled cheeks and chin are soaked with your juices. He licks his lips and as much as he can around his lips. "Thank you, Love!" He makes a mad dash to his office in the next room, completely ignoring his hard cock as it strains against his trousers. You let out a breathy laugh before laying down on the bed, trying to catch your breath so you would be ready for round two when he gets back from writing down his answer.

[ladyryukyo]

Hello, I hope work is going ok

Haha, I also hope this is somewhat coherent, but I am very bad at assembling my thoughts into something that resembles a narative, but here are some thoughts that has been carouseling my mind:

Recently, I have been thinking abou beyblade fantasy AU's: A grant adventure, a world fractured into many fighting factions (some human, some elven, some with magic powers and so on), soon to be overshadowed by The Great Dark Lord Nemesis™️

The legendary bladers are propheciesed to save the world, and as of now most of them traveling together on some great mission to raise an army to defeat Nemesis or smth (everyone except Ryuga? Have a very hard time imagining him going anywhere with anyone). However the legendary bladers are NOT a cohesive unit, they are from different factions and have a hard time trusting each other 😔 </3

Along with this, I've been thinking a lot about armor: how to make it functional and actually protective, while still evoking the feel of the bladers original outfit... (ok actually I've mostly I have been thinking about how to make armor, that looks like a crop top with a big billowy coat for Kyoya, but at the same time actually protect his vital organs)

My solution for now is probably layering some chain mail under some cut up shirts, but then I ran into my second problem: that much armor is heavy, noisy and warm (since you'd also need layers beneath the chain mail), would an adventurer even wear that much armor on a day to day basis?... So now I am trying to come with a way to balance that out... (Actually after writing it down tho, Kyoya specifically would absolutely see wearing heavy armor as a great training exercise...)

Also bc Kyoya gets special treatment as my favorite character, and I think he could use more "great-destiny-I-didn't-pick-and-thus-don't-want" issues: Mayhap his mother is the heiress to one faction, but she was driven away by an usurper, who is now out to kill her and her descendents? (No scars from *accidently* falling windows in this AU)... (Also maybe the usurper is paying Chris to take care of her descendents?)

Aaaahhh anyways thanks for reading all of my ramblings <3

henning i can always count on you tysm for sharing your ramblings w me <33

fantasy au my beloved!! the idea of the legendary bladers roaming around the lands and trying to rally an army while constantly bickering with each other is so funny. i have to agree that ryuga probably wouldn't travel with them but! imagine the kenta & ryuga interactions in this scenario :(( kenta tries to learn magic from ryuga who is so so good at it but unwilling (and without the patience lbh) to teach. kenta just stares at him really hard and tries to learn by observing ryuga do impossible feats of magic. ryuga acts annoyed but he also loves the attention lol

plsss kyoya in fantasy armor is simply amazing and badass. id love to see it. i know its impractical but i do imagine him in a chainmail crop top or something similarly unnecessary but stylish. anything for the glam. could also imagine some kind of corset top-like leather armor? i think leather armor would be the go-to for adventurers anyway.

kyoya is the perfect protagonist for a "refusal of the call" trope lmao. it would be a "fuck this, im gonna do my own thing" situation with him. every. time. "i don't care that you're a god or fate or whatever and you can't tell me what to do."

d-did you just make kyoya/chris possible in this au?? FJFDHSSJS maybe it's just my permanent brainrot for this ship but! chris keeps failing to assassinate kyoya but he's come close a couple of times and also kyoya's scars being a result of one of chris' assassination attempts and also they know each other by now after all this time and they probably keep bickering while trying to kill each other which is so unprofessional but it's almost like they're friends and do they really actually truly want to harm each other at all at this point?

... im blaming you for this tangent lol thank you henning i truly appreciate this <3 love you

[shingekinohyrulewrites]

Beyond the Kingdom

Being a Princess in a peaceful kingdom has led to a quiet life.

Until you are kidnapped by a man from a magical kingdom that you had no idea existed.

Read on AO3 here

Once upon a time, in an expansive land filled with green, rolling hills and endless blue, cloudless skies, there was a kingdom that had known peace for endless centuries. The kingdom had flourished over the years, thriving on trade with adjacent realms to the North and never embroiled in any conflict. The people were content, happy to wake up every morning in its lands and happy to serve under their rulers.

The King was known for his infinite wisdom, ready to spring a solution onto any problem that may arise. He had friendly eyes on an aged face, his long, dark hair slowly fading away and losing its vibrant color. He ruled with a gentleness that was quick to change into anger, as his kingdom always came first.

The Queen, renowned for her beauty, was also known for her heart of gold. She had come from a long line of wealthy merchants who had long served the Royal Family, and she quickly caught the heart of the King. She was a ruler of the people, often going into town to visit citizens and inquire about their wellbeing and needs. The Queen and King shared an immense, deep love for each other that extended to their only child.

You were their only child.

As Princess, you had heard the way your people spoke of you. According to them, you were the perfect combination of your parents: wise like your Father, and beautiful like your Mother. You knew that, as Princess, you were going to inherit an unbearable amount of responsibility, having to quickly take over when your Father decided it was time for you to inherit the crown. Since you had turned five, your entire life had been spent preparing you to take over the throne, a concept that had been difficult to grasp as a child and a concept that was still difficult to accept. With your twentieth birthday approaching, you knew you were closer to ruling the throne and becoming the sole ruler of your kingdom.

But, as Princess, you had also heard whispers of other things.

While growing up, you had only ever heard about the kingdoms to the North, an alliance of smaller countries that had sworn fealty to your parents. You had visited the North various times to continue the diplomacy, getting to know the other rulers and your potential suitors. The castle, however, was to the South of your Kingdom, which meant that you had to travel through town to leave the border and enter the Northern kingdoms.

However, the South was never discussed.

A thick, heavy forest surrounded the castle due South, seemingly always covered in darkness. There was no fence, no border, nothing to separate the castle from the forest, minus the soldiers who constantly patrolled it. In your free time, you loved to explore the land around your castle, reading in quiet areas and painting the landscape around you, yet you were not permitted to approach the forest. Anytime you were stopped by a soldier, you always asked why you weren’t allowed to enter. Instead of garnering a response, the soldier would pale, shaking their head and simply replying it was your Father’s orders.

After constantly being told the same thing, you had marched to your Father and demanded an answer. He had just finished a Council meeting, sitting at the head of the table shuffling some papers together. Upon hearing your question he had paused in his movements, eyes slowly lifting to meet yours. You had stiffened, taking note of the way his eyes had hardened as they took you in.

“Royal Highness, have a seat.”

Whenever your proper title was used, you knew you were in trouble. Sinking into a seat close to you, you waited for your Father to speak. Sighing, he put down the papers and interlaced his fingers, placing them on the table.

“Tell me, why do we enforce rules, dear?”

“Rules are enforced in order to maintain control, to ensure that our people are safe and avoid danger,” you responded, remembering all the lessons you had received about law making.

“Correct. Without rules, people would always be out and about, making reckless choices and putting themselves at risk.”

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“The same applies for you. We ask the soldiers to protect the forest border to keep you safe. There should be no questions asked.”

“But, Father, what lies beyond that forest? Why must we avoid it?”

“That is enough!”

His hand slammed down on the table, eyes wild with anger as he glared at you. Flinching, you gave a stiff nod, bowing your head in apology until he addressed you again.

“There will be no further questions about the forest. You are to avoid it and that is final. Do not question me again.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you whispered.

Satisfied, he nodded, gathering the papers again and standing from his seat. You waited until he shuffled past you, leaving the meeting room into the hall. Fear and anger coursed through you, and you forced yourself to stand and return to your living quarters.

One day, you would get your answer.

[hermitsmirror]

🖊️ P I C K 🧹 A 🖤 C A R D 🐈‍⬛

Close your eyes. Breathe deep. Imagine a gentle stream rolling gently down from tree-covered hills. Follow that stream back to its source, through dappled glades just returning to life after a long winter. Feel the brisk air and see the faint fog of your breath as you exhale on the climb up to a small wintry cave from which the stream emerges. Put your hands into the cool fresh water made of melting snow. Then pick a card from the Ink Witch Tarot.

Will you pick left, center, or right?

If you need more time to find your center and that moment of cool refreshment, take it. Look into the dark and quiet space of the cavern. Allow yourself to move to its mouth, where the gentle burbling of the spring echoes and cool air whispers lovingly. Let your eyes adjust to the darkness of the cave until you can see its crystalline interior. Infinite possibilities are reflected in those brilliant facets. When your eye settles on one, let the refreshing coolness of the cave’s interior fill you with clarity.

How does that feel? I hope it was invigorating and lovely.

If you haven’t yet, pick a card (if you want) and read its message in the relevant reveal image or below.

Leave a comment to let me know how it resonates and share the post with those who might benefit from an intuitive dance with the Fates.

And remember that if you want more personalized guidance, all you have to do is visit HermitsMirror.com/readings and choose your option. I’d love to welcome you to the sacred container of reading space.

LEFT: 8 of Swords

When you feel boxed in, keep in mind that it may be an illusion.

Have you looked at your situation from all angles? It’s possible that there is a way out of your sticky situation, and it has just escaped your notice. You’ve been focused on doing things a certain way, and your solution seemed impossible. But there’s not just one way.

CENTER: Queen of Wands

It’s time to create some magic in your life and get creative.

If you want to talk about creative and resourceful, look to Cinderella’s fairy godmother. A pumpkin as a carriage? Talk about upcycling. What magic can you work with what you already have at your disposal. You are asked to awaken your unique problem-solving skills. Dream what no one else can.

RIGHT: Queen of Swords

The warrior queen leads by example through her values.

This Queen’s spine is steel conviction, unyielding like the Sword of Justice. She asks you to step into her armor and let honor support all that you do. There is danger in unflinching beliefs about what is right, but there is clarity. And right now, you need that clarity. Pick up the Sword.

[thecraftyfoxthewriterscorner]

Time in Storytelling

A couple of thoughts on time in storytelling and how to track it while writing (or editing) your story.🕰️

Hey Story Crafters,

It’s the start of long, sunny days.🌞 Hope you’re enjoying the long weekend and getting the chance to spend time outdoors as the summer season starts settling in!

For this post, I want to share a couple thoughts about time and how to track it in your storytelling.

Time is pretty malleable in storytelling. You can stay in the narrative present, go backward or forward in time, lengthen a single scene into several pages, or undergo a time skip in a single paragraph break. When you think about it, messing with time in a story is a bit like magic for an author—with a few keystrokes, you can control how little or how much time has passed.

The problem with this much power (as tends to be the case with most power) is that it can be easy to lose track of how little or how much time has passed. This is especially true if you need to frequently step away from your writing for any reason (e.g., school, work, life, etc.) and you’re not quite sure where you left off in the story when you come back to it, if you’re adding more scenes to previous chapters, or if you’re editing your story.

One solution to this is to keep a timeline that spans your entire novel. Starting from Chapter 1 (or the Prologue, if you have one), make a note of how many story days pass in each chapter. This will give you a better picture of how much time passes in the story overall, and help you determine whether too little, too much, or just enough time has passed in relation to the plot. Time tends to play an important role in plotting since it usually involves a deadline the main character(s) must meet to achieve the primary goal of the story—doing so gives the story a sense of immediacy and urgency.

Time is one of the elements I keep track of in a story during a developmental edit. It’s part of the tracking sheet I include in my developmental editing package, and it’s a deliverable many of the authors I’ve worked with found really helpful for polishing their stories. If you need another set of eyes to help you track time in your novel, I might be the editor for you!

I mostly edit fantasy, dark fantasy, science fiction, and horror, but I’m open to working in most genres if an author and I fit well together (like cozy mysteries!). I still have some openings for the summer months, so please check out my services and send me an email if you’re interested in working with me!

Visit The Crafty Fox Editing Services

Send me an email!

Until next time!

Best,

Leah

Substack Post: https://thecraftyfoxwriterscorner.substack.com/p/time-in-storytelling

Connect with me on social media!

Interested in learning more about me, and the kind of energy I’ll bring to a writer-editor relationship? Subscribe to this newsletter or check out the archives!

[shameless-self-inserts]

The bitter wind bit through Bucky's jacket as he stood at the edge of the deserted alley, the darkness concealing his conflicted expression. The decision to leave had been agonizing, driven by an innate desire to protect Sarah from the chaos that seemed to follow him. The echoes of their last conversation lingered in his mind, a painful reminder of the emotional wreckage he was leaving behind.

Weeks passed, marked by the weight of solitude and the hollow ache of separation. Bucky found himself in a distant city, seeking solace in anonymity, convinced that distance would shield Sarah from the dangers that shadowed him.

Meanwhile, Sarah's determination to find him intensified with each passing day. Her search led her through a labyrinth of cities and backstreets, following the faint trail left by a man determined to elude connection. The exhaustion etched on her face deepened, but her resolve remained unbroken.

Finally, the pursuit reached its culmination in a quiet corner of a rundown neighborhood. Sarah's eyes narrowed as she spotted Bucky, his silhouette a stark contrast to the dimly lit surroundings. With a mix of frustration and relief, she approached him, the weariness of her journey evident in every step.

"You know, leaving doesn't magically erase all the problems," she quipped, a bitter edge to her sarcasm. "I've been playing detective trying to find you, and surprise, surprise, it wasn't the grand solution you thought it'd be."

Bucky's gaze met hers, a complex interplay of guilt and longing. "I told you to let me go," he said, his voice a low rasp.

"Yeah, well, we can both see that didn't work," she shot back, a weariness creeping into her tone. "Leaving doesn't protect anyone. It just leaves us both hurting in different ways." The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken emotions, the distance between them a palpable ache.

Bucky's gaze faltered, a mixture of regret and vulnerability crossing his features. The gravity of the situation hung in the air as he wrestled with the internal conflict that had led him to this point. Sarah, however, was not one to back down, her exhaustion fueling a raw honesty.

"You think pushing me away is protecting me?" she continued, frustration punctuating her words. "Newsflash, Barnes, we're beyond that. We're in this together, whether you like it or not."

Bucky's jaw tightened, the inner turmoil etched on his face. "You deserve better than the chaos I bring," he murmured, a trace of desperation in his voice.

Sarah shook her head, a bitter chuckle escaping her lips. "You don't get to decide what I deserve. I'm not some damsel in distress waiting for you to swoop in. We face things together, or we don't face them at all."

The air crackled with tension, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging heavy. Bucky's resolve wavered as he met Sarah's unwavering gaze. The stark reality of their entwined fates laid bare in the dimly lit alley.

She took a step closer, bridging the emotional gap between them. "Running away won't change anything. If you're hurting, let me in. We deal with it together."

For a moment, the world around them seemed to still, the quiet plea echoing in the space between their hearts.

Bucky's gaze softened, vulnerability breaking through the armor he had tried to maintain. The weariness in Sarah's eyes mirrored his own, creating a shared moment of understanding in the chilly silence. In that vulnerable space, the realization dawned that perhaps facing their demons together was the only way forward."I never wanted to drag you into this mess," Bucky admitted, a hint of resignation in his voice.

Sarah's expression softened, a small, sad smile playing on her lips.

"Newsflash, Barnes, you're not dragging me into anything. I'm choosing to stand by your side. The good, the bad, and the ugly."

[liberalexhexdecimal]

The Truth lies before the Eye!

For those of you, interested in Black Magic or Magick, or the Occult Practices (meaning not doing sensless Things on Cemetaries and insulting religious Feelings of Persons), or those who heard of activating their pineal gland to open the third Eye, or even those who work in the summoning of Deamons by invocation or evocation, I have written these Informations without the purpose of being true, or make you a magician in 21 Days, rather it is a collection of theoretics without practical usage, but I hope to share something I call "Aha-Effect" with the community who is kindly invited to let us participate on their studies and points of view.

First of All: I do not believe in Magical Technics like Raising the Dead, getting Rich by practicing Magic or even join socalled Circles or Societies-because if Dead could be Reversed why doing it instead of avoid dying? Getting Power by Paying Money works not for the one paying only for the one getting paid (see like Blackjack -if you play luck, you will have bad luck, if you play bad luck or simply not you will have good luck-at least better than you might think) There is no Practical Medidation or Training Units that are able to open your "third eye", because there is no such third eye which must be activated. It is simply a Synonymous Term for your Brain - Sitting between the Ears and the Eyes in the Center of the Head. So Open that Eye means "Use your Brain" and do everything in concious ways. The Pineal Gland is this Part often referred to as the third Eye,but it is simply a Part of your Brain, that divides left and right part, mainly the spinal cord from or to the evolutionary newer parts (lastly the Frontal Cortex) - so i call it the old Chicken or Snake Plisssken because the only Function is: Deactivate the Parts of your Brain, that are absolutely useless (and most of them are - lol ) at least in special Situations. So the Term EYE is semicorrect because it operates by light and darkness, but gets these information from the ordinary sensomotorik Organs your boring eyes (the other 2 of course).

Now the interesting Part. at least for Magicians,Tricksters,Secret Service, TV Ad Designer of useless Products and other things you should be aware of-Samples:

Eyes tell it is dark at least to see something. Pineal Gland -ok thanks, then it is night, produce melatonin and make you tired. Is that good as your Basic Brain Part? No- it is absolutely thrustworthy but doesnt trust his ownself. Good? Yes - because it is day and somone took your two nonmagical Eyeballs and then says to you: Be a Jedi or Zen Monk. not a dull dumb Eyeuser believing everything he sees. Ok - and because of this circumstance we have 2 Eyes connected crosswise to a corresponding other Brainpart(left to right and vice versa) and in the center controlled by the big unbeliever Pineal Gland(The Router for Techies) It uses Neurotransmitter Hormones to communicate by the Synaptic Parts of Braincells and orchestrating everything from fear and pain the most important emotions to motivate you to run or fight instead of google first then talk about it. No Pain is a Top motivator to make you stop thinking of Art and Culture, Cooking Gourmet Food or Luxury Needings. We have a Problem - Playground is closed - Solution is run-kill-eat even raw-yes you made a backwardturn to primitive Days, but yeah - its all what counts at least now - why make your Mindfucked with Nietzsche Nihilism - can be fun/deadly depressive funeral) but the worm is the Commander and says to Captain Wiseart of Ästhetics /(Be gone and let the Proven DNA solve the Situation. then we call you back to biz)

[flawlessbeautyandpiercingstu]

Explore the Top 3 Power of Eyelash Lifting

We all know in the field of beauty enhancement, eyelash lifting has become a magical transformation for those seeking an appealing big-eyed or long-lashed look. This innovative procedure is becoming increasingly popular and provides a problem-free alternative to traditional eyelash extensions and mascara. 

So, according to the experts offering an eyelash lift in Nightcliff and other places, in just a few minutes, the lash lift will take your natural eyelashes to new heights and give you a captivating look that lasts for weeks.

Non-Invasive Treatment

Eyelash lifting is a non-invasive treatment that improves natural eyelash curvature and volume. This procedure uses a special silicone protector to lift and curl your eyelashes and a gentle conditioning solution that locks in the curl. Result? Beautifully defined eyelashes frame your eyes and make them look bigger and more beautiful. 

Low-Maintenance

According to the experts offering an eyelash lift in Darwin and other locations, its low maintenance is one of the most appealing benefits of eyelash lifting. Unlike extensions, they do not require daily maintenance and will not damage your natural eyelashes. You can enjoy the mesmerising effect without worrying about clumps, stains or irritation. It is also a versatile treatment suitable for all eyelash lengths and types.

Customisation

Professionals offering an eyelash lift in Nightcliff and other regions, the lash lift can be customised to your desired curl level and also includes a tint feature that adds depth and darkness to your lashes, eliminating the need for mascara. This enchanting beauty secret is perfect for those seeking natural yet effective enhancement. 

Experience the power of eyelash lifting and discover a world of unforgettable beauty. Say goodbye to the hassle of mascara and get gorgeous lashes effortlessly with this innovative treatment. 

We hope you have enjoyed reading the post! Therefore, share it with your loved ones and stay tuned with us for more updates like this piece.

[realtantrik]

Stop Your Life Problems By Black Magic Vashikaran

Stop Your Life Problems By Black Magic Vashikaran