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windvexer · 23 days ago

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Simple Ward Against Spirits (and Other Varieties)

Forbidden peanut butter cookies

I've been very much enjoying working with a new style of ward. It's pertinent materia magica blended into air-dry clay, worked into small disks stamped with protective symbols, and hung up near doors and windows (or carried).

Sometimes I paint them; this time I just filled in the symbols with India ink.

The recipe is quite nice as you can make several little wards for the effort of one spell. And they work up pretty quickly.

The recipe:

3 substances aligning with intent (sets given below)

A small handful of air-dry clay

Paint or ink to decorate, as desired

Thread or cord to hang up, if desired

Clear-dry glue (modge-podge used in picture) to seal clay, especially helpful to block strong-smelling herbs

Steps:

Work over each substance individually to ensure they are carriers of power. Ensure each substance is empowered and aligned with its duties before moving on.

Blend all three substances into some air-dry clay (the clay itself is not worked with as a correspondence, but could be, if you're into it).

Divide the air-dry clay into individual balls and flatten them out into disks. You may have to add plenty of extra water to counteract the dehydrating effect of salt or herbs.

Poke a hole at the top of each disk (I used the back end of a matchstick) if you want to hang them up.

On one side of the disk, carve or paint any protective symbol pertinent to your faith. Pictured, an equilateral cross.

On the other side of the disk, carve or paint a symbol that expresses the specific sort of protection you're working (such as a very simplified sigil, or perhaps elemental or planetary signs you're calling on, or a minimalist animal, and so forth).

Once the clay is dry, coat with a clear layer of glue or modge-podge. This helps protect against moisture and minor chips but primarily is to stop the charm from having a strong odor if you use, say, garlic and dill.

Combinations of Materia:

Use perhaps an eighth of a teaspoon of each to start with; I find the clay can hold a lot of foreign materials, but expect it to significantly change texture and dry out. Of course, use any materials you prefer.

Use only dried herbs. Fresh will not do.

Against Evil

Dill (to perceive, forewarn, and shelter against against evil)

Garlic (to protect against evil)

Salt (to neutralize evil)

Against Unwanted Spirits

Garlic (to protect against the uninvited)

Red pepper (to set boundaries against the uninvited)

Basil (to guard against transgressors)

Against Unwanted Energies

Rosemary (to shield and shelter)

Clove (to create a barrier that limits energies)

Salt (to neutralize unwanted energies)

Notes:

The spell can "end" at any number of moments; you can seal it once you mark symbols, or only after it's dried and painted, or only after you've done knot magic to weave a special hanger, etc.

IME, a very powerful set of wards can be made by linking 4 such disks, each one to a different element, and hanging them in the cardinal directions as your path specifies; thus assigning an elemental guardian working in tandem with his brothers to guard those roads of egress. Try making a base formula shared between all four disks, and then adding a unique ingredient to each one of them that corresponds with the element.

Air-dry clay is fragile. These wards are not especially suited to be carried around, but can be carried in a pinch. If you like, the idea of a ward breaking when it's done it's job is very applicable to brittle clay disks.

You can work greater magic into them; knot magic for the hanger, earth magic for the clay, layering on more power if you paint, and so forth.

#witchblr #spellcrafting #protection spell #ward #beginner witch

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corkinavoid · 1 month ago

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Hogwarts??? So you hate trans people then, if your supporting jk

First of all, it's 'you're', not 'your'. If you want to accuse someone of something, then at least do it in a grammatically correct way.

Second, that's a lot of conclusions for no apparent reason.

Third, don't like - don't look, the 'block' button exists for a reason, and I'm not here to provide a comfortable experience for you. You're the one responsible for that part.

With that out of the way, let me rant about how much I fucking despise J.K. Rowling.

Let me get this straight, though, her stance on trans rights is not the first or the main reason for my dislike. In all honesty, I don't have enough care in myself to touch internet drama with a ten foot pole, so all I know about it is that apparently Rowling hates trans people, which, yeah, fuck her.

By the way, what do you even consider 'supporting an author'? Buying their books or merch? Liking their Twitter posts? Defending them on social media? Because I've done literally none of that. I haven't even watched the movies, and I've never read the last book, because at the time it wasn't published (or written yet), and by the time it was, I was already into Eragon series and didn't care about Harry Potter.

Now, to the important part.

I fucking hate J.K. Rowling because of her absolute lack of comprehensive worldbuilding. She sucks at creating a logical system of magic, at her own world's history, economics, and politics. Nothing in her books makes sense.

Why do the wizards need wands? Why do they write with quills on parchment when there's paper and notebooks and goddamn ink pens and color pencils? Why don't they teach math in Hogwarts? Why don't the teachers have, like, some introductory lessons or at least books for muggleborn or muggle-raised students? What the fuck was that 'power of mother's love' bullshit? Where did that story about Peverell Brothers and Death come from, and why didn't anyone think to mention it when Harry first got the Invisibility Cloak? Why in the world is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets in the girl's bathrooms of all places? Why is there a subject for Ancient Runes but no one fucking uses runes? Why didn't Harry sign up for Muggle Studies, it would have been an easy grade? Why was Hermione the only one to have a time-turner in the whole school, she was fucking thirteen, what was McGonagall thinking? Where are any kind of PE lessons? Why the everloving fuck was Triwizard Tournament held at a school, with teenagers participating? What's more, why couldn't they choose the champions beforehand so the visiting schools didn't have to transport their whole student bodies over for a year? Why were they fighting dragons when it's common knowledge that no sane adult person would dare to do that alone by themselves? What was that arch in the Ministry where Sirius died? What the fuck was even going on for the most part of the series?

None of it makes an ounce of sense. Every fucking event in the books is a product of poor imagination and lack of logic. Rowling is fucking dumb as a brick. I've heard five-year-olds come up with stories that had more reason than the whole Harry Potter series.

Have you seen the 'map of wizarding schools' she came up with? That thing makes me feel the rage of a thousand men. One single school for the whole damn Africa? Bitch, there are over fifty countries there, each with their own language, how do you expect them to communicate? Not to mention India and China having one school for both of them, do you have any idea of the population of both of those countries? That school must be, like, a size of a city, not to mention culture differences and language barriers again.

Also, what was that fucking thing about kids flying on whole ass trees instead of brooms in Koldovstvorets, that one offends me personally. Not to mention the actual name of that school, because it translates to 'magic palace', are you kidding me?

I can keep ranting about this for hours, and never run out, but this is getting rather long, so I'm going to wrap this part up. Just know that the whole of Rowling's worldbuilding is a ton of bullshit that has no right to be as popular as it got.

Yet, I do like the general idea that she had. The magic world that is hidden inside the real one, the whole charms and spells aesthetic, a castle full of secret passages, and all that old classic English vibe to it. It could have been good. It could have been marvelous, if Rowling had, like, a few more braincells. Alas, she didn't, and here we are.

A few years ago, I've found a fic on ao3, 'survival is a talent' by ShanaStoryteller. It's a Series Retold, and it's incomplete. If you haven't read it, I really advise you to, it's perfect in a way the original will never be. Ever since I've read it, I decided that that fic is my canon version of Harry Potter.

On a different note, I think that at this point, HP fandom and J.K. Rowling exist in two different dimensions. That woman had created a world, yes, but it doesn't belong to her anymore, it belongs to everyone who enjoys it. She clearly doesn't, she only enjoys the profit she is making from it.

If you've made it this far through my Harry Potter related rant, thank you, and have a beautiful day <3

#cork asks #hp #harry potter #fuck jkr #also fyi im fucking non-binary and i have a few trans friends

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notwhelmedyet · 11 months ago

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A Fire Shall Be Woken, by Ealcynn. A pair of bindings using the K118 structure, one as a gift for the author and one to keep.

Chapter page illustrations are by Alphonse Mucha, all other illustrations are hand-drawn.

I hope to make a long post later explaining the process in more depth & another to document all my mistakes, but here's the basics.

New techniques learned: Paper marbling, edge marbling, uncial calligraphy, making paste papers, drawing on bookcloth, making paste-filled cloth, fold-out maps

I began work on this project in early September and am completing the finishing touches this week.

Structures:

Binding: K118 tightback

Endpapers: Simple cloth-joined endpapers

Map fold: Turkish map fold

Materials:

Sewing supports: linen tapes

Thread: 30/3 linen thread

Spine lining: Medium weight kozo tissue bonded to linen fabric

Interior paper: Hammermill Ivory, 11x17, hand-cut to 8.5x11

Endpapers: Blick sulphite paper hand-marbled, with masked stenciled silhouettes created with freezer paper

Adhesives: Jade PVA, wheat starch paste, wheat flour paste

Covers: Davey board, laminated full thickness to half thickness

Cover fabric: Studio E shot cottons in Jungle and Emerald; filled with wheat starch paste

Cover decorations: Speedball india ink and Dr. Ph. Martin's calligraphy ink in Copperplate Gold

Inks for maps and illustrations: Speedball black india ink and a selection of watercolors thickened with gum arabic

Dip pens used for calligraphy: Combination of Brause calligraphy nibs and Leonardt tape nibs

Dip pens used for illustration: Nikko G pointed pen nib

Typesetting:

Typesetting program: Scribus 1.5.5

Body font: Coelacanth in 10 pt caption weight

Headings, titles, chapter titles, drop caps: Hand lettered uncial calligraphy, scanned

Illustrations and References:

Frames on colophon, copyright, author's notes and title page: Hand drawn, with inspiration taken from the vellucent bindings of Cedric Chivers

Frames that illustrate each chapter start: Alphonse Mucha from Cloches de Noël et de Pâques

Cover illustrations: Referenced from a photograph of an European beech tree found on iNaturalist.org

Maps of Imladris: Hand drafted with inspiration from the maps of Barbara Strachey, and Daniel Reeve

Map of Eriador: Traced from a map by Karen Wynn Fonstad, with edits made to coordinate with the geography of the fic

Frames on maps: Referenced from a drawing by Alphonse Mucha that @zhalfirin found for me

Special Thank Yous:

To the tightback council of problem-solvers in the Renegade server: Zhalfirin, Eka, @spockandawe who helped figure out many issues with the structure and technique

To the marbling experts in the Renegade server: Marissa, Aether, AGlance, Jenny, Catz, Badgertide, Rhi, and everyone else who helped me figure out beginnner marbling

To Spock for finding the K118 structure and introducing it to the server!

And to Bruce Levy, who discovered the method and shared his discoveries freely with the bookbinding and conservation world.

#bookbinding #Fanbinding #mine #bookbinding adventures #thank you to everyone i consider this a group effort #it has been 10000 years and I have loved every step #except for sanding. nasty nasty sanding. ew.#fic recs

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blackboard-monitor · 4 months ago

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how i've finished inktober every year for eight years and counting

Every time I mention around other artists that I finish inktober every year (meaning I draw and ink 31 drawings, one every day in October), I get questions like "how???", so I figured I'd make a post about it on the off chance it's helpful to someone. Please note that all my advice is based on my personal experience and you're a different person so what works for me may not work for you, and you can do whatever you want forever.

What it boils down to for me is two basic rules: 1) keep it simple and 2) manage your expectations.

Tools

Paper/sketchbook

I started my first inktober in my journal at the time, and because I'm neurotic like that, I've had to do every subsequent inktober in whatever journal I was using at that point.

The benefit of this is that each journal has had a page size of A5 or smaller, which can be tricky when trying to get in a lot of detail, but on the other hand forces you to limit the size of your drawings to a pretty managable size.

Paper type can also be important! Last year in 2023, my journal was a Moleskine sketchbook (image 1), which was actually designed to handle some degree of wet media, which was a game-changer for me as an ink wash enjoyer. Don't get me wrong, I've been using ink washes in most of my previous journals as well, but inking is a lot nicer when your paper isn't constantly buckling (image 2) or pilling and the ink isn't bleeding all over the place, inclunding through the page (image 3). Pages that stay flat instead of buckling are also a lot easier to scan or photograph, if like me you want to post your art online.

In short, my inktober paper recommendation is to use a sketchbook no larger than A5, and go for one with nice, thick paper if you intend to use wet media.

Sketching

I sketch everything with a single 6H pencil that I got from my brother in 2019. Because the lead is so hard, it allows me to scribble to my heart's content without the sketch getting too dark or hard to erase. Sometimes I'll refine the sketch with a HB mechanical pencil, which shows up really nicely on top of the 6H lines, but I may skip that step if I'm feeling lazy or the first sketch is clean enough.

Inking

I've used a variety of art supplies in my inktober drawings. For the most part I've always stuck to greyscale, with the exception of a couple of red or gold accents some years.

My main inktober tools are a set of Micron fineliners in various sizes, and liquid India ink, which I use with a dip pen and with brushes. I usually mix up a mid-tone ink wash in a small bottle, and use that throughout the month.

Fineliners pros: portable, require minimal setup, can use on the sofa or in bed or wherever Fineliners cons: creating texture and filling large areas is a lot more time-consuming. In 2021 I did inktober exclusively in fineliner because I was tired and couldn't be bothered to deal with liquid ink, but I ended up spending more time than maybe ever on the drawings because it took so long to add texture with pens.

Ink pros: you can achieve small details with a dip pen as well as quick texture and fill in large areas with a brush and ink washes Ink cons: can be messy (protip from 2022 Liekki, don't spill ink water all over your laptop), usually you have to sit at a table of some kind, you need to wash your brushes and dip pens, if your paper isn't designed for wet media, it'll buckle or bleed

Pick your inking tools and techniques based on how much time you have!

Prompts/ideas/subject matter

I've always stuck to the "official" prompt list, because it brings me joy to scroll through the tag of the day on instagram and see how others interpreted the same prompt. Or, rather, it used to bring me joy to do this, until instagram's enshittification stole our ability to look at tags. Maybe I'll have some luck with that on Cara going forward; here's hoping.

As for ideas, sometimes they come easy, sometimes it's like pulling teeth and I have to enlist all my friends to brainstorm with me (sorry, y'all). When in doubt, draw the first thing that comes to mind when you read the prompt; don't overthink it (like I often do). I like to try to come up with a less obvious interpretation of a prompt, but this is also where I often get stuck and have to harass my loved ones for ideas. Sometimes it helps to relate the prompt to a tv show/book/etc. you're into; I've done quite a bit of inktober fanart, as well as art of various DnD cahracters from games I've played/DM'd. If all else fails, just look at what everyone else is drawing that day.

Time management

Be realistic about how much time you have in a day to work on inktober, and then set your expectations accordingly. If you only have an hour, stick to a size and level of detail that you can realistically finish in an hour. I've done some very quick scribbles in my years of inktober when I've been busy that day.

My personal philosophy is that I try not to plan too much ahead; I don't do any sketching until day of, and ideally I don't try to come up with ideas for a prompt or at least decide on an idea until the day before at the earliest. Containing each drawing in one day helps me have realistic expectations of what's doable. This does mean drawing late into the night sometimes after procrastinating or struggling to find an idea all day, but it's what works for me.

If your goal is to complete inktober, it's better to do a small shitty drawing in ten minutes than to fall behing by starting something way too ambitious that you'll never be able to finish in a day.

Secret third rule!

Accept the fact that you aren't going to be happy with every drawing.

Inktober was created as an exercise to practice inking. Think of your drawings as sketches, not finished masterpieces. Some of them will be bad, at least in your own eyes. Sometimes you'll put a lot of effort into something that just doesn't work out. For example:

To quote Joe Hills, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results is the definition of practice. So you fucked up today's drawing. Tomorrow is a new day – that's the beauty of inktober. "Ever tried, ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better." (Samuel Beckett) Progress isn't linear, either; some years are consistently mediocre, other years it's all over the place with a couple bangers and a couple really shitty ones.

Every inktober I've made drawings I love,

drawings I'm indifferent to,

and drawings that straight up suck.

And I'm at peace with that.

Thanks for reading what turned into a pretty long post, and I hope some of it was helpful. Happy inktobering!

#if you have any questions feel free to ask #arting #inktober #mine #art

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valkyyriia · 7 months ago

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A Study in Green

Words: 2915

CW: Fingering, Artistic Liberties with History | NSFW

Pairing: Arthur Conan Doyle / Female-Bodied Reader

Prompt: Abandoned Mansion (caution!)

Notes: This is I think the third time I've ever written smut, so please bear with me. I also thought the title was rather cliche, but I liked it, so... I also think I got a little carried away. Whoops. And Mo, if you read this - I remembered that comment I left you on your fic about the Paris Green and MC freaking out and it immediately came to mind when I rolled this prompt with my dice.

Crossposted on Ao3 here.

Banners/dividers by @natimiles.

For @xxsycamore's event, Sexy Ikemen Summer!

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked, eyeing the abandoned building with suspicion. It appeared to have been an older, late-eighteenth century mansion. Ivy crept up the crumbling mortar like grasping tendrils, giving it a foreboding look.

“It’ll be fine, luv,” Arthur said, a cheeky grin on his face. “A little urban exploration never hurt anyone.”

“I would like to see the evidence to back up that stateme-” You were cut off by Arthur tugging you close and kissing you sweetly.

“Come now. I swore to protect you, didn’t I?” He tapped your nose with a gloved finger. “That includes the dangers of uninhabited, derelict places and all the things that go bump in the dark. You have absolutely nothing to fear as long as I am here with you, okay?”

You exhaled shakily and offered a weak smile. “Okay.”

“Besides,” Arthur added. “You do make a rather adorable damsel in distress.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, and he laughed, taking your hand and leading you inside.

One thing you had never quite gotten used to in this era was the sticky heat and lack of air conditioning. Even though the climate wasn’t too different from what you were used to, the fashion of the day was much more stifling. The summer sun was currently high in the air, beating oppressive rays down on the building. Fortunately, the mansion was still in reasonably good repair; the roof was intact everywhere except the far left wing, where the walls had collapsed in on themselves. It offered some protection from the heat, paltry though it was.

Arthur had, true to his word, faithfully stuck by your side. The vampire hardly even let go of your hand, giving you something to anchor yourself to. You were grateful for his considerate nature.

The sunlight shining through the cracked stained glass windows cast glittering constellations on the dusty wood of the parlor floor. Furniture draped in age-stained cream cloth was positioned in key places around the room. If it weren’t for the thick layer of dust and the obvious smell of decaying wood, you would almost think the owners were just out on vacation.

Arthur had done some amount of research on the building before bringing you here, aided by le Comte and his connections. As it turns out, the owners of this mansion had fled to America twenty or so odd years ago due to some sort of legal trouble. The Crown had seized the mansion to repay the family’s debts and it had remained uninhabited since. According to Comte, the left wing collapse happened a few months after the Crown took over the property, and they hadn’t tried to renovate or rebuild the structure. Ultimately, other than the left side, the mansion should have been perfectly safe - within reason for an abandoned building - for a first-time urban explorer.

He grinned. “Look at this,” Arthur said, using your joined hands to point at the desk in the corner of the room. It was neatly organized, a couple of books stacked on the side. A half-written letter lay on the workspace. A quill pen sat in a long-since-dried inkwell, the bottom of it stained black with India ink. “They really were in a hurry,” Arthur commented, pulling his tortoiseshell glasses from his pocket and setting them on his nose. “Let’s see…”

He blew gently on the surface, scattering the dust. Your eyes watered and you cough into your elbow. “Sorry,” Arthur murmured, rubbing your back lightly as he looked at the letter.

“To my love,

“I hope the day comes when I can see you again. Father says we must leave in order to stay out of prison, and I dread leaving you behind. I had desperately dreamed of the day I would make you my wife, but I fear we must place those plans on hold for now. Wait for me, my love. I will return for you.

“Forever yours,”

And then nothing. There was no signature. You frowned. “The poor dears.. I hope he was able to stay in contact. Or at least let her know what happened.”

Arthur studied the paper intensely for a moment, before looking at the books next to it. “I can’t imagine she wouldn’t know what happened. These kinds of things are rather big gossip in the upper echelons of society.” The hand on your back moved to your waist and pulled you closer to him. “Her family likely refused any further contact with him or his family after they left. Even if he continued to write to her, she probably never saw any of those letters.”

“That’s so sad,” you said, leaning into him. “It sounds like he really loved her.”

“If he loved her half as much as I love you, he must have loved her a lot,” Arthur replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “If you would like, luv, we can maybe try to deliver this letter to its intended recipient. There’s probably some other correspondence between the two stashed somewhere here, if we look for it.”

You looked up at him in surprise. He had a kind smile on his lips, but his eyes were serious. If it were something you wished to do, he would make it happen somehow. “I would, but,” you started to say. “What if it opens up old wounds? What if she’s moved on and this just brings it back up?” You sighed and laid your head against Arthur’s shoulder once more. He ran his thumb up and down your waist in soothing motions. “I don’t want to make things worse.”

“Even if she has moved on, it could give her closure,” Arthur pointed out. “But you are right; it could cause more trouble for them. Maybe we should leave it here?”

You mulled it over for a moment. “If I were in her shoes.. And you had moved away for some reason against your will, I don’t think I could really move on. Even if I was forced to marry someone else. I love you too much to ever forget you.”

Arthur was silent for a moment. “Then we should do everything we can to make sure it’s delivered. Even if it is twenty-something years late,” he said, voice quiet and somewhat choked. You went to move away and look up at him, but Arthur’s hand kept your head against his neck. His free arm wrapped around you and he held you firmly to his body. You gave up fighting him, and just locked your arms around his neck. “Thank you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Arthur finally let go and stepped away from you, looking around the room once more. “Let’s see if we can find out who the lucky lady is, yeah? The game, my dear, is on!”

The two of you went looking around the parlor for any other correspondence between the pair. Coming up empty handed there, you moved to other rooms. Normally Arthur would have been able to make an educated deduction on which room likely belonged to the author, but with the state of disrepair the house was in it was much more difficult. Or at least, that’s what Arthur said - but you suspected he just wanted an excuse to lead you around the house by the hand for a little longer. Not that you’d complain about that.

The two of you looked inside a bedroom suite on the second floor. The door creaked open, revealing a lavish room, covered in linens matching those in the parlor. A thick layer of dust coated the room as it did everywhere else in the house. You carefully stepped over to another desk, this one facing the window that overlooked the long-overgrown lawn. Spread across it were several letters in varying states of completion. Some were well-worn, clearly having been read over multiple times. Those ones appeared to have a different author than the one found downstairs.

“Alyssa Bloodwell,” Arthur murmured. “That name doesn’t ring any bells for me, but Daddy Dearest knows just about everyone worth knowing among Europe’s elite. We can ask him when we get back. For now, though…” Arthur turned to you, a devilish smile on his lips.

“Arthur,” you warned him to no avail. He quickly stepped forward and grabbed you by the hips. Your arms snaked around his neck automatically.

He grinned. “What is it, oh darling love of mine?” He gave you an innocent peck on the lips.

“Oh, don’t even start, Arthur,” you protested, but made no motion to step out of his embrace. His lips moved to the side of your face and you reflexively tilted your head to give him access. “We can’t - not here.”

“Says who?” Arthur murmured seductively, nibbling at the shell of your ear. “It’s not like there’s anyone here to stop us.” He walked you backwards to a sturdy chest of draws against the far wall, and easily lifted you up onto it. “You’ve been looking positively delectable all day. I can’t help myself from wanting a taste.” He leaned in and kissed you more insistently, his fingers dancing around the ribbon at the collar of your blouse.

“You are incorrigible,” You responded weakly, already returning his kiss.

“But you like it, don’t you?” Arthur replied, grazing your earlobe with his fangs. “You dirty little thing.” He ghosted his lips down the side of your neck, pressing a kiss right over your pulse point, before mouthing the spot and sucking hard. You cried out at the sharp pain of it.

Arthur ran his thumb over the red blooming there. “Beautiful,” he said. “I would bite you, but then I’d have to carry you back to grab a carriage.” He ran his tongue down the column of your throat, his fingers gently setting the ribbon to the side and dragging the top of your blouse down. His other hand slid up your skirt, the thumb running back and forth over the flesh of your inner thigh. “And I really don’t want to have to explain that one to the constable,” Arthur whispered, his breath coming out in puffs against your collarbone.

The drag of his sharp fangs against the skin of your chest combined with Arthur’s fingers moving higher underneath your skirt caused your breath to hitch. His gloved hand pressed gently against your clothed sex, applying a small bit of pressure through your underwear. You let out a soft whine at the contact. He rubbed his fingers back and forth between your thighs while leaving love bites all over your exposed chest.

His lips kissed back up your throat, and he pulled away to look at you. Smirking, he pulled his hand from between your thighs and took the glove in between his teeth. Arthur slowly, teasingly, pulled it off of his hand, the now bare appendage returning to its former place between your legs.

“Arthur,” you whimpered as he slid the material of your panties aside. He dragged his fingers back and forth through the wetness gathering there, circling the sensitive nub at the apex of your thighs.

You threw your head back, a low keening sound escaping your lips as he continued to swirl his fingers between your legs. Arthur shot out his other hand to catch the back of your head.

“Look at me,” he murmured. You bit your lip but did as he asked, and he smiled. “Good girl.”

Arthur’s thumb brushed against your lips and then he leaned in for a deep kiss. “You’re so cute when you come undone under my fingers like this,” he purred. “You’re normally so put together.” You probably were a sight to behold right now - skirt hiked up to your hips, blouse untied and loosely draped under your cleavage, chest heaving - you were the very image of debauchery.

Arthur leaned back in for another kiss, his tongue moving against yours in time with his fingers as they pushed inside of you.

Your gaze drifted up, suddenly settling on the walls of the room. Your eyes widened and you broke the kiss. “Arthur,” you breathed, voice scratchy. “Is it just me or is that wallpaper green?”

Arthur groaned and he pulled away with a discontent sigh, his lips forming a frown. “It is, and quite a lovely shade of it. But I don’t see how the color of the wallpaper is more important than my hand.” His fingers deftly continued their work, and you bit back a groan. “Unless you are unsatisfied, and want something more?”

“Because,” you breathed, trying to ignore Arthur’s actions and failing miserably. “Green pigments from around this time period are made of arsenic. It’s poison.” Your thighs trembled as he pleasured you. You were so close-

-and then Arthur suddenly stopped and looked at you, bewildered. You whined at the loss of stimulation. “Really?” He looked away from you, his gaze flitting all around the room that was blanketed in peeling green wallpaper. Arthur’s cobalt gaze met yours again, a light panic to his eyes. “And they didn’t know this?”

“No! The paint was invented sometime in the early nineteenth century and fell out of use during the mid nineteenth century because people were getting sick,” you sighed, the ache in your belly slowly subsiding, leaving you feeling uncomfortable and wanting for more. “It was later used as a pesticide, until they realized that was dangerous, too.” You were somewhat regretting your choice to stop Arthur at this moment. Curse your brain for being safety-conscious even with an incredibly attractive man between your legs, who wanted nothing more than to bring you pleasure.

Arthur sighed, pressing a kiss to your lips. “We should probably continue this elsewhere, then,” he conceded, removing his hands from your thighs. You shuddered at the loss of contact and watched as he lifted his slick-covered hand to his mouth, sucking on the fingers. The lewd sight sent another flare of smoldering heat right to your belly. “When we get back home, you’re going to have to make up for leaving me hanging like this. I hope you’re ready for the consequences of your actions.”

Bonus:

After speaking with Comte about what you discovered while exploring (trespassing), you and Arthur found yourselves standing outside of a beautiful, well-kept mansion in the Parisian countryside. As you approached the gate, a butler, who was trimming roses nearby, placed his garden shears down and stepped over.

“Bonjour, Mademoiselle, Monsieur,” he greeted. “How can I help you?”

“Is there an Alyssa Bloodwell at this residence?” You asked.

The butler frowned. “Madame Bloodwell does live here, yes, but we were not advised of any visitors today. Was she expecting you?”

“Not exactly,” you replied. Arthur then pulled a time-worn letter out of his pocket and showed it to the butler, explaining, “I shan’t go into the specifics on how, but we came across this letter and believe its intended recipient is your mistress. We simply wish it to go where it belongs.”

The butler looked at the letter for a moment before nodding. “If you will, follow me,” he said and led you both into the mansion’s entryway, and from there to the parlor. “Please wait here, mademoiselle, monsieur. I will inform Madame Bloodwell of your visit and we shall proceed from there.”

After a few minutes of waiting, you looked up to see a woman in her late thirties descending the stairwell. “I am Madame Alyssa Bloodwell. I was informed you had correspondence intended for me?” she asked.

You curtsied and Arthur handed over the letter. She took it, eyeing it, and her hand dropped to her chest. “Where did you get this?” she said, breathless.

“We recently came into possession of it,” Arthur said, smoothly avoiding giving the details. “We did some detective work, and determined you were the recipient.”

Lady Bloodwell walked over to an armchair on uncertain legs and sunk down into it. “Louis,” she murmured. “I haven’t heard from him in twenty four years.” Her fingers caressed the fraying edges of the paper. “His family had been found to be embezzling money from one of the royal artisans and was disgraced. They fled Paris in the middle of the night and caught a ship to America. My parents forbade mention of him and the betrothal was called off. I ended up marrying a local lord, but.. I never did stop wondering what happened to him.”

You smiled sadly at her. “I’m sorry that we didn’t come bearing current news, but I’m glad we could at least bring you the letter. It’s obvious how much he loved you.”

“Thank you, cherie,” she said. “Please, is there anything I can do to repay you for doing me this kindness?”

You began to decline, but Arthur cut in. “If you don’t mind, could you answer a question for us as payment?“

She inclined her head.

“Did you ever move on?” Arthur asked, a serious look on his face.

Madame Bloodwell shook her head. “I love my husband,” she began. “But no. Louis was - is - special to me. I never stopped loving him, and I doubt I will stop until the last breath leaves my lungs.” She looked between you and Arthur, a content smile on her face. “I see such a resemblance between you two and myself and Louis. Monsieur, whatever you do, don’t ever lose her.”

Arthur looked straight at you and squeezed your hand. “I won’t.”

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