#lampe veritas

[yoursweetwife]

Warning: fluff, female reader, soft Ratio, the reader has trouble sleeping, It is mentioned that the reader is smaller than Ratio !bad english!

The ticking of the clock was the only sound that could be heard in the dark room, the only light source of which was a table lamp that illuminated piles of various papers and stationery.

The man's hand confidently, as if according to a well-honed scheme, continues to move the pen across the paper, crossing out the wrong answers. A sigh of annoyance escapes from the lips of Ratio, because of another stupid mistake. Why did these people come to study at all if they can't solve the simplest equations?

Dropping the pen, he runs his hand through his hair and closes his eyes. Veritas almost began to reproach himself for underestimating the number of papers and other documents that he now has to deal with, which is why he decided to leave their verification for later. It usually didn't cause problems, but today was extremely exhausting, people kept causing problems, and now he can't even relax at home.

Veritas's thoughts darted to the women who was sleeping in their shared room right now. The only thing he wanted right now was to be in her arms, bury his nose in her soft hair and, after a short love conversation, forget himself until morning.

There were quiet footsteps behind him and it didn't take a genius to figure out whose they were. A slight smile appeared on the tired face as soft little hands closed Veritas' eyes.

"Guess who I am~"

Ratio resisted the urge to roll his eyes when he heard your mischievous but tired voice. It was clear that you had just woken up.

His hand covered yours.

"You keep acting naughty, even though it's clear from your voice that you're ready to fall off your feet at any moment."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. You wrapped your arms around Veritas's neck and pulled him closer, pressing your smaller body against his and resting your chin on his broad shoulder.

"Then I need to sit down so that I don't fall down in the end."

You slowly walk around the chair and Ratio, taking the hint, leaned back in his chair, giving you the opportunity to sit on his lap. If, before his relationship with you, Veritas had been told that this pose would become his favorite, he would have started to deny it with disgust, but now he lets you choose the most comfortable position for the next two hours without resistance.

You pressed your cheek against his hard chest, wrapped your arms around his waist, and closed your eyes. One of his hands gently stroked your waist. Suddenly you wanted to sleep again, it was so peaceful in his arms.

"Am I bothering you?"

"Don't worry about me, I'm more concerned about your condition tomorrow."

The pure concern in his voice made your heart beat a little faster. You've been having trouble sleeping lately, which has made it impossible for you to work properly, but the presence of Ratio helped you, which is why he waited until you fell asleep to finish the paperwork.

"Then why don't you finish your work tomorrow and go to bed instead?"

Ratio shook his head. He hates leaving work unfinished.

"You already know my answer, - Veritas picked up the pen again and looked at you. - so you'd better go back to bed."

Your mind was telling you to listen to your lover's advice, but you didn't want to leave your comfortable position, besides, the desire to be next to Ratio in order to continue feeling this warmth overcame any thoughts.

Therefore, you made the only right decision, snuggled closer, making a sad mumble, as if you were offended by this proposal.

Ratio sighed irritably, but smiled anyway. Your unwillingness to take care of yourself put him in a stupor. Of course, you both have a stressful job, but Veritas was able to find a way out of even such a situation, while you had to follow a strict regime for normal functioning.

"Very well, just don't complain about feeling unwell in the morning, I'm not going to replace your lessons. Again."

It was exaggerated, you missed work three times this year, but who could blame Veritas for being too dramatic. Definitely not you.

"You say that every time, but you keep breaking that promise."

You started playing with Veritas's soft hair while continuing to watch his focused face. From your position, it was difficult to capture all his emotions, but you can still see a slight redness on his pale skin.

"I usually have no choice because others refuse to take extra hours."

"I'm ninety-nine percent sure that you asked for the students yourself. Just admit that you like to see the disappointed faces of the students every time you walk into the classroom with another test."

Ratio snorted and hit your hip, making you flinch in sudden pain.

"You better stop distracting me if you want me to finish faster. I've spent too much time on useless conversations."

He didn’t even flinch when he heard your offended sigh. Despite this, you continued to touch his face, running your cold fingers over the hot skin of his neck and chest, hoping to attract attention to you.

Ratio was surprisingly quiet, preferring to leave your actions without comment. Perhaps he noticed how your eyelids were starting to get heavy and thus wanted to speed up the process?

"Hey don't ignore me..."

A relentless weakness spread throughout his body, the sounds of the room and Veritas's steady heartbeat in tandem creating a sweet lullaby that fogged your brain. Golden eyes met your clouded eyes for a moment, although it was hard to tell if it was just your imagination.

As soon as your body relaxed, Veritas realized that you had fallen asleep. He stopped writing and focused his attention back on you. You looked too fragile in your thin nightie, it reminded him of your first night together, after which your relationship changed forever.

He tucked the hair that had fallen onto your face behind your ear and kissed the top of your head.

You're lucky that Veritas loves you enough to ignore your stupid antics, which he probably likes a little more than he admits.

#dr ratio x reader #hsr x reader #female reader #honkai star rail x reader #dr ratio #honkai star rail #dr ratio fluff #hsr

[ofduskanddreams]

Otherworldly

For @ablogofsapphicpanic. The request: Emorie … is regency and vampires too much?? 👀 maybe Mor is a noblewoman who is uhhh… a little elusive, Emerie is a bit of an outcast who runs her father’s shop after his death despite people turning up their noses, she gets a request from the lady of the land to keep her shop open a little bit later than usual because she’s just so busy during the day.

Emorie ✦ Rated: G ✦ 1.1k words ✦ on AO3

Emerie stared at the letter open on her shop counter as if waiting for the unbelievable words inked on the page to shift into something more plausible.

She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again but there the letter remained, its elegantly penned message unchanging.

Why on earth was Lady Morrigan Veritas inquiring about a visit to her store?

Emerie was proud of her store, and the work she did as a seamstress, but she catered to the lower middle-class townsfolk. Morrigan Veritas was the lady of the county; her estate, Athelwood, was known throughout the country for playing host to the most extravagant balls and events.

Again, Emerie blinked down at the letter asking her to remain open late this coming Friday to accommodate a visit from Lady Morrigan. She’d written the letter herself, explaining that her daily obligations were immovable and requesting (with far more kindness than was necessary, if Emerie was being honest) if she would make an exception. 

Her snort of disbelief drew the attention of her lone customer, and Emerie blushed, composing herself before asking if they needed any assistance.

That night, in the apartment above the shop with moonlight spilling across her quilt, Emerie’s mind wandered back to the strange letter. She knew she needed to respond, but she was undecided about the answer she would give. 

In the morning, Emerie’s curiosity won out, and she dropped off an affirmative response at the post office before opening the store. She’d heard so many stories about the enigmatic Lady Morrigan, and Emerie could not resist the temptation to discover any of them were true.

✦ ✦ ✦

The three remaining days passed as they usually did for Emerie: tea and toast, open the shop, lunch, close the shop, dinner, read, and sleep. She often caught her thoughts on the verge of lamenting that this life was monotonous. When that happened, she cut the idea off immediately. Her life may be boring by many standards, but she had her independence, her store, and a roof over her head that was hers alone. It was far more than any woman, especially one without wealth or any relation to a man in power, could dare to hope for.

She was lucky to live as she did, Emerie reminded herself, straightening the bolts of cotton and calico behind her as she waited for Lady Morrigan to arrive. The sun was almost set now, the shop lit by puddles of orange pooling around the oil lamps positioned around the room and the woodstove on the back wall. Emerie blamed her anxiety about the impending visit on the monotony of her day-to-day. Because things were always predictable, the unknown felt far more cavernous than it might have.

It definitely had nothing to do with the rumors of Lady Morrigan’s exquisite beauty (“otherworldly” as the few townsfolk who had seen her called it,) her grace, or her position.

The bell above the shop door chimed, a breeze of evening air and something like citrus and cinnamon into the quiet shop. Emerie took a deep breath before turning around, smoothing down her perfectly smooth skirt as she did… and promptly lost her grip on the English language.

The door swung closed behind the most beautiful woman Emerie had ever seen. That was one story already confirmed. Silky tendrils of flaxen hair framed a delicately boned face—dark lashed framed rich brown eyes, porcelain skin, lips painted a subtle shade of red. She was tall and held herself with an air of dignity that would not have been out of place for a queen.

“Good evening,” Lady Morrigan said. Her voice was warm and carried an edge of raspy depth that made Emerie want to shudder. “My name is Morrigan Veritas. You must be Emerie.”

Scrabbling to regain her hold on sanity, Emerie dipped into a hurried curtsey as embarrassment warmed her face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Morrigan. How may I be of assistance?”

The amused smirk of those reddened lips was not the response she’d been expecting, nor was the wide smile flashed in her direction as the lady said, “While there are many things you could help me with, I’m here because I would like to commission a gown.”

“A gown,” Emerie repeated. “From me.”

The lady looked at her with a knowing smile, “You’re very talented. I will admit that I’m an admirer of yours.”

“How?” Emerie blurted, quickly amending, “Forgive me, my lady. That was rude of me. I’m just curious how someone such as your esteemed self would be aware of my work.”

Lady Morrigan approached the section of silk bolts, running an elegant finger down the neat stack. “My lady’s maid frequents your shop,” she said. And a shock of energy went up Emerie’s spine as those eyes landed upon her again, now glowing like the embers of the hearth. 

Otherworldly.

“The quality of your work is unparalleled in the county,” the lady explained, then added, “and I will admit that hearing about a woman outright owning her business piqued my curiosity.”

“I’m honored, my lady.” Emerie wasn’t used to receiving any kind of praise for her work. Everything she made was serviceable but not necessarily beautiful. Usually, it was only the beautiful things that were considered worthy of praise. Beautiful things like the woman approaching her with gracefully long strides. 

A finger on her chin (surprisingly cold) tilted Emerie’s gaze up from where it had fallen to the floorboards. Her heart was racing, her body thrumming with desire. This was like every fantasy she’d ever had, and Emerie wondered if she was dreaming. 

Emerie met Lady Morrigan’s gaze, breath catching in her throat at their proximity. After a heartbeat of lightning-charged silence, the finger on her jaw withdrew. That connection broken, Emerie took a step back and found it easier to breathe. 

“Would you be willing to do it?” Lady Morrigan asked.

“Pardon?” Emerie was still reeling from that brief touch, from the lungful of light and tasteful perfume.

 Almost as if Emerie’s nervousness pleased her, the lady’s smile grew. “A gown. Would you be willing to make me one?”

In her mind’s eye scenes flashed of this stunning creature in her fitting room, the thick velvet drapes closing out the rest of the world so it was just Emerie and her, of the lady undressing to her shift and Emerie’s tape measure against thin white fabric. Her mouth dry, Emerie cleared her throat. “I would be honored to, my lady.”

✦ ✦ ✦

tagging: @damedechance @octobers-veryown @thelovelymadone @moonpatroclus @panicatthenightcourt @krem-does-stuff @foundress0fnothing @areyoudreaminof @talons-and-teeth

There's still time to submit drabble requests! Find the guidelines here :)

#emorie #emorie fic #emerie x mor #mor x emerie #emerie acotar #emerie of illyria #morrigan #morrigan acotar #pro morrigan #acotar fanfiction #acotar drabble #kate's celebratory drabbles series

[artdepleurer]

DOMESTICITY (AND OTHER CULTS) - ch. 13 - veritas odit moras

Miss Granger holds onto him tightly, her hands clasped around his arms. She pulls back with a smile, glowing under the lamp light. The sun itself radiates from her skin, even after it has long set and given way to the moon. Tom places his hand over hers, weaves his fingers with her own. He studies the shape, thinking of spiders and architects and structures not so easily broken.  If Tom were a composer he would write her a symphony. If he were a carpenter he would build her a palace. But he is a man of singular talents so he presses his lips against her cheek.

#tomione #tomione aesthetic #my lovely lil m*rder babies

[friendshipcampaign]

Session Recap 1/4/20 - Bird Murder, or Burder

Together, the party succeeded at deciphering the message that had been left with Amaranth’s things in the chest – correctly deducing out that the key it had been encoded with read “NOWHERE” – to find that it read:

My Dearest Callen, 

Technically these little trinkets are a bonus—you didn’t ask, but surely you deserve some sort of interest on an investment that’s been missing for so long. D has recorded their value and will be sending along a full report. I intend to receive a signature from your representative upon delivery as proof I’ve upheld my end of our little arrangement. For your own part, do have fun with your new toy. She did lose one of her companions in the altercation—that pathetic little elf. I could have made her remember losing more, but I wouldn’t want to deprive you of the satisfaction of breaking her yourself. 

Now, as agreed, I expect you to stay out of Veritas unless called upon. This is a delicate operation, and if your interference throws off the balance I am sure that neither of our patrons will look kindly upon it. You can resume your search for flotsam once everything is securely under control. It shouldn’t be long now. The demons are hardly bothering to hide, and the city is desperate for a savior. 

Cordially, 

The Lady of the Golden Brand

Amaranth, in particular, looked extremely nauseous at the text of the letter, but still managed to point out that there was a watermark of a white hart on the paper, suggesting the cult might be active at the White Hart paper mill. The group also discussed the fact that, according to the papers Thodri had given Kriv, there was an Elderberry Deckle at the Cavern paper mill who’d put an ad in the versos about looking for a tiefling named Dandelion Deckle.

Ditto asked Tiktik if they would be up for any spying that day, and when they agreed, transformed them into a beetle, so they’d be ready to snoop. The group discussed whether it made sense to deal with the devil cultists or the breaches being opened by the demonic cultists first—though the fact that Esmerelda’s letter made it sound like the former weren’t too concerned with the latter seemed potentially even more ominous than the breaches did. They also talked about the fact that it seemed like Tress was being kept at one of the paper mills, and agreed it probably made sense to investigate them. As the group prepared to head out, Palava called Erwyn over and cast Death Ward on him.

“Just a little extra protection,” he said, squeezing his shoulder.

Alembic suggested sneaking the party out of the city in the demiplane, which meant when everyone headed inside, they saw the sculptures of Volfred that Amaranth and Nora had made, which Kriv shrank down to a more manageable size and moved after heading over to his goat.

“What do you think of the images of me they have created?” Volfred asked him.

“That one is pretty good,” Kriv said, pointing to the one Nora had been working on.

“Yes, the dwarf has more patience for these things than your tiefling friend.”

When Ditto referred to Kriv by his alias, Volfred asked about it and Kriv explained the party was on the run, but did not elaborate on everything that had happened since. With the party waiting for a bit in the demiplane, Kriv did take the opportunity to look at the mail that he’d recieved

Voski, meanwhile, consolidated some of the skull lamps Tenny had made into a chandelier.

Eventually, the demiplane door opened up and Palava waved enthusiastically at the party to let them know they’d gotten outside of town successfully. On their way to the Cavern papermill, Ditto sent Tiktik to spy on the White Heart, but they really only saw workers hanging up sheets of paper in the mill. The group knocked on the door to the Cavern and were greeted by an elderly halfling who introduced himself as Elderberry. When Voski mentioned they were there because of his ad in the versos, his demeanor changed, asking if they knew anything about “DeeDee,” and the group asked if they could speak with him in his office.

Voski explained to Elderberry that the party was in a somewhat similar situation, searching for a friend of a friend who was also a tiefling that had gone missing. Elderberry explained that DeeDee had gone missing on Blomhath 18th, nearly a week ago. He said it felt as though the watch had just stopped trying to follow up with missing persons reports. It was also explained that he’d adopted Dandelion, whose parents hadn’t been expecting a tiefling. 

After Voski asked if Elderberry had a working relationship with any moembers of the watch, and he explained that some of his employees had minor infractions in the past, which meant the city watch occasionally bothered them. Around that time, a goblin Elderberry referred to as Zero briefly interrupted the group to ask if everything was alright. When Voski asked about the mercenaries working in town, Elderberry admitted he didn’t have a very high opinion of them, but there was no curfew out by the mills. Kriv asked if anyone unusual had come into the mill prior to Dandelion’s disappearance. He said there wasn’t anyone he could think of, but that the other mills got more unusual clientele.

Suddenly, Ditto, who had been oddly quiet for much of the conversation, asked if she could have a look around the paper mill because she’d never been in one before. Elderberry agreed, but as she was zooming out the door of the office and into the mill, Erwyn Messaged her to ask if everything was alright.

“I think… that goblin…” she said, “I think that Tiktik knew them… bye!”

The others continued their conversation with Elderberry. Erwyn asked about some of the individuals that had been coming and going from the other paper mills, and Elderberry mentioned that the White Hart in particular had been so busy that Vatman, the proprietor, cancelled the papermaker’s subset of the stationer’s meeting for the first time ever last month. He also mentioned that there was a distinguished-looking fire genasi who’d been putting orders in there.

Ditto succeeded in finding Zero chatting with a big bugbear, and told them that she’d been together with Tiktik the goblin a long time ago. Zero immediately asked if she was Ditto, and suggested they duck into the rag-sorting room to talk. They told Ditto that Tiktik told a lot of stories about her, though they suspected that not all of them were all the way true – things like her tying guards shoelaces together, Goz the Great, how when she met Tiktik she shot fire at a guy and they had to flee. It turned out that Zero knew about the package Tiktik had left with Knife.

“Knife was sure you’d come back, but I didn’t know,” Zero said. “I kind of thought you’d just be a weird story.”

“Well I guess all of us are weird stories eventually, right?” said Ditto.

Zero told Ditto that Tiktik had been her adopted aunt. Apparently Zero and Brenga, the bugbear they’d been talking to, had come into town together and Tiktik had taken them under her wing. They told Ditto that Tiktik had talked about her a lot, but especially towards the end, and commented that a cuna wasn’t finished until the person it was intended for got it. Ditto told them it made her feel sosoceni – a goblin word she’d learned from Tiktik, though she and Zero both laughed at how she still struggled to pronounce it. She asked it it would be weird if she gave them a hug, but Zero said it was alright – though after giving them a tight squeeze, Ditto warned them that she and her friends were looking into some stuff and Veritas was really dangerous right now. She also told them about how she could cast Sendings, and that she’d try to warn them of any danger if she could.

“It’s magic. It’s like wizard shit. I can do so much wizard shit now, it’s crazy. I don’t know how to deal with it,” said Ditto.

Ditto then rejoined the rest of the party, who were preparing to leave. Once they were outside, Amaranth and Palava asked Ditto if she’d seen anything interesting, and she explained about the connection between Zero and Tiktik. She emotionally said she hoped everything turned out okay for everyone at the Cavern, because she was really fond of them all now. Kriv patted her as she explained.

As the group approached the other paper mills, Ditto sent her familiar Tiktik to snoop on the White Hart paper mill again, through whose eyes she noticed that the workers in the mill seemed to be working a little suspiciously in unison. Through a door, she also saw a white tabaxi with a black mark over their eye, who looked like the one the group had seen during the fight at Inner Truths—though they weren’t sure if he was the original or a duplicate. 

Erwyn offered to try detecting fiends in the area, and the group settled down among some trees so he could focus. He picked up on something that looked like a raven on the roof of one of the paper mills, but that actually pinged as a devil. As his awareness spread and hit the city walls, he felt a building wave of demonic presence that hurt his head and eventually grew overwhelming.

The group discussed options for distracting or sneaking past the “raven,” deciding they should probably take it out before they headed into the mill. Since it seemed worth looking for ways to sneak in the building before engaging it, everyone did some investigation, but came up empty—though Kriv did manage to find some nice medicinal herbs in the process. Tiktik’s investigation at least turned up a door leading to the lower part of the mill, but with no windows looking in.

Amaranth hid some of the foliage nearby in order to get the element of surprise. Ditto linked to the Arcane Shuttle, in order to cast a distraction once it was placed, which she gave to Erwyn, who she then cast Invisibility on. He dropped it in an unassuming spot and hid himself in the foliage as well. Ditto cast a rustling sound through the shuttle, and the devil hopped off the roof and into the trees to investigate. 

Once the devil was in range, Amaranth, threw the ice dagger at it, utterly obliterating it. The party then sprang into action. Ditto cast Mage Armor on herself as the group rushed to the door of the paper mill. Palava slipped slightly on the way, and Kriv helped him up and along. There was a heavy lock on the door, which Amaranth was able to pick easily. Kriv cast Aid on Ditto, Erwyn, and Voski as the group headed inside.

It was dark inside the mill, prompting the dragonborn to don their scarf and goggles respectively. There was another locked door inside, which Amaranth proceeded to check for traps before unlocking it. She opened the door and snuck in, entering a room full of manacled humanoid shapes–including the tabaxi proprietor. She silenced him before he could cry out, saying they were here to rescue him.

As the others entered the room, Ditto recognized some of the other figures in the room as the employees of the paper mill. Erwyn and Voski noticed several piles of papermaking rags in the corners of the rooms which had some kind of spherical glassware underneath them that looked suspicious and potentially magical. Kriv used Divine Sense, but didn’t detect any fiends nearby. Amaranth went to attempt to unlock a set of manacles, but Voski, who had noticed something carved into their edges, gestured for her to wait. 

Voski asked if there was some kind of a spell on the manacles. Vatman, the proprietor, replied that there might be as “they” had a lot of magic, warning about oozes that could take you out of your mind. Palava knelt down to examine the manacles, then the glass vessels in the corners of the room, saying that they were linked–and the latter were triggered to explode if the manacles were tampered with. Kriv reassured some of the prisoners, asking them to stay quiet but promising they were going to get them all out. Palava put a hand on Vatman’s shoulder, making the same promise and casting Calm Emotions–though not before asking for permission, in case the prisoners had had enough of magical effects. 

Voski had wandered back into the first room, where she had noticed some strange discoloration near a ladder leaning against the wall. She tried sending a Message in Esmerelda’s voice down below, since it looked like there might be a trapdoor, saying “Tressamine, darling, how’s my favorite assistant?”–to no response. Ditto investigated the trapdoor area and noticed that there seemed to be a metal layer underneath it, with some sort of spell on it. Voski tried casting Dispel Magic on it, causing the spell to vanish. 

She tried sending the same Message, a little more irritably the second time, and heard back “Oh, I think we’re making very good progress.”

Voski informed the others Tress was down there, but might still be compromised. She tried messaging her in Esmerelda’s voice again, saying she was thinking about getting some food in town and asking if she wanted anything. Tress replied saying she liked the spicy dumplings at a particular stall. Voski then tried asking via another Message what the schedule was that day, and was told that Kereft was in, as usual–though Tress added that he was being unhelpful, as always.

“Kisses,” said Voski in Esmerelda’s voice, finishing the Messaging exchange.

“--W-what?” replied Tress.

After Voski let the others know Tress wasn’t alone, Kriv broke the trapdoor open to reveal a room with stacks of paper, and iron cage, and an oddly fancy chair, as well as a door to another room. Kriv tried Divine Sense again, and while it didn’t detect anything, he noticed an ooze flowing from beneath the bars of the cage. Quickly, he dropped the ladder down so the party could rush downstairs. 

Amaranth went after the ooze and successfully beat back the smaller ooze that had flowed through the cell with a powerful attack. Kriv went after it next, hitting it twice and casting Diving Smite on the second of his attacks, which allowed Erwyn to run past, maintaining his Invisibility. Voski cast Vicious Mockery on the smaller ooze, saying “Oh, you’re still here?” and it recoiled, at this point barely holding itself together. 

Kriv and Amaranth felt a tugging on their minds from the ooze, and while Kriv was able to fight it off, Amaranth ended up frozen in place, unable to move. Four tendrils separated themselves from the larger ooze and morphed into humanoid figures=–one of which took the form of Vatman-–that drew swords and screamed out incomprehensibly. Alembic then closed his eyes and focused on an aura that strengthened the minds of those standing near him. Ditto cast Magic Missile on the smaller ooze, which destroyed it, and then flew up towards the ceiling.

Palava remained up above, saying he didn’t want to leave the prisoners, but still was able to lean down and cast Sacred Flame on the larger, remaining ooze. Amaranth—who had regained the ability to move when Ditto destroyed the smaller ooze—tried rushing past the four gooplicates, meaning one got an attack in on her, but succeeded in attacking the larger ooze twice.

Kriv turned to Voski, “Do you want me to go get her now?”

“I think we’re beyond secrecy now,” she replied.

He ran to the door on the other side of the room, only to discover it was locked, so he busted it in physically. On the other side was a room filled with alchemical equipment, as well as as Tress and the fire genasi that Palette’s footage had shown in Inner Truths. Kriv attempted to position himself between Tress and the genasi, and as soon as he got close, there was a sudden shift in her eyes and she looked horrified. Furious, Kriv cast Wrathful Smite on his hammer. Erwyn followed Kriv into the other room and cast Ray of Frost at the genasi, causing his Invisibility to drop. He then asked Tress if she was okay.

“Physically,” she replied.

Voski attempted to whack one of the gooplicates near her with a sword, but failed. She then asked Ditto to give her the shuttle. Inside the other room, the genasi moved away from Kriv, who was at least able to smash him with his hammer, adding a Divine Smite for good measure. The genasi pulled something that looked like a tuning fork from his belt, and grabbed a flask with arcane markings on it that looked like the ones the group had seen upstairs.

“Put your weapons down,” the genasi said threateningly, “Or all the prisoners will die.”

#session recap

[angelholme]

May, Myself and I -- V, V, V

So for the fifth year, I will come, I will see and I will write some version of the truth (Veni, Vici, Veritas). And it will also be the final year I do this, because — you know — there’s only so much you can write (as I am learning about fanfiction).

Purple

Light

Stars

Book

Charm

King

Belll

Lamp

Snowglobe

Three

Bend

Set

Blues

Room

Future

Court

Green

Smile

Cave

Web

Freedom

Muppet

Gods

Anon

Truth

Prime

Eternity

Fact

Paradox

Past

Faith, Hope, Charity

I start on the 1st, so — lets see what happens, shall we?

x-x-x

All of you are free to join in as well — you take the word of the day and create something about yourself. A picture, a poem, a post, a song — whatever you want. Then share it to the web. You can post the link to your creation on your own space, or as a comment under my entry for the day (if you wish).

https://angelholme.tumblr.com/post/683160809663266816/m4mi-what-is-it-why-do-i-do-it-and-what-is

#may myself and i #vvv #carrie hope fletcher #year 5

[kirudifanuh]

Aeg lavatherm 56609 bedienungsanleitung philips

  AEG LAVATHERM 56609 BEDIENUNGSANLEITUNG PHILIPS >> DOWNLOAD LINK vk.cc/c7jKeU

  AEG LAVATHERM 56609 BEDIENUNGSANLEITUNG PHILIPS >> READ ONLINE bit.do/fSmfG

    ��      Geräte wie Achslager kpl Lavatherm/- 400, 401, 450, 450E, 450R, 450RE, 500, 92x Keilrippenriemen 1932 PH 8 MAEL Weitere Vertreiber Seite 268 -> AEG. 1 - E52 bzw. spontanes Schleudern -- Waschtrockner AEG L12620 Ersatzteile für 112 - Waeschetrockner Trockner AEG Lavatherm 56609-W -- Waeschetrockner Veritas textima 8014/40 bedienungsanleitung philips ://mimecuhahufo.tumblr.com/post/692685288140619776/aeg-lavatherm-56609-bedienungsanleitung-v-tech, 899 647 405 468 Lavatherm/- 400, 401, 450, 450E, 450R, 450RE, 500, 500E, 500R, 500RE, 8000, AEG..(Electrolux-Gruppe) Weitere Vertreiber Seite 268 ALLEN HEATH ML 4000 BEDIENUNGSANLEITUNG PHILIPS >> DOWNLOAD LINK vk.cc/c7jKeU /post/692685288140619776/aeg-lavatherm-56609-bedienungsanleitung-v-tech, LAMPE GLÜHBIRNE E14 10W 230V Trockner Miele 4263810 auch AEG 1256508019 - EUR AEG Trockner Electrolux-Konzern Lavatherm 3030 W 60762502600 19920101 AEGVerwandte Produkte und Handbücher für Trockner Aeg T7628EXAC · Trockner Aeg 56740 Bedienungsanleitung · Trockner Aeg LAVATHERM 56609 Bedienungsanleitung · Trockner Stöbern Sie online oder laden Sie AEG LAVATHERM 56609 User Manual 36 Seiten herunter. Trockner Aeg LAVATHERM 56609 Benutzerhandbuch pdf kostenlos Die Bedienungsanleitung ist natürlich auch vollkommen identisch. 15 - Anschlussbelegung -- Gefrierschrank AEG Öko Arktis Super 2384-2 GT LF.

https://kirudifanuh.tumblr.com/post/694151479397941248/velodyne-dd-12-plus-bedienungsanleitung-target, https://qudexevecen.tumblr.com/post/694150919337787392/delonghi-eam-3500-s-bedienungsanleitung-medion, https://rasoripup.tumblr.com/post/694151406098235392/kingsoft-office-android-deutsch-handbuch, https://kirudifanuh.tumblr.com/post/694151355769683968/wouxun-kg-689e-bedienungsanleitung-target, https://rasoripup.tumblr.com/post/694150791197605888/neff-gv-340-bedienungsanleitung-galaxy.

[trickster-whim]

I was just trying to get some blue light on Veritas but my lamp cycles colors too quickly

#Pullip Veritas

[hamelinsnightmare]

ボッカデラベリタ

😈 💜 😈 💜 😈 💜 😈 💜

#bocca della verita #hiiragi kirai #柊キライ #vocaloid #v flower #stim #stimboard #moodboard #my stims #purple #black #glow #neon #scenecore #emocore #lightning #nails #jellyfish #lava lamps #keyboard #night #dark #edgy

[rumorukaraizon]

CANDLES “WASP LIGHT”

Conversion from TS3

Candles with animated flame

Fixed for the recent game updates

4 items: 3 variations of floor candle (different height) and 1 for ceiling

3 colors for each one

Extracted from “Alice: Madness returns” by @vkg-simblr

Poly ~ 1200 & 2600

Video preview HERE

Known bug. Usually ceiling lights hiding when you zoom game camera in. But animation effects doesn't work that way. If light is on and you get closer to the object, flame will stay visible anyway. This is not fixable, sorry =(

DOWNLOAD: GOOGLE DRIVE | SIMFILESHARE

#ts4 cc #AMR #candles #table light #floor lamp #ceiling light #fantasy #buy mode #medium poly #veritas aka kg #rumoruka raizon

[sailorhyunjinz]

~𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 ~

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ; hyunjin x fem!reader, SMUT!! childhood!bestfriends, in vino veritas, sex under influence, summer!au, uni!au, drunken confession, (not really) mutual pining, explicit language, piv, unprotected sex (once again, a bad example! don’t forget the raincap in the storm), riding, kinda vanilla sex, uuuh,,, corruption kink if you squint, orgasm (m/f), cum, muffled moaning? (that is not the correct term but lets go with that)

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 2.8 k 

𝘙𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 ; ye ye thank u anon!! <3

𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦 ; lmao i know he has dark hair in the picture but just imagine that he’s blonde aight also damnit wtf happened to that edge of the header picture aaah,,, im no editor u guys- also once again, the fucking title has nothing to do with the story, i just felt like it

holy shit now i understand why i dont write vanilla sex or like slow stuff,,, because it pains me with cringe- or maybe i get flustered,,, 

29. “Maybe I would like you better if you took off your clothes” ; The 1975 - If you’re too shy (Let me know)

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 18.

Hwang Hyunjin.

You liked him in every type of way. You even liked the way his name rolled of your tongue like some kind of sweet mantra. You would have confessed if only he wasn’t your childhood best friend. 

“y/n! ready to parteeey?” he yelled across the crosswalk, holding up a slightly dirty tan canvas bag, the bottles of cold liquor clinking against each other as he moved, the green man lighting up on the red stoplight. His high platform sneakers moved swiftly against the white striped concrete, making his way over to you and stretching out his arms, catching you in an embrace when he finally crossed the road.

“i see you brought drinks even if it’s only a casual sleepover” you chuckled, patting him on the back as you pulled away, walking towards the direction of your house in the scorching summer evening. 

“of course, who said you couldn’t have a party with two people?” he answered back, slightly embarrassed by the way the bottles hit each other, causing other pedistrians to turn their heads. You shrugged your shoulders, looking at him as you walked closeby his side, admiring his profile and the way his blonde long locks were pushed behinds his ears, exposing his cute studded earrings. He turned his head, gazing at you to which you quickly diverted your eyes towards the ground below your feet, hearing Hyunjin giggle from your antics. 

“how’s your mom? she doing good?” he asked after walking a couple of meters, holding the bag in one hand and his phone in the other one. 

“yeah! but why do you ask? you literally messaged her yesterday” you smiled to which Hyunjin hummed, pouting and shrugging. 

“because she’s like my best friend,,, duh?” he chuckled, poking you playfully at the side of your tummy causing you to flinch away, you being rather ticklish. 

“hey! you can’t just make my mom your bestie, tsk,, stealing away my mom like that” you said, laughing in between words and noticing that the two of you were soon standing infront of your house door, the kitchen and living room window radiating warm yellow light and a silhouette moving behind the dark curtains. You retreived the keys that were in the pockets of your shorts, something you threw on quickly to go meet Hyunjin even though he knew the way to your house. It was just an excuse to be with him a bit longer. 

You put the keys in the lock, jumbling around as Hyunjin looked at you with glossy dark brown eyes, holding the bag with two hands in front of his knees. The door opened and the light shined on you, illuminating the front yard that was getting dark as the sun was setting. The two of you stepped in, removing your shoes and hearing Hyunjin place the bag down on the cold tile flooring moments before your mother walked out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn. 

“Oh hello Hyunjin! How’s school?” She asked, placing 3 pieces of popcorn in her mouth and chewing, her jaw moving from side to side. 

“Uni is going great, stressful but y/n helps me,,, kinda” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head and looking down at the ground, you playfully hitting him on his upper arm. Your mom smiled at the two of you.

“Don’t stay up too late!” she yelled as she made her way to the living room where your dad was lounging on the sofa with a cold beer in his hands, watching a game of football. 

“We won’t mom!” you yelled back, grabbing Hyunjin’s bag and waving your hand, signaling for him to follow you to your bedroom. He tiptoed carefully, not wanting to knock something down even though he’s slept over at yours well over a thousand times since your early childhood but still, it was in Hyunjin’s nature to be gentle and timid at first glance, another reason as to why you liked him so much. 

Your bedroom was nothing out of the ordinary. White walls filled with various trinkets, family photos decorating them. Your bed was big enough to fit two but you had a sleeping bag in the corner of the room from just how often Hyunjin would crash at your place. There was not much more besides a cluttered desk, your single bed and a carpet along with a white drawer and a mirror. You plopped down on the bed, feeling the soft material against your exposed calfs. Hyunjin knew what to do, grabbing and unfolding the sleeping bag before emptying the contents of his beige bag, multiple bottles of beer and cider along with a small bottle of pure vodka.

“Why the fuck did you bring vodka? You know my parents are gonna kill me if they find this in my room” you sneered, rolling your eyes at the boy that was sitting on the bedroom floor, mischievously looking up at you. 

“y/n you’re in uni, what are they gonna do? ground you?” you shook your head. 

“Yeah? or kick me out of the house” you persisted, tilting your head as Hyunjin looked around the room in search for a bottle opener. 

“Says the girl that puked behind a slide” he laughed to which you kicked him, causing him to fall over and you getting the final laugh. 

“I’m gonna go grab some snacks and a bottle opener since you’re too weak to open them” you tsked, heading towards the door and turning the doorknob.

“ppft,,, too weak” you heard Hyunjin complain as you exited the room, small steps making their way to the kitchen. You flipped the light switch, the grey lamp hanging from the ceiling, you witnessing the messy dishes from dinner earlier. You opened the dark brown cabinet where you usually stored your snacks, grabbing two packets of crisps and rummaging through the smaller cabinet that was home for the multitude of kitchen supplies your dad and mom like to collect. You found one, decorated with some picture of a sea, probably from one of dads business trips you thought, closing the cabinets and turning off the light, stepping back to your bedroom. 

“Here” you said, throwing the metal opener towards the blonde boy that was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, lying sprawled out on the carpet. Hyunjin dramatically clutched his stomach, acting as if he’s been hit with a boulder to which you scoffed, sitting down next to him on the floor and opening the first bag of crisps and being once again disappointed by the air to chip ratio. 

Hyunjin opened two bottles of beer, handing one over to you which you happily received, putting the slightly cold edge against your hot lips and drinking the bitter liquid, feeling it burn a bit in your throat but soothe it in this summers heat. Your face contorted into disgust, looking on the rather dodgy blue lable that was peeling a bit on the edges. You looked over to Hyunjin that was making a similar expression to yours, his nose sqrunching in that cute manner it always did. 

“aren’t we both like,,, too easily influenced?” he said quietly as you stood up, retrieving your computer to put on a movie. You nodded, giggling when you sat back down and placed the computer on the floor, typing something on your computer and pointing towards the screen.

“this one or,,,, this one?” you said to which Hyunjin pointed at the latter, knowing he would pick the animated movie, him being childish as he is. 

An hour passed and at this point the two of you were tipsy, multiple bottles making their presence known by standing beside you, all emptied to the last drop. The alcohol was flushing Hyunjin’s cheeks, tinging them with a light red along with the tips of his ears, your hearts thumping from how dangerously close his hand was to yours. You were starting to get tired, probably drowsy from the alcohol you thought as you layed down to which Hyunjin reacted, patting his lap.

“Put your head here, why put it on the floor?” he chuckled, his words slurring slightly. You froze, comtemplating on whether or not you should do it or if your heart could even manage being in contact with him. You cleared your throat, trying to get back to your senses. He was your childhood best friend for fuck sake. Shyly you put your head on his thigh, still watching the movie and trying to focus on what was happening on the screen but being completely lost in your own lewd thoughts, wondering how his soft lips would feel brushing up against yours, ctaching you in a hasty kiss. You sighed as the end credits rolled, seeing Hyunjin’s angular face reflecting on the screen and his gaze catching yours on the reflective monitor. Both of you burst out in laughter, the substances intoxicaing you into a laughing fit. You sat up again, pushing him by the shoulder and causing him to fall over with his arms stretched out to the sides, you falling closely to him and using his forearm as a headrest. 

“y/n, have you ever liked me?”

You gulped. Was it that apparent? You shook your head, mumbling a quiet “no” to which Hyunjin giggled, his chest heaving up and down. He messed with his blonde hair, pushing it back and furrowing his eyesbrows before relaxing his facial features, closing his eyes softly.

“i like you but maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes”

You choked on your own spit, sitting up and patting yourself on the chest. It was unlike Hyunjin to speak this bluntly, especially about such suggesstive topics. He laughed at your reaction, acting as if he hadn’t just made you choke with only his words. After the initial shock set in you decided to play smart, if he was being oblivious so would you. You looked back at the blonde boy that still had his eyes closed, smirking and with a tone interlaced with pure erotic connotations you said;

“yeah? and if I did take off my clothes, what would you do?” you giggled back at him, feeling a warm flash of heat zap through your body and ultimately landing in your dripping core. Hyunjin’s eyes sprung open, the corners of his mouth curling upwards into a exuberant smirk. A million thoughts ran through Hyunjin’s mind. Should he continue the little game he had started or end it all now in order to save your friendship? But maybe ruining your friendship was exactly what he needed or more like what you needed.

The tall boy sat up, pulling you by your wrist and quickly pursing his cherry red lips, clashing them against the surface of your gently chapped pout. You thought you melted right then and there, taking in the scent of the boy you never invisioned yourself kissing but here you were, your lips pressed up against his. He grabbed your hand, encasing yours in his and feeling the warmth radiating from your nervous state. With a slight tilt of the head, Hyunjin could reach deeper inside your mouth, tracing his tongue over yours and pursing his lips causing a smooching sound to escape. Your felt his hot breath stroking your heated cheek, sending shivers down your spine. 

“a-are you ok, y/n? I’m s-sorry!” he said, pulling away and hiccuping after finishing his sentence. You shook your head, giggling which caught Hyunjin by surprise. You were ecstatic. 

“please kiss me Hyunjin, i’ve been wanting you so bad” you mumbled, Hyunjin’s jaw clenching in confusion. 

“me? i want you!” he said, laughing at your seriousness causing you to crack a smile, pushing him down on the floor and slamming the computer shut, the background track of the movie disappering. Now only the sound of the loud TV downstairs was heard along with your lips pecking Hyunjin’s. You hovered above the boy, your hands on either side of him. You felt your wet cunt aching for him, you wanted him inside of you and it seemed like you weren’t the only excited one, Hyunjin’s bulge growing bigger with every caress of his body. Your hands snaked down to the zipper of his ripped jeans, with a steady hand unzipping and unbuttoning, wanting to free him from his clothed prison that was keeping you from him. 

“Eager or something?” Hyunjin tsked, trailing kisses along your jawline and neck. You didn’t answer his stupid question. Of course you were eager, this was what you had dreamed of for years. This was what played out in every single wet dream you ever had. This was what occupied your mind when nothing else mattered. It was him. Hwang Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin bucked his hips upwards, granting you the honor to pull down his pants and boxers in a brisk motion which you happily took. His cock sprung free, leaking with precum embarrassingly enough causing you to snicker. Could the sight of his best friend make him this horny? You quickly moved aside from Hyunjin’s figure in order to free yourself from your shorts and white lace panties. The blonde boy was in a dilemma. He liked you,,, a lot, but you were his best friend. Was it worth risking a friendship for sex and maybe even something else?

Your answer was yes. Yes if it was Hyunjin. 

You straddled Hyunjin’s thigh, balancing on your knees and placing your hands firmly on his hard abdomen, positioning your hungry hole above his dick, the slit being decorated with a shining pearl of precum. Hyunjin’s eyes were closed in anticipation, his hands trying to grab onto the carpet on the floor, clawing at the material.

“you good? ready?” you asked in worry, thinking maybe he was uncomfortable. 

Hyunjin shook his head in agreement. He was nervous. If he opened his eyes he could cum by just the lewd sight of your pussy about to swallow his dick whole. He was adorable being this shy, always acting innocent but not really living up to that standard, at least not in this moment. You slowly sink down on his erect cock, Hyunjin letting out a hiss at the same time you gasped, slapping a hand over your mouth in order to not be too loud. The boy was stretching you out to the brink of completion, it was impossible to bottom out from the sheer size of his throbbing cock. Hyunjin turned his head side to side, his cheek coming in contact with the cold floor. He looked in pain, his forehead furrowing but he reassured you that it felt good, maybe even too good. Your gently bounced up and down his cock, with each thrust earning another groan from the panting boy. Seeing him lost in pleasure made your core burn with arousal, needing to chase your impending orgasm. The boy slowly opened his eyes, peeking at you rocking backwards and forwards on his cock, biting your lip and tracing your hands along his abdomen underneath his shirt. 

“d-does it feel good?” he asked in a dazed voice, striking a half smile as he moved his hands to your waist, simply resting them there. You nodded, lulling your head backwards, your tits bouncing underneath the fabric of your oversized t-shirt, hardened nipples poking through. Hyunjin drooled at the sight and the sensations. He had longed for this just as much as you had. Hyunjin’s hands trailed up your shirt, wrapping his hands around your boobs and harshly kneading them, the pads of his thumb gliding over your nipples. You shuddered, clenching around his cock, Hyunjin’s eyes shut tightly and his toes curling from the sensation of balancing on a pinnacle, tumbling into his orgasm. He couldn’t control his words, whispering your name out like a mantra along with the words “i love you”. Those were words you didn’t hear him say often. 

The feeling of his hot cum oozing between your velvety walls got you holding onto Hyunjin’s shirt for life, his hand gently placed over your parted lips that continusly spilled with whimpers and pleas. You looked at Hyunjin with lost eyes, your pace slowling down as you rode out your orgasm, thighs shaking involuntarily, giving up beneath you. Hyunjin lifted slightly by your hips, you pulling off him and with a thud rolled over on your back, laying next to him on the floor. The room filled with heavy breathing, sweaty bodies trying to find composure after the rather interesting orgasm. All your thoughts were in once big mush, hindering you from forming a sentence. 

“What now?” Hyunjin said in a sleepy manner, rolling over to his side and hugging you awkwardly. You didn’t know. All you knew that you wanted him. You were hoping he would become yours. More than once. 

#stray kids smut #skz smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #skzsmut #skz fanfic #skz x y/n #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x stay #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x stay #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x reader

[chudleycanonficfest]

Day 29, Story #1 is by @floreatcastellumposts

Title: In Vino Veritas Author/Artist: Floreatcastellum Pairing: Gen (Harry - Molly platonic/parent-child) Prompt: In Vino Veritas Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Heavy alcohol consumption, mild language.  Molly Weasley was not stupid, and was well aware that young men enjoyed going out and getting drunk. She was not even particularly opposed to it - in principle - and she had to admit that she was very relieved to see George so excited about something. He hadn’t been excited in several long months.

‘Just don’t be too silly,’ she told him.

‘Us? Silly?’ he said, affronted.

‘I mean it, things might be safer but you’re all still targets - especially Harry, he needs to be particularly aware-’

‘I think he is more than aware that people out there want him dead. What he needs is a lot of alcohol to forget that.’

‘No, George.’

She knew he was winding her up, but she also knew that they were planning a big night out, because Ron and Harry had never really had one before, and in all honesty as much as she couldn’t help her disapproval, she did also feel that it was a shame they had missed out on such a rite of passage.

All the same, since George had let it slip, she knew she was going to worry, and her way of coping with that twisting, maternal anxiety was to insist that after their night out they returned, not to the flat in Diagon Alley they shared, but to the Burrow so that she could make them a full English in the morning.

She had also intended to stay up waiting for them, and to call the Law Enforcement Patrol if they were not back by half one to go and search for them, just in case something terrible had happened. But it was an awfully cold Halloween, and so she had got into bed next to Arthur so that she could have the warmth of the duvet, propped herself up against the headboard, and started knitting. The next thing she knew, she was being woken by an almighty crash.

‘Oh, fuck!’

‘Wahey!’

Both Molly and Arthur had already grabbed their wands in a panic before they heard their son’s exasperated voice.

‘Get up - get up, you idiot - George, hold him - oh for crying out loud-’

‘RON-’

‘Ssh! Don’t shout-’

‘Get him some water-’

‘He needs more than water - ahhh I have a brilliant idea-’

‘No, you don’t, whatever it is, abandon it-’

‘HEY, WOW, LOOK AT-’

‘SSH!’

‘That’ll be the boys back, then,’ said Arthur, turning on the bedside lamp and giving her a wry smile. The clock on the table said that it was approaching three in the morning.

‘Sounds like it, what on earth is all the shouting about?’ she asked, pulling on her dressing gown. Tying the cord tightly about her waist and slipping her feet into slippers, she listened to the commotion echoing up the stairs, and tried to figure out what exactly they were doing.

She could hear snorting laughter as she descended the creaking stairs, and Ron’s voice again, sounding remarkably grown up, saying, ‘don’t encourage him, stop it - put that down-’

She could hear saucepans clattering and tins falling, and the hissing spit of the gas; she looked over her shoulder to exchange a bewildered look with Arthur. ‘Are they cooking?’ she whispered, though there was no need, because there was no chance of them hearing her above the noise of George hooting.

‘Beans on toast, beans on toast!’

‘BEANS ON TOAST!’ came Harry’s echo.

‘Shut up, shut up, shut up, both of you, shut-’

‘BEANS ON TOAST!’

Molly had heard enough; she threw open the kitchen door so violently that George jumped and threw an open tin of baked beans several feet into the air. They landed with an impressive splatter across the slate floor. Harry, meanwhile, reached for his wand, but had instead seized a loaf of bread which he now brandished threateningly as he leaned against the counter. Ron had frozen in the middle of filling a glass of water, which now flowed over his hand. All three of them were still streaked with smears of paint from what she assumed were their Halloween costumes.

‘What on earth is going on in here?’ she demanded loudly.

Ron gave a heavy, exaggerated sigh. ‘You woke Mum and Dad,’ he told George and Harry pointlessly.

Harry lowered the bread, and held it sheepishly in both hands, like a child with a toy. George, in a carrying, apologetic whisper, said, ‘...sorry. We’re a bit drunk. Go back to bed.’

‘We can see that,’ said Arthur. ‘Harry,’ he added sharply. ‘What’s wrong with your foot?’

‘Oh, I… I fell on it. It doesn’t matter.’

‘He was dancing on a table!’ exclaimed George, with an accusatory point.

‘I wasn’t dancing, I was standing-’

‘Look at the state of you all!’ she said furiously, as Arthur calmly went over to Harry and guided him, hobbling, to a kitchen chair. ‘So irresponsible-’

‘I’m not that bad!’ said Ron defensively, and in truth Molly was rather surprised and a little proud at how he was being the responsible adult of the group, but there was no denying the heavy slurring, and the slight sway as he towered above her.

'You're not going to lose your bones,' she could hear Arthur saying reassuringly.

‘Mum,’ George was saying urgently, ‘Mum, can you make us beans on toast?’

‘No I will not make you beans on flipping toast! I’ll make you breakfast at a reasonable hour, right now you need to-’

‘Molly,’ Arthur called, ‘Molly, I think we’ll need some Skele-gro-’

‘Noooo - no, Mr Weasley, it’s fine, look, I can-’

Arthur gave a horrified yelp. ‘Don’t do that!’

‘I’ll get it,’ said Ron loudly, and, weaving erratically, he crossed the room to the Healing kit on top of the cupboards.

‘Mum,’ George continued, ‘if I hover up those beans, they’ll be all right, won’t they? Ten second rule, and if I let them boil for a bit?’

In short, it was chaos. Noisy, drunken chaos. In truth, she found it rather amusing, though it was still equally easy to frown and scowl at them. Somehow, and she could not muddle through the boys drunken logic, rooms were assigned and she found herself - and, again, she could not quite see how she had ended up in this situation, guiding Harry into Ron’s attic room and trying to help him into pyjamas. She had noticed before that Harry was a little more open, a little more affectionate, when he’d had a drink, but she had never quite seen him drunk before, and though the first time he had stopped her on the way up the stairs so he could hug her had been rather endearing, by this point she was getting rather fed up.

‘Mrs Weasley,’ said Harry loudly. ‘Mrs Weasley - I-’

‘Come on, dear,’ she said, more grumpily than she had ever spoken to him before.

‘I love you so much, Mrs Weasley-’

Her heart melted in an instant, she tried very hard to hide her smile, continuing to hold out the pyjama top. ‘You need to get into bed, dear.’

‘I love this whole family-’

‘That’s very sweet, Harry,’ she said patiently.

‘Bes’ family in the world-'

‘All right…’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he slurred, and, though he was usually a very shy boy, he pulled his shirt off over his head, knocking his glasses half off in the process.

She looked politely away, but a few muttered swearwords made her look back, and, with a tut, she proceeded to help him untangle himself from the twisted shirt. ‘Hold still - this arm this way- that’s it-’

She had never realised just how covered in scars he was. On his chest, his arm…

The shirt fell to the floor, and she caught his glasses as they tumbled off his ear, and set them on the windowsill. When she turned back, he had one arm in the pyjama shirt, but was missing the other arm and twisting dramatically to try and get at it.

‘Silly boy, here you are,’ she said, helping him, and he started telling her thank you, over and over and over again. When it came to the pyjama bottoms, he seemed to realise that she was there, and gain a sense of shame, and he loudly asked her to turn away and not look, but when she went to the door to leave him to it, he shouted again.

‘No - no wait - Mrs Weasley don’t go, just don’t look - hang on-’

Finally, after the sounds of heavy, staggering hopping and a few more muttered swear words, she said, ‘can I look now?’ and he mumbled an agreement.

‘Oh, no, where are are my glasses?’ he asked, as she guided him to the bed. He sounded very worried.

‘They’re on the windowsill, and look-’ She pointed her wand at the bedside table, and a large jug of water and a glass appeared. ‘You’ve got water, and in a few hours you’ll have some food too, you just need to sleep some of this off. All right, dear?’

He collapsed heavily onto the bed. ‘You’re like the mum I never had,’ he mumbled into the mattress. ‘Mrs Weasley. My aunt never was this kind. Wish I’d been here all ‘long.’

She swallowed, and perched on the bed beside him, and reached out to brusy back his messy hair. ‘I wish you had too,’ she said quietly. ‘But you’re part of the family now, aren’t you? For good. I love you too, we all do.’

'I'm sorry,' he whispered suddenly, rolling onto his side with what must have been considerable effort.

'It's all right, you're just a bit drunk, you know I play the grumpy Mum act up a bit.'

'No. I… I’m sorry for everything I put you and your family through.'

She placed her hand against his face, and looked into his bright eyes. ‘I’d do it all again,’ she told him. ‘In a heartbeat.’

‘Would you?’ he asked quietly. ‘If you knew? If you knew everything that would happen?’

‘I absolutely would still talk to the little boy alone in Kings Cross,’ she said firmly. ‘In fact, I think I would probably go looking for him.’

His eyelids drooped, he sighed heavily. ‘Kings Cross… Thank you.’

Within seconds, she was sure that he was asleep, gone to the world, utterly unwakeable. She smiled, kissed him on the temple, and left the room. From the sounds of it, Arthur was still arguing with George about beans on toast.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #canon fest platonic #submission #tw: mild language #tw: heavy alcohol consumption

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

“Berliner Fernsehturm” * Foto: BernardoUPloud

After her marriage with Frank Randall has failed and Claire Beauchamp flees from her violent husband, she finds refuge in the house of the Fraser/Murray family in Berlin-Wilhelmshorst. But then tensions arise between Britain (which has since left the EU) and some EU member states. All holders of an English passport are required to leave EU territory within six weeks … and suddenly Claire’s fate looks more uncertain than ever.

This story was written for the #14DaysofOutlander event, hosted by @scotsmanandsassenach​

Chapter 11: 14 Men (7)

     "I hope you know that you are very welcome, not only because you are giving us this information or as a medical professional, but as a human being. And I hope you'll be able to settle in."

    Claire nodded. Then she reached out her hand and put it on the old man's right hand.

    "Thank you, Mr. Groide. I appreciate it."

    "You can call me Ferdinand, if you like."

    "Sure, Ferdinand, I'm Claire."

    "Thanks, Claire."

    "Well, after that eventful work meeting, let's have a nice drink, shall we? How about a whisky?"

    Jamie looked at them expectantly.

    Claire nodded.

    "I'd love one."

    Groide shook his head.

    "Jamie, you know I don't drink that stuff. I'll have a vodka, please."

    "You see Claire," said Jamie with an ironic undertone, "you might as well learn something about the Germans here. When it comes to alcohol, they have no taste."

    He handed her a glass of whisky.

    "He's right, Claire. And remember one more thing: We have absolutely no sense of humor either."

    The men began to giggle and Jamie had to stop for a moment before he handed the glass of vodka to Groide.

    "You may say what you usually say about my taste in alcohol, Jamie," Groide then said jokingly.

    Jamie looked at Claire with a grin.

    "He spent too much time with Russians, they spoiled his taste."

    "Sa sdarovje!" was all Groide would answer. Then he turned to Claire again:

    "You said earlier that you intend to ask for a divorce from your husband?"

    "Yes, I do. I hope it's also possible from here."

    Groide looked at her thoughtfully.

    "Do you object to Claire's request, Ferdinand?"

    "No, I understand the request very well. I'm just worried it might put MI5 on to you, Jamie."

    A mild shock drove Claire through and she nearly choked on the whisky she'd just taken.

“Whisky” by PublicDomainPictures

        "I think there's a way we can avoid this. Ever since Claire spoke of filing for divorce, I've been thinking about who could help her."

        "Well? Who did you have in mind?" Groide asked.

        "I have come to the conclusion that I would recommend the service of Stephanie Svart to her," Jamie replied and turned to Claire.

        "She is an excellent specialist family law attorney and the law firm she works for has offices in several Western European countries. I don't know 100%, but I would be very much mistaken if they didn't also have cooperation with American law firms. They could try to do it through their Amsterdam office ... That would move the focus away from Berlin and into one of the countries that is currently in a very tense relationship with the UK ... I don't think they would send anyone there because of the marital disputes of an MI5 employee like Randall. If you add to that the fact that Claire fears repression from her violent husband, you don't even have to give a home address. You can use the address at the law firm."

        Groide nodded smiling and held his empty glass out to Jamie.

        "Well thought out."

        "Who is this lawyer?" Claire asked.

        "We've known her a long time. My Uncle Jared had a girlfriend here in Berlin, or rather, a fiancée. Her name is Violetta Chambeau. They were supposed to get married, but then my uncle's illness came along and his death ... But 'Aunt Vio' is still family. She's the one trough whom my uncle met Stephanie Svart. They both studied at the same university. Mrs. Svart is a specialist in family and inheritance law. We trust her, and if you don't mind, then..."

        "Well, I don't know any lawyers here, and if she's trustworthy... no, I don't mind if you make contact."

        "I've already made an appointment with her, just in case. We could meet her tomorrow morning."

        Claire nodded.

        "The sooner I get this over with, the better."

        She reached for her whisky and took a big sip.

        "What do you think, Ferdinand?"

        "I think it's a good idea."

        Suddenly, there was a knock at the library door. Jamie shouted, "Come in!" and Helene Ballin appeared.

        "Mr. Groide, out of your jacket in the hall there comes the sound of a bell. I assume it's your smartphone?"

        Groide jumped up and hurried out of the room.

“Smartphone” by niekverlaan

        About ten minutes later, he came back.

        "Excuse me, but this call was important."

        The old man sat down, then he looked at Jamie with a serious look:

        "A Carl from Boston called the office at ‘In Vino Veritas’ and asked to speak to you..."

        Now Jamie and Claire looked at him in shock.

        "I've convinced him that I'm a good friend of yours and that he can talk to me too."

        "What did he say?" Jamie asked, his voice giving way his tension.

        "He said a man named Randall called the hotel limo service and asked for a specific car..."

        Claire's face changed color in one fell swoop. Completely pale and with eyes filled with fear she looked at Jamie. The mention of Randall's name, and even more so the fact that he was obviously picking up her trail, had brought fear back into her life within seconds.

        "What happened? What did he say?" Jamie asked.

        "They put Randall's call through to Carl because they knew he was your driver. Carl told Randall, that he drove you to his home, as Randall already knew, and then to the Boston mariana.”

        Jamie and Claire looked at each other first and then at Groide.

        "The marina?" Claire asked incredulously.

        "Yes, Carl felt that it was none of this man's business where he took you. He didn’t know him and he felt his passengers had a right to discretion. That's why he told Randall that he drove you to the quay next to the ‘Yacht Haven Inn & Mariana’. There, he said, you boarded a large yacht. This yacht arrived at the quay at the same time as the limousine and left immediately after both of you went on board. Randall asked him if he had seen the name of the yacht or if he could remember the flag. Carl replied that he had not paid attention to it. But he assumed that it was a private yacht.

        Claire closed her eyes. Her body relaxed, if only slowly. Jamie smiled. Groide remained silent for a few moments. He knew that the two people sitting in front of him would have to digest this shock first. Then Jamie stood up and filled the glasses with whisky and vodka again. After they had drunk in silence, Groide resumed the conversation:

        "Well, that went well once again. At least that's how it looks at the moment. But it's not impossible that Randall recognized you, Jamie. So, for the time being, you won't be taking any assignments outside of Europe... who do you suggest as a replacement?"

        "The best man we have. My adopted son."

        "When will he be ready?"

        "I'll call him in the morning and get back to you first thing."

        "Well, I hope he agrees to take over your duties."

“Tür” by CJ

         When Claire and Jamie got off the elevator an hour later and walked down the hall to their rooms, she asked, whispering:

        "Does your comment about Ferdinand's relationship with the Russians have any deeper meaning?"

        "You mean, if Ferdinand really was involved with Russians?"

        "Hm hm."

        "I don't know, it's a joke between us. Ever since I first met him, I've tried drinking whisky with him. But he always refused, and so far he's stuck to vodka. But I wouldn't be surprised if he had dealings with Russians as part of his service. As far as I know, he came to Berlin to study. That must have been a little over 40 years ago. So it was still the Cold War period."

        They had stopped at the door of Claire's room.

        "Don't worry, Jamie, I'm not here to question you."

        "Oh, I don't think that's top secret information."

        He looked at her and his eyes got caught on her dress.

        "Claire..."

        "Yeah?"

        "What you did tonight... it was remarkable. So much acumen, intelligence. It will have... certainly... taken a lot of strength from you. And tomorrow will be no less exhausting... will you be able to sleep? Is there anything else I can do for you?”

        "Thank you, but I think I’m fine.”

        "If there's anything else... I'll be right here.”

        He pointed to the door of his room.

        "I'll leave the phone on, just in case.”

        "Thanks, Jamie. You're very kind. Good night."

        "Good night, Claire."

        She opened the door and entered her room. When she had closed the door behind her, she held her hand on the door leaf for a moment, as if she could still maintain contact with Jamie in this way. This man touched something inside her. Something that was buried deep under years of neglect, harshness and unkindness that she had experienced through Frank Randall. For the first time since the death of her Uncle Lambert, she felt that someone else really cared about her. Claire went to her bed, pulled out her pyjamas from under her pillow and changed. Then she went to the small desk that stood under one of the windows and turned on the small lamp that was placed  at the right side. From one of her suitcases she took a diary. She sat down at the desk and began to make notes about the evening and about the conversation with Ferdinand Groide. An hour later, Claire closed the book and put it back into the suitcase. She sat down on the bed and reached for her handbag, which she had left on the nightstand. Claire opened it and pulled a zipper attached to the lining. Another zipper was attached to the bottom of this inner bag. When one opened it, you entered a compartment that was hidden in the bottom of the handbag and not visible from the outside. Claire reached into this compartment and then looked thoughtfully at the six silver USB flash drives on her hand. What had Frank once said? You can't let all your cards go at once. She had agreed with Frank only on a few things, but on this point she had to agree with him. Slowly she put the USB flash drives back and closed the handbag. After she had freshened up a bit in the bathroom and put a big glass of mineral water on the bedside table, she lay down and turned off the light. Claire looked up at the ridge of the roof. Through the glass she could see the night sky. She wondered if Jamie was now lying in his bed and looking up there as well. With this thought she fell asleep.

#14DaysofOutlander #Outlander #Outlander Fan Fiction #From Boston to Berlin in 14 Hours #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Ian Murray #Jenny Murray #Frank Randall #Boston #Berlin #Germany #Modern AU

[minerva-guilliman]

The study was dark, the soft glow of the desk-lamp illuminating the numerous data slates and tomes he had acquired. Although what he was given was told to be only an introductory and incomplete accounting of the 10,000 years that have passed since the crusade. The Logos Historica Verita had only begun on their great work, and here Daurion Farax is, searching by the scraps between redacted and inaccurate accounts that reek of sacred propaganda.  He scratches at his head, scowling as he read through another such text, glasses slowly slipping off his nose, only to return to its place by his intervention, a chronic push back up the bridge. His autoquill continued to mark out sentences and paragraphs with questions, notes, and even pointing out blatant contradictions. At least he was, until the dataslate pinged in warning, earning a heavy groan from the remembrancer’s lips.  “Blasted modern dataslates. Barely any memory in this damned thing. 10th one I’ve filled today.” He idly picks it up, and just tosses it onto the pile of others he’s completed. “At least they don’t break easily.” Sighing, he leans back on his chair, rubbing his eyes. He was tired. First the outbreak of the Heresy....the anchorage at Macragge....the flight to Terra...and now the duty to stitch back an Imperium that has been in decline for 10,000 years, only has now been literally torn asunder. There had been no rest, and while an Astartes would be able to handle such stress...he was only mortal. His world and understanding of it has never stopped shaking since. All he could do was press on. Its all he can do. He leans back up, ready to pick up a new dataslate, gratefully provided by the Logos Historica, when his eye took notice of something. Among his shelves in his room, the dim light reflected off a sheet of some sort. With a strained effort, he got up from his chair, and approached it. He pulled it out, and brought it into the light.  In it he found a reflection of his own face, but younger. Bright and beaming. With him were others like him, remembrancers bound to other fleets, likewise full of inspiration and hope. Curse his memory....he could recall them all. Lonn....then of the 3rd Legion before her transfer to the 19th, always fitting in wherever she goes. Gwill, of the 10th, similarly stoic as their kin. And of course, the brilliant Wirai, bound to the Custodes themselves, who composed this piece.  His muscles tensed at their memory.....at their fate unknown to him still. Did they perish during the war? Did they die later, in bed, aware of the path humanity was taking? Did they have hope that the Imperium could return? Did it still  even seem possible back then? He walks over back to the desk, gently laying the pict against one of the stack of books. Then he continues over, to the pile of dataslates, and begins to organize them more properly into some of the empty spots on the shelves. He then returned to the desk, new dataslate in hand, and let out a deep breath, readying himself.  He knows that he brethren would have continued to do their work as well as they could. In war or decline. It is very lonely in the 42nd millennium, without the company of such brilliant souls as those theirs, but the task is set. The duty must be obligated. Whatever this poor Remembrancer can do, as minimal as it may be, must be done.  The Remembrancer Order has not died until he’s breath his last. Even if its over these damned atrocious tomes.

#Remembrancer #perhaps a return? #Daurion Farax.

[rinadoesstuff]

Secret Soldiers

While Maggie has to live being another punching bag of Sobel, Claire has to face a talk she hoped never to have since her arrival in Dresden.

Chapter Eleven

After the whole of Easy company finished their run up Currahee, they all lined up as they did every single day, It was routine for the company at that moment in time - run, line up, get berated and shower. Maggie, amongst probably all of the men, hated being lined up after running. They were tired, they were dirty and they were frustrated by their CO. As they stood at attention in front of Sobel, Maggie stood beside Lieutenant Winters, only Easy companies breathing could be heard.

Sobel was quiet, walking up and down as if he was a cat stalking a mouse. It wasn’t long before he stopped and turned to face Easy company, eyes narrowing as they settled on Maggie. “Lieutenant Walters.”

“Yes, sir?” Maggie knew what was coming, the whole company did. They weren’t stupid, they had all seen Sobel picking on Maggie since the moment she arrived. Whilst many found it funny to begin with, the realisation that they could head to war at any moment had hit a lot of the men. It wasn’t as funny anymore, they needed someone that was competent and knew what they were doing - many of the men realised that Maggie was that person. 

“You have constantly disobeyed orders, making a mockery out of my company. You are to be on latrine duty and until I am satisfied you are not to return to your lodgings.” Maggie wasn’t even mad, she was tired and upset. She had been sweating all day, her body ached and she needed a shower more than anything. It took everything within Maggie not to cry, to not break down and quit right there. 

It wasn’t as if she had anyone to talk to about it either, Camilla off base on another assignment for a few weeks - Maggie didn’t blame her for wanting to go but she did resent the red haired woman slightly for leaving her. “Yes, Sir.” 

Once dismissed, Maggie obediently trudged to the supply cupboard with all the supplies in for the latrines. She knew that she just had to get it over with, knowing that Sobel would be around soon enough to make sure that it was done. After collecting the things she needed, Maggie was startled by the presence of another soldier behind her. He smiled gently, guilt hidden in his eyes as he saluted Maggie. 

Smile on her face, Maggie saluted and allowed the private to relax. “Sorry Lieutenant, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just wondering if you wanted a hand with the latrines.” He paused for a moment, quickly backpedaling. “Not that you’re not capable, uh, I mean I just-”

Maggie let out a small laugh. “Private,” She paused, trying to recall his name. “Grant, it’s okay.” When the man didn’t correct her, she let out a small sigh of relief subtly. “Thank you for the offer but, go get a shower and get some food. We both know that Sobel would have your head if he caught you.”

Both laughing gently, Grant bid the Lieutenant goodbye and made his way to his own barracks. Maggie was too tired to realise that it was strange - first Luz and Guarnere, now Grant. Letting out a small yawn, Maggie took a breath and entered the latrines.

Dresden, November 1942

The tension in the room was unbearable as Claire sat at the kitchen table. The dim light the lamp above her head provided, was barely bright enough to light up the small kitchen. The walls of the room felt so close to her almost suffocating.

Tapping her fingers down at the sturdy wood did only little to calm her nerves as she tried to find the right words. Claire got what she wanted. She found out what had made Hans so nervous but now that she had to confront him about what happened a little over an hour ago on the dark road, right next to a Wehrmacht truck, she regretted following him. But maybe that’s what she deserves for using him like this. For using him to have a good stay in Germany.

“We both have secrets.”

She wouldn’t be having this conversation if she stayed in France together with Andreé and Lise. 

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Claire turned her full attention to the man sitting across from her. Her plan was to not show weakness during this conversation but as soon as her eyes met with the regret filled eyes of Hans, her facade crumbled. She wanted to reach out and take his hand in hers to calm him the same way she did in their childhood. She wanted to tell him that everything was going to be fine but deep down Claire knew that it wasn’t that easy.

“Hans, I want to trust you, I really do but I need to know what you are doing.”

She felt like a hypocrite asking him like this as if she was innocent. Seeing him and Viktor stealing Wehrmacht gear in the middle of the night while the driver was probably taking a break was enough for her to figure it out but she had to hear it from him.

The man in front of her swallowed hard and leaned forward. “I’ll tell you what we are doing under the circumstances that you explain this.” Hans reached over to Claire’s side of the table and tapped his finger a few times on the welrod pistol which laid in front of the woman.

With a simple nod Claire accepted his condition. It wasn’t what she wanted but he deserves to know the truth about her. She just hoped that there won’t be any big consequences.

“Alright, so, uhm,” Hans started, obviously unsure of what to say. “Viktor and I are stealing Wehrmacht, SS and SA equipment on a regular basis. Just enough to have them not realize it and we overpaint swastikas as much as often as we can. Ilse gives us an alibi if anyone asks.”

“You three are risking your life for this, you know?” 

“We know the risk but something has to be done, Clara. We can’t stand by while innocent lives are lost in this useless war.” Hans reached out and laid his hand on top of Claire’s. He wasn’t sure if it’s because he wanted to keep her at the table, out of fear of her walking away or simply to give her a feeling of trust. That she can be honest with him and that he trusts her enough to reveal something like this.

Taking the following silence from Hans’ side as a clue, Claire straightened her back a bit and wiped with her thumb over her friend's knuckles, a soft smile on her lips. “You have to promise me not to talk with anyone about what I’m about to tell you.”

Hans nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“I’m working for the special operations executive, or SOE for short, as a spy. My job is to keep an eye on the people, to cause a bit of trouble for the Nazis and of course to steal information.” Claire swallowed hard as she averted Hans’ eyes. From the promise she made herself about staying strong was no sign anymore. She could practically feel her best friend staring at her in disbelief but the almost childlike smile that was on his lips was still unbeknown to her.

“You are a spy? As in a spy, spy?“ Hans asked with excitement in his voice Claire still recognized from their childhood. In confusion she raised her head only to be met by pure and utter excitement. Before she had the chance to answer him, Hans started again. “So you had real training? Do you have any secret weapons? You actually know what you are doing? Holy shit I can’t believe it.”

Claire couldn’t help herself but let out a soft laugh. She expected him to be mad, to kick her out for bringing his life into danger along with hers but instead she was met with nothing but excitement.  “Aren’t you mad?”

“Mad? Clara, are you serious? I was just told that my best friend is a spy. There is nothing cooler than that! Do you have a codename or something? Sorry I’m talking too much aren’t I?”

Claire nodded as a response. “To all of your questions: Yes. My codename is Veritas. It is latin for truth. Since you know, I’m here to find out the truth behind the Nazis and all.”

“Alright so uhm, I have one last question.” Hans reached out and took Claire’s other hand into his just as well.

“Shoot.”

“I still have to talk with Ilse and Vik about this but would you join us?”

Claire swallowed hard. It would be good to have people she could rely on and now that Hans knew the truth there wasn’t much more to lose. “Under the condition that when I help you guys, I want to be able to trust you with helping me doing my job.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.”

• • • • • •

Taglist:

 @wexhappyxfew @immrsronaldspeirs @trashgoddess600 @junojelli @kmorecoffee @vintagelavenderskies @order-of-river-phoenix @adamantiumdragonfly @happyveday @alrightnicelighter @easy-company-tradition @keoghans @jamie506101 @ultralillylove @pxpeyewynn @pinkesfaultier @madstertb

#band of brothers #band of brothers oc #band of brothers fanfic #fanfiction #historical fanfiction #alternate history #secret soldiers #claire harding #maggie walters #hans müller #easy company

[jasmine-cottage-uk]

Trope mash up: 7. Florist AU  and 77. In Vino Veritas :D

A. J. Crowley is a florist and floral designer at London’s most sought after floral studio. Mercurial and exacting, he charges exorbitantly for his services, which means he is the only legitimate choice for the events on offer for the cream of London society.

He’s delivering a massive order to the Abbey of St. Arthur, the only church where society darlings would even consider getting married in all of the greater London area, when he encounters the vicar, Reverend Ezra Fell, who insists on helping, who is so accommodating that Crowley feels like he’s turned up at the wrong place. Aren’t priests supposed to be snippy about you walking all over the alter and getting rose petals everywhere? In spite of Crowley’s short temper, and Fell’s general dottiness, the two become friendly. Friends, even, perhaps, but Crowley doesn’t do friends so maybe not.

Of course, it’s not the last wedding that Crowley dresses at the Abbey, and after a particularly grueling set up, where the bride screamed that she wanted cream roses - “Cream! Not eggshell! Not bloody white fucking roses! Do you know what we’re paying you? I can’t believe this! It’s ruined!” - and some prat in a Range Rover backed into Crowley’s delivery van parked out front, Reverend Fell asks if he wouldn’t like a drink, just to take the edge off perhaps.

And in Ezra’s cramped little office, shelves crammed with theological books and church registers, they polish off a decent bottle of red. Then another. Where is Ezra keeping this stuff anyway? And the desk lamp the Reverend turns on reflects warmly on his white-blond hair. Almost like a halo? No, Crowley’s drunk and seeing things. It’s all blurry. And he can’t keep himself from talking talking talking.

“The thing is, the thing is... you think that doing this, making nice flowers for weddings or people in love -” Crowley sneers, downs his glass of wine. “- you think doing this is supposed to warm your heart or some stupid thing like that but it doesn’t. You see people fight and yell over the stupidest thing, and they cut me cheques for thirty-five thousand pounds for flowers that won’t last three days! Gone like that.” He tried to snap. His fingers don’t work. “So it’s miserable, right? It’s miserable and you start to hate, just sodding everyone. I hate everyone. I mean, not you though.”

Ezra looks up from his glass, stunned, eyes searching. Not disgusted though. Not scared or put off.

“I really like you.” Crowley chokes, wishing his glass were full.

A blush rises in Ezra’s cheeks. “Oh, Crowley. I like you too. So much.”

#ask #spunknbite #shortfic #accidental shortfic #this is... not bad #just tooting my own horn

[friendshipcampaign]

Session Recap 6/30/19: Stormcrows and Swords

When the party all awoke that morning, there were messages waiting for them from the Gatekeepers in the Infinite Library. 

Kriv, who had asked about the Three of Eyes and the DPL, received a message from Hubris that read:

theyre a nasty piece of work. most demon cultists are seeking power or influence, even if theyve decided the best way to accomplish that is bloody destruction. but the three of eyes seek nothing less than the total domination of the abyss over the prime material plane and everything it touches. they dont worship one of the lords. they worship the abyss itself. weve always been able to stop them because theyre inherently unstable semicolon the most revered members are those so fluent in abyssal that they have experienced the third dark letter, enabling them to hear the whispers of the abyss unfiltered. But no mortal mind or body can withstand that for long, so theyre more likely to go out in a blaze of demonic glory than to hatch any real longterm plans. lucky for us exclamation point. keep your eyes open. 

heard from a and p that youre in veritas. the cult is most likely trying to take advantage of the instability from the breach to open a new portal. theyd need some powerful demons for that, or an alkilith that hastens the formation of abyssal breaches. well be watching for problems in the area, but theres enough residual abyssal energy that its hard to get a clear picture. re the goddess, ill do some digging. im familiar with the symbolism but not whether the deity has been identified. 

re the dpl. weve met them. they like alembic. they dont like me at all exclamation point. better to avoid them unless theres an emergency. 

best, hubris

Erwyn had asked Alembic and Palava about their experiences in Veritas the months prior and also received a message back, reading:

dear erwyn, 

we are always happy to help how we can. the breach in veritas was to an uncatalogued layer of the abyss. so, on the one hand, we can only tell you what we saw, but on the other hand what we saw is as much as anyone knows.

the creature that came through was vast and amorphous, not really an ooze but something like a huge, growing slab of purplish muscle. it gave off a poison that made anyone exposed to it laugh uncontrollably. if theres any of that still around remember that it is a poison, not a magical effect, so be smarter than me and invest in a mask. 

the weird thing about this creature, and the one that makes it particularly dangerous to the prime material plane, is that it could grow more demons. At first we thought there were reinforcements coming through the portal, but they kept showing up even after alembic closed the breach, and then we found some that were halfformed, embedded in strange growths in its body. those new demons always grew in circles around a clear pod where it held some person or animal it had trapped, and it seemed to be using its captives as some kind of inspiration. the demons it grew from them were a similar size and shape. its possible it needed living captives. when we broke the clear pods the people inside were all right as long as there was healing on hand, so we saved a dozen or so humanoids and a dog. 

now, we did our level best to wipe it out for good. couldnt see hide nor hair of it when we were done, and the demonology prevention league was planning on keeping watch on the area in case it found a way to come back. at this point were most concerned about some cultist locating the layer and summoning themselves an endless supply of demons so were all trying to keep the details under wraps. i wouldnt be unduly worried, but do keep your eyes out and let us know if you find anything stranger than expected. 

be careful and stay in touch, 

alembic and palava

And finally, Ditto, who had asked a more complex question, received back:

i will look exclamation point. nothing that is immediately accessible but thats what research is for exclamation point exclamation point exclamation point. 

cheerio, 

hubris

To start out their investigations for the day, the group followed Tiktik to the place they had seen the demon disappear inside the previous night. The building was on Needle Row, where the tailors’ and cloth merchants’ shops were, but was itself a boarded-up warehouse. There was a shop next to it, however, which the group decided to check out to see if they could notice anything odd. They entered on the pretense that Amaranth needed her coat repaired a bit and Voski suggested checking out the “finer” wares along the walls -- though it took Erwyn a second to catch on to her actual meaning and she had to steer him gently inside. 

The tailor who owned the place was a half-orc with two assistants, a halfling and a goblin. He became very engaged talking to Amaranth about her coat repair. Voski also took the opportunity to scout out some nice prints, for inspiration. With the tailor occupied, Erwyn approached the wall nearest the warehouse on the other side and cast Detect Magic -- but it set off one of his Wild Magic surges, causing a swarm of dusky blue butterflies with silver eyes to manifest inside the store.

The goblin assistant muttered under her breath and Kriv apologized, recognizing the word for “adventurer.”

Some of the party and the shop workers both attempted to shoo the butterflies out the door. After a minute though, they all vanished. While Erwyn was mortified, he stayed silent, hoping to still glean some information from his spell. He managed to detect both faint Abjuration and Divination spells from the other side of the wall, as well as a magical effect on one of the tailor’s needles. 

Once she noted Erwyn had finished his investigation, Amaranth swiftly told the tailor they were late for a thing and had to run, taking her coat with her. The party all shuffled outside and Erwyn explained what he had noticed.

The party next headed to the address Amaranth had been given by the orc woman she’d spoken to at the bar the night before, hoping to get a glimpse of the Obsidian Shard drop point. It seemed to be a laundry, which was in line with the instructions Amaranth had been given about dropping off something needing mending to contact them. She also noted a beggar’s mark that signified the place as off-limits for thieves, and an unfamiliar narrow diamond shape drawn in black. Unable to spot any unusual activity in the area at this time, the party moved along.

As they headed towards the office of the private investigator Squall had hired previously, it became clear they were entering the poorer part of town. The building itself was very run-down, with a big sign out front that read “Eckjeth Investigations” and an oil lamp visible inside. Eckjeth poked her head out to greet them. She was a half-elf with pointy face and twitchy ears, whose hair was braided in a faux-elven style that had clearly been done about three days ago. She let them inside and revealed an office with cases of showy books covered in dust, and boxes packed full of tinctures that were shoved to the sides in an attempt to make them less obvious.

She invited the party to sit, but most of them refrained. Amaranth pulled a chair over and turned it around, sitting on it backwards. Ditto sat on the desk. Before getting into the conversation, Eckjeth poured herself a drink and added one of the tinctures to it, looking genuinely relieved as she did so. She asked what they were here for and seemed annoyed when they said they were looking for Quest, snapping that missing persons cases were a lesson in futility in Veritas right now. She admitted that when she’d gone to the Stormcrows they couldn’t confirm that Quest was dead, since Eckjeth didn’t know her personally, but it seemed clear that this was her assumption. 

Interestingly, the case seemed to be less on Eckjeth’s mind than other things. She looked to be extremely stressed and tired. When the group asked about this she admitted her desire to get out of the city, since it seemed like there was nothing the common people of the city could do about the Abyssal influences lingering since the incursion. Voski then asked her about the tincture she’d put in her drink and Eckjeth stiffened -- it seemed she had a sort of love-hate relationship with the things.

Eckjeth told the group that the tinctures had been brought to the city by a wealthy philanthropist named Karin Mordechai, who would come to the city sometimes and do spontaneous demonstrations, professing their virtues and how they could keep the public safe from the effects of the breach. Eckjeth said she was based somewhere east of Veritas, so while she rented a place in the city during her visits she wasn’t around often, and would sometimes teleport in thanks to a wizard in her employ. Apparently Karin was also planning on attending the upcoming Guildhall Gala, though she had managed to receive special dispensation privileges from the guilds so that people selling the tinctures didn’t need memberships to operate.

When asked what the tinctures were made out of, Eckjeth informed the party they were made outside of the city, since Veritas was too “unstable,” out of materials straight from the elemental planes. Kriv asked if she had been feeling alright and if he could cast a spell to check up on her and she agreed. When he cast Detect Poison and Disease, he picked up on something similar to what he’d detected on Clarity the other night. Eckjeth tried to pitch the tinctures to them and Erwyn tentatively bought one of them, hoping to investigate it later. Eckjeth also gave the party her investigation notes, which started out more organized and grew increasingly more scrawled. 

The detective also let them know about a member of the lamplighter’s guild, Deveron Wick, who had been at the guildhouse the night of Quest’s disappearance and said he had seen her briefly, but had offered no additional information. Additionally, she shared her notes on the outfit Quest had last worn as well as the blades she’d had on her -- a sort of “rescue” enchanted sword that was anxious around others, called Stív, and two fae daggers, one affiliated with fire and the other with ice, that could be used to find each other. Kriv offered Eckjeth a few gold as a tip for the information, subtly using Lay on Hands to heal a bit her as he handed them over.

Deciding to talk to the Stormcrows next, the party headed to the temporary temple to the Raven Queen set up near the exclusion zone. When they arrived, one of the raven-masked clerics was talking to a member of the city watch outside, saying they hadn’t been expecting difficulties today. An acolyte greeted them inside, but Erwyn and Voski both noted a lock on the door leading to the morgue that had apparently been blasted open, and what seemed to be signs of some kind of magical altercation.

When Voski inquired about what had happened, the acolyte explained that there had been an incident -- though they assured the group it hadn’t involved necromancy. They quickly switched subjects to ask the group what they were here for, and Amaranth asked if they could confirm whether or not Quest was still alive. When she said she was asking as a friend, the acolyte lead them to a back chamber. Sitting inside was a kenku with magpie plumage, who also wore a leather raven mask and a small, black leather crown. Her mask reached over her beak and seemed to have buckles that could close it shut. The acolyte introduced her as Susurrus, the Crowned Crow.

After Amaranth described Quest, the crowned cleric lit a bowl of incense in front of her and breathed in the smoke before raising her head, waiting for a moment, extremely still. She then lowered it and turned to the acolyte who had brought them in, signing a message. The acolyte informed the party that she said no one of Quest’s description had passed through the Astral Plane yet. They clarified that this wasn’t a sure sign she was among the living, but still meant it was likely.

As they left the chamber, Ditto asked more about what had happened in the morgue. The acolyte, apparently too unnerved by the events to remain secretive a second time, answered her in a hushed whisper. They said a group of individuals had used Feign Death to disguise themselves as corpses to get into the morgue, then escaped with three bodies that the clerics had been told to keep safe using Gentle Repose so that the Watch could return to cast Speak With Dead and complete an interrogation. The watch and DPL were apparently both very upset about the situation.

“I hope you find your friend,” the acolyte told them in parting.

“Thank you. I hope you find your bodies!” Ditto replied.

Noting that the argument outside had increased in fervor, Ditto tucked herself behind Voski and started trying to cast a spell under her breath. Voski nudged her before she could finish and slightly shook her head, causing her to cease the casting. As the group started to head away there was further commotion as several DPL agents arrived on the scene. The party high-tailed it away.

As they passed the Obsidian Shard drop point again, Voski cast a Locate Object to see if there were any Three of Eyes pendants in the building. While there, Voski and Amaranth both noted a little spider-like construct scurrying along the street with a scroll held in a sling. When it was pointed out to the others, Erwyn wanted to follow it, but some of the others were hesitant. Voski suggested Tiktik trail it instead. Ditto was hesitant to ask them to follow a potentially dangerous stranger again so soon, but the familiar was willing and went after it. As Tiktik headed off, Ditto also tried casting Detect Thoughts to see if the spider-construct had any. It didn’t.

The party then headed to the home of Winstanus Albach, the customer who’d last bought a sword from Quest. Outside, a flying sword was attempting to cut the grass on the lawn -- though it was only broadly successful. Voski waved at it and it paused to wave back. When they knocked on the door, a number of interesting bumps and clattering noises followed from inside. Then an elderly human man with a huge mustache answered the door, holding a number of leashes which each had a flying sword at the end, and scolded several of the more active ones by name for being rude to company.

When the party explained they were here to speak with him, Winstanus invited them all in, explaining he would put the swords in his “gladiary” -- a word he devised by combining the Celestial “Gladius” and the Common “aviary” -- for their safety. He then lead them to a nice sitting room, which was finely furnished but clearly had many sewn- and patched-up gashes. He offered them all biscuits on plates with little paintings of swords on them, and seemed sad to hear that Quest was still missing. Apparently he was a go-to for her when she had flying swords with slight behavioral issues, as he was an avid collector and didn’t mind their quirks. He was doubly concerned for her well-being because he also had arrangements with her to help find his swords good homes when he passed on.

The last sword he had purchased from her was from the Faewilds -- a long, leaf-shaped mithril one with vine patterns on the blade and metal and crystal flowers on the hilt that struggled a little on its leash as he fetched it. Apparently it had once been a part of an entire flock, but the swords were let go and Quest, who specialized in fae artifacts, had found it running feral. He also said it emitted faint sunlight at all times, and he hadn’t yet thought of a proper name for it. Erwyn asked if he could handle the sword, curious, and Winstanus warned him to watch his fingers, though also noted that as he was an elf the fae blade might receive him a little more kindly. Erwyn carefully examined the sword and noted a Sylvan inscription on it that read, “I and my sisters guard the third court.”

Ditto asked Winstanus if anyone had bothered him recently looking for information on swords. He said a blacksmith named Filigree Black had stopped by before the Abyssal incursion happened, interested in learning about historical smithing techniques, but that was all. In the meantime, Amaranth tried petting a little geriatric dagger floating near her, but accidentally bonked it into the table. It scurried fearfully behind Winstanus. She apologetically held out one of her own daggers for it to investigate.

Winstanus then told the group about the Veritas Amateur Historians Society, which he was a member of, though he mentioned it hadn’t had regular meetings for a while. He gave them the name of the organizer, a dragonborn named Lomik Turnuroth, who was the head of staff at the Zisisvoyni mansion uptown. He also mentioned that both Squall and Eckjeth had stopped by to speak with him about Quest, as well as some of the Watch, though their investigation had seemed half-hearted.

Towards the end of their visit, Amaranth told Winstanus that she’d bought her own sword from Quest, and he congratulated her on the purchase. He delightedly talked swords with her for a bit, and the shy dagger from earlier finally grew interested in her and wandered over, now less afraid.

#session recap