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autumnvine · 1 month

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Fresh Start

Summary- A fresh start, new beginnings, running away from everything that happened before. Running into to something new and wonderful.

⚠️ Warning past traumatic relationship, abusive relationship (Obviously not Tom)⚠️

Here you were, your new life, a fresh start, well was supossed to be. Coming off the coach suitcase handed to you by the driver, 6hour drive from one side of the country to the middle. From Kent to London. "London" ,lips smiling side to side. "I'm home I guess"

You knew noone, didn't know where you were, just were you had to be, dragging the overly large suitcase to the taxi rank, securing a taxi to take you to Oxfordshire.

gazing out the backseat findow watching the red busses, the people, seeing some of the high street, the tall buildings

"Staying long?" the taxi driver brought you from your daze

"I'm Sorry?"

"The suitcase is quite large, are you staying long?"

"Oh Apologies yes I plan to be here a while"

"The accent where you from?"

"From Kent, the bottom of England"

"Why are you here? Family? Friends? Hiding?"

"What no I'm not hiding why?"

"It was a joke, sorry"

"I'm here on business actually, I plan to be here, do my job, leave"

The long drive quickly became awkward, uncomfortable even. Noone knew why you were here, a select few even, noone should know, don't speak of it, not a word. repeating in your mind over and over.

The taxi came to a stop, paying what you owed you collected your suitcase and left. Scared. Alone. Rather lost you wandered up and down different streets, finding a beautiful garden "Florence Park" benches upon benches, families cycling, throwing a frizbee back and fourth, rose bushes, glorious trees surrounding the entire park, parents pushing prams and lunch, you were so hungry, and so very glad to see a snack van.

"What you want love?"

"Cheese and Pickle roll please? Thank you"

Maybe this could be your new home, what if you could call this place home, it is different, much bigger then your hometown, much, much bigger.

Eventually finding your new residency 74 Sheppards hill, standing outside admiring the building, white brick, cherry blossom tree in the front garden, very bad parking. Opening the front door a small quaint hallway, coatstand, shoe basket, welcome mat, yellow walls "That needs re-painting" the livingroom off the hallway was yellow, mathcing couch, horrid green rug "That needs a paint job too" following through the the dining room, "Beautiful table" yellow walls, green rug although slightly smaller then the last, the kitchen yellow walls, nice stove, fully functioning. Running upstairs to the bedroom, yellow walls, cream carpet "Looks new" double bed, nice view of the street, bedroom beside the same. Unpacking your clothes to the wardrobe, placing your makeup and perfume along the window ledge, Laptop on the bed, case file stashed in the top drawer just incase.

A few weeks had gone by you still didn't know anyone, but at least you knew where to get a good cup of coffee and an even better cheese and pickle roll for lunch. Close by there was stores supplying milk, bread, local essentials. A short walk into a park where you spent most of your time running, you had gotten familiar with the route around the park, grabbing your coat off you went. Running. Headphones blasting music through your ears, drowing out all other noises, banishing the thoughts in your head, escaping your reality. You escaped everything.

After a laps of the park you gave in to the pain in your legs, sweat dripping off your back, hair going everywhere, laying on the grass was somewhat relaxing, just laying there looking at the sky, watching as the clouds rolled past one another. Feeling the sun shining on your face and the gentle breeze washing over you. It was tranquil. Maybe it wasn't so bad here. Laying there as time passed you by. Until something very heavy landed on you, pulling out your headphones rather startled quickly sitting up to find this small ball of fur laying over your legs, in the distance a man running over to the little puppy. The little fur ball caked in mud, just as you now were too, laying beside you, scratchig its ear, the man in the distance becoming closer and closer.

"Are you alright? did he knock you over?

Bad dog" leaning his hand out to you to help you up,

"I'm alright, no he, he didn't its okay"

"You're covered in mud, was that him? I'm so sorry"

"Don't worry its alright" you tried to keep your cool and not start blushing by the very kind, very handsome man a little taller then you. Stunning blue eyes you could get lost in, hair thick with curles. Tight white shirt, navy tie to match his trousers and blazer.

In all efforts trying to stop from blushing and becoming memorised, you didn't quite hear his question, he was looking at you, concerned,

"Oh pardon sorry, what did you ask me?"

"Are you sure your alright miss?"

"Yeah, uh yes I'm okay, I'm sorry" trying to hide your embarrassment

"No, you don't run into people then sit looking cute and loveable" said the man looking at his dog

"You're very cute and loveable" you spouted out, immediately catching the mans attention.

"The dog, um I meant.. I meant the dog sorry, I'm sorry I should go, I need to go, I am sorry. It wasn't your dog's fault I'm sorry, have a nice day I'm sorry"

You ran off, just kept running until you were home, wanting to charge your phone from the music, you must have compleately forgot to lift your phone off the grass beside you, disappearing in such a rush you didn't even think.

That man and his dog is all you thought about, dreamed about, created yourself a life with him in your head, letting your thoughts run wild. You didn't even ask his name. How silly just to run away like that.

After showering and getting cleaned up you began to re decorate your new home, rolling up the rugs for the charity shop, piling up the photos left from the previous owner, re arranging the kithcen cupboards to suit your liking.

It was now early evening, the house you walked into was so different now, sitting on the couch watching Gilmore girls from your Netflix acount, it had always made you laugh. A knock at the door draw your attention from the T.V. noone knew you were here, noone should know, what if it was someone from Kent? Someone from the life you ranaaway from? Worrying and panicking you slid down the sofa like a child hiding from the door, hearing the knocking again and someone "Hi I have something for you from the park I'm sorry" smiling as you recognised that voice, "Just a moment" You shouted back as you looked for your keys.

It was the man from the park, the handsome man who offered to help you,

"Hi, sorry i think you left your phone on the grass and there was no password, your address is in it I'm sorry I wasn't looking at anything I promise, just to return this to you."

Smiling you couldn't believe he had gone to all the trouble,

"Thank you, I'm y/n, do you want to come in?"

"I'm Tom, it's nice to meet you, I couldn't, you've just invited a perfect stranger into your home you know"

"Well Tom, a perfect stranger who offered to help me, and went to the trouble of returning my phone to my door, instead of keeping it or selling it, is rather trustworthy."

Tom took you up on the offer and came in

"I am sorry I've n been shopping yet, but I have milk and tea, would you like some tea?"

"That would be lovely thank you, you like yellow huh?"

"I just moved here, it was like that when I arrived, I do plan to redecorate, I just finished taking away the green rug to the charity earlier.

"Green?" he asked trying to hold his laughter

"It wasn't my pick, I was thinking of painting the walls a light grey colour and looking for a cream fluffy rug, some pink pillows, perhaps a coffee table"

"Don't you actually need to buy coffee first?" The two of you laughed and joked about Tom's quick sense of humour.

As the night contuined so did the conversation, hours went by, your stomach rumbled embarrassingly

"What do you like to eat? You're hungry, I'll order something over, don't worry i won't stay for dinner, but accept it as my appology fro Bobby landing on you earlier." Tom asked politly

"Thank you, please join me for dinner, I haven't spoken to someone for quite some time."

Nine months had gone by and your friendship with Tom had blossomed into something wonderful, there had been laughing, crying, paint spillages, copious amounts of food ordered, many times you had taken his little ball of fur to the park, who was not so little anymore. The two of you were really getting along. Tom was in the middle of helping you to pick the final touchings of your house. Carrying a massive stack of pink, white and grey pillows, with a vase under his arm for the living room, which now had a coffee table, as well as coffee in the kitchen cupboards. This had all come to gether so nicely, and very quickly with Tom's wonderful help.

You sat in bed that night thinking how your life had three sixtied itself, completely turning around, you brought out the case file from which you stashed the very first night there in the top dresser drawer. Having all the pages spread, almost covering the flower petals on the bed sheet completely. Seeing the trial notes for your ex-boyfriends coviction of aggraved assault. You hadn't thought of your old life in so long, noone knew, noone would understand. It wasn't your fault what happened yet somehow a part of you blamed yourself. Making a quick cup of tea on before falling asleep, throwing the papers on the floor

Making some bacon and fried eggs the following morning, waiting for Tom to appear at your door, he had mention he was off work this week and offered to come round and help you again. With breakfast ready on the table for him, he appeared at the door, A bouquett of golden sunflowers in hand

"You can't have an empty vase on your table dear" handing them to you his smile brighter then ever before

"Awh Tom there Beautiful thank you"

"Your Beautiful" kissing you before taking off his shoes. "Darling I've got somemore of your things in the boot of my car"

After breakfast you unpacked a fully loaded boot indeed, stuff for everywhere, decorative lights for the garden tree, hanging baskets for the front door, some throw blankets for around the house. "Y/n where do you want the dog bed? Also why did you buy a dog bed? You don't have a dog?"

"By the sofa please, because Bobby always ends up laying on the floor, he needs a bed too for when he comes over" Tom couldn't help but giggle that you had bought a bed for his dog, Tom hadn't even spent the nigh before, however Bobby had been a few times and fallen asleep on the stair case when he has been around for dinner.

"What about the pink blanket and the small bookshelf?" Tom shouted from the hall

"My bedroom please" you shouted back from the front door hanging the baskets at either side of the door.

Tom carried the small bookshelf and pink blanket draped over his arm up the stairs to your room, placing the shelf just by the dressing table and the blanket on your bed, accidentally knocking over a stack of papers with his feet he didnt see, bending down to pick them up it caught his attention, "aggravated assult" scanning his eyes worriedly over the papers in hand, reading the deails of you and what happened between what appeared to be an ex boyfriend. Realising that Tom was prying into something which was not his business he stacked the papers and left them on the dresser. Coming back down the stairs Tom wasn't sure how to act, should he bring it up? No best to leave it be he thought. Hearing a crash by the front door he say you laying with a broken plant pot smashed everywehre, flowers in your hair "Darling what happened?" he asked while offering you a hand up, "I was hanging the basket and there was a bee and I've never been stung so I was sartled a litlle and fell of the step and dropped it, I'm sorry"

Tom couldn't help but smile "A bee, you fell off the stairs from a bee?"

"Well, yes I've never been stung before and- why are you smiling?"

"You are so beautiful, you have flowers in your hair." Gently Tom lifted a strand of your hair tucking it behind your ear, kissing your neck , kissing just below your ear, on your collarbone, along toward your chest. Kissing you over and over. You jumped your legs and wrapped them around his waist, he carried you through to the couch tripping over almost everything in his path but not taking his eyes off you. You kissed him back everywhere possible.

That had never happened to you and Tom before, sure you had shared a kiss every time he left your house, or everytime you saw eachother, but never like that, never with such passion, never randomly out of nowhere. Tom left not long after having to take his cute little fur ball for a walk. Finishing the last few bits and tidying up, putting away the remaining items you could get comfy, get your laptop and your sweatpants, nice and cosy for the evening. Getting changed smiling at the blanket Tom put on the bed for you and the bookcase he had carried, all you did now was think about Tom, how he took care of you, how he helpd you, and how you were hiding this massive secret from him that you knew would either drive him away or break his heart for not telling him sooner. Turning toward the door you saw the stack of paper, not where you left them, thinking for a moment maybe you did put them there, "Tom, the blanket he know, oh goodness he knows, Why did he not mention anything, why didn't I tell him?" cursing yourself for not being more careful.

Lifting your phone messaging him

Please come over, I need you xx

Is everything alright? Tom replied almost instantly

No, please come over, I need to talk to you. I need to explain myself and i need to do it in person, please xxx

Tom came straight over finishing up walking Bobby, you asked him to sit down, handed him some tea and sat the pile of paper infront of him. Judging by the look on his face he already knew what it was about,

"I'm sorry Y/n I'm so sorry, i never read them i knocked them over i should have told you, I'm sorry" Poor Tom panicking thinking he was introuble

"I'm not mad, please let me explain" You took his hand in yours, taking a deep breath "It was an accident, I , he, we had an argument someone had called from his work called, a woman and he'd been coming home late working on weekends, not answering any of my text or calls, and I confronted him about it he said he didn't know and no woman worked with him and we got to shouting and he grabbed me, he hurt me I didn't mean to upset him I-" tears priking your eyes and yourvoice catching in your throat, Tom gently squeezed your hand tighter "It's alright, you don't have to tell me anymore" he said

"No I want to, I didn't mean to upset him I didn't mean to make him mad and the phone wrang again n I told him to answer it if he wasn't hiding anything, it was her on the phone he got really mad started shouting, threw the phone across the room, he threw everything he grabbed me, he threw me and hit me and broke my nose and my-" now fully accepting the tears you cried and continued "he broke my nose and my ribs and he bruised my neck and everything, he threw me Tom, he said he loved me. If I never asked him he wouldnt have-"

"Don't say that, do not blame yourself that was not your fault, do not think like that, please." Tom letting slip a few stray tears himself

"He had done it to others, he hurt them, I was in court he went to prison for a few years, he told me if he found me he would hurt me, and he would- I didn't know what to do, he has friends, ots of friends, he is everywhere, I ran I got a coach far away from there somewhere he would never look for me, somewhere with too many people he wouldn't find me, I ran, like a scared child I ran so far away from everything I knew, packed a case and ran. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I'm sorry I didn't know how, I didn't know what to do Tom, I never ment for you to find out, not like this I'm sorry and when i saw them by the door I knew you saw it, and I thought you might think I did those things, but i didn't I never hurt anyone I swear.I'm so sorry Tom." Sobbing on the couch you felt humiliated, embarrassed, raw emotion, you sat there sobbing your heart out infront of the greatest man in the planet who didn't even know what he was getting himself into with you.

His heart was breaking for you, how could something so terrible happen to someone so sweet, so beautiful, so kind and caring, how could anyone do something like that to you, a gentle soul. You both sat crying, you cuddled up into his chest took his arms wrapping them around you, "I've got you, you'll always be safe here, noone will ever hurt you again. Not while I'm here, I'll protect you. Always."

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x hurt #tom hiddleston comfort #tom hiddleston love #tom hiddleston x yn

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mangabookclub · 1 year

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Tales from the Mana Crypt #74 - [2] Cycling [2] Furious

Life cycle of a magic player.

#magic the gathering #web comics #comics #tales from the mana crypt #mtg #mtg fanart #mtg commander #mtg edh #comic #edh

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rosie-b · 10 months

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I Can Hear the Bells (you didn't hear the chimes)

2 chapters, completed (9806 words)

“So, you had a dream about Marinette. Was it a good dream?”

Adrien practically melted. “It was amazing, Plagg,” he said with a wistful sigh. “We were lying on a beach together, and she kissed me and—”

“Ugh, I get it! So, it was a love spell. No real danger, problem solved. Thank cheese.”

“A love spell? Wait, but Plagg, couldn’t that mean that Marinette got affected, too? What if— oh, no,” Adrien gasped. “What if I made her fall in love with me?”

You can read the rest on AO3; chapter one is just below!

Adrien was becoming a rather decent witch.

He wasn’t the best one in the world, but he’d gained a mastery of 23 complex spells and 74 simple ones over the past three months since his eighteenth birthday. That meant he had to be doing well, right?

Even so, the near-constant pressure to study magic he got from Plagg, his familiar and instructor in all things magical, was taking its toll. What Adrien needed, as Plagg had conceded after his pupil had nearly fainted after a simple tea leaves reading, was a solid few days spent off. A break, during which Adrien could relax and recharge by taking advantage of others’ magic abilities, instead of relying on his own.

“What you need,” Plagg had said, lazily floating in front of Adrien with an unbothered expression on his face, “Is a good relaxation spell. And your specialty is destructive magic, so you can’t make one for yourself.”

Adrien had sighed and waved Plagg’s stinky breath away with one hand. “And where would I find one, then? Magic is still new to me, after all; I don’t know any other witches I could ask to give me one.”

“And that’s entirely your parents’ fault,” Plagg had sniffed. “In the old days, no witch worth their salt would have died without leaving a secret book of instructions for their kid. But no, they had to leave the dirty work to your poor, abused familiar!”

The kwami was fond of lamenting in this way to Adrien, who’d gotten used to it by then.

“Plagg, we’ve been over this. Just get to the point, please!”

Plagg had scowled at Adrien for a moment and then given up the act.

“There are plenty of other witches in Paris. The reason that you haven’t met them is because they only go out without being disguised as normal mortals at night, and then only on certain days of the moon cycle. On those nights, they hold a magic fair, a collection of witches’ shops. And we’re in luck, because there’s a fair tonight!”

Adrien had brightened up immediately. “Really? Where is it?”

Plagg had waved one tiny paw dismissively. “If you go out past sundown and keep yourself open to magic, you’ll be able to sense where to find it; it’s easy. Once you get there, pick up a spelled object; it’ll be a toiletry item, a bath bomb or whatever those creative witches are putting their spells into these days. Whatever it is, it’ll probably have lavender in it, like most relaxation spells do.”

“Lavender bath bomb, Paris witch shop, nighttime. Got it. Thanks, Plagg!”

And so, taking his familiar’s advice, Adrien was going to visit a magic fair. He’d taken Plagg with him, although the little kwami had protested that he was losing quality napping time. But for all his protests and prickly personality, Adrien knew that Plagg cared about him deep down.

Adrien left his apartment fifteen minutes after the last rays of sun had disappeared from the sky. As soon as he stepped outside, he felt a tugging sensation in his chest.

“To the left,” he muttered, because that’s where the sensation seemed to be leading him.

“To the left, to the left, to the left,” Plagg repeated in a nasal voice. “Now kick, now kick, now kick—”

“Oh come on, Plagg!” Adrien cried in exasperation.

The kwami only giggled and flew out ahead of Adrien. “You come on,” he smirked.

Adrien rolled his eyes, but stepped forward, slowly following the magic map with only a few wrong turns, eventually ending up at Place des Vosges.

There, lined up around the perimeter of the park, with some shops in the center by the fountain, was a collection of twenty or so little tents made of colorful, embroidered cloth. This is it, the magic seemed to say. This is what you’re looking for.

Around the outside of the park, there was a glowing teal line. Adrien paused before it, deciding whether he should cross it, or if some warning system would be triggered if he did.

“What is that?” he asked Plagg.

Plagg twitched his tail. “It’s a time spell. Once you enter the park, you can spend as long as you need inside, but once you exit, it will be like only a few minutes passed. That way everyone can get their shopping done and still get enough sleep tonight.”

“Oh,” Adrien hummed. “That’s really smart!”

And he stepped over the line into the park, with Plagg just behind him.

Wooden signs outside the tents announced what was sold in each, from charms to potions. There was even a tent selling ‘illusive’ hats, whatever that meant.

“The tents are a temporary thing,” Plagg continued. “They use a different spell, an illusion, to let the witches set them all up before sundown. That way, the boring normal Parisians don’t suspect a thing, and the ancient tradition of— oh camembert! A cheese tent! Adrien, I have to go. I will meet you when you leave the circle! Good luck and goodbye!”

Before Adrien could get in a single question, his familiar was zipping off to a small tent near the edge of the park. Shrugging, he kept walking along, knowing that Plagg would show up eventually—once he’d eaten half the poor cheese seller’s stock, probably.

There were a lot of witches gathered in the park, most of them with a kwami floating nearby. Some of them were even wearing pointed hats, which Adrien thought was rather strange. He’d assumed, after Plagg had suddenly appeared and announced magic’s existence to him on his eighteenth birthday, that pointy hats were just a made-up stereotype, not a fact of witches’ society!

Adrien passed seven tents that didn’t seem to carry the right kind of spelled items before he found a medium-sized red tent that advertised a variety of healing and creative spells. That sounded a lot like what Plagg had described earlier, so he headed inside the tent, whose sign read “Ladybug’s Boutique.”

There was no chime like he’d expect at a normal store as he stepped inside, but he only had a moment to glance around before the handful of people inside the tent fell quiet, staring at him like they’d never seen a blond boy in Paris before.

“Rena, I’ll call you back,” the witch sitting at the tiny checkout desk said, and pressed the earring in her left ear. “Fly, helcome, er, welcome! What brings a person like you here?”

Adrien blinked at the witch, who didn’t have a kwami near her, but was wearing a red hat with black spots on it. She must be Ladybug. Somehow, she looked familiar, but Adrien was positive he’d never met her before.

“Uh, I’m just here to look around, I guess. I wanted to get a bath bomb, but I haven’t found any so far.”

Ladybug’s smile twitched. “I see. Well, luckily for you, I do sell bath bombs—totally normal bath bombs! So normal, like, you wouldn’t believe.” She gestured vaguely to a basket of bath bombs sitting to the left of the desk, half-hidden by a rack of scarves.

Adrien wasn’t sure why normalcy would be a selling point for a witch’s bath bombs. Maybe she just meant they didn’t work any differently from non-magic bath bombs?

Around Adrien, the other witches turned back to what they’d been doing before. The ones who’d brought their kwamis subtly ushered them into purses or pockets — their hiding spots, in other words.

Adrien wondered if the other witches thought he wanted to steal their kwamis. Not that a teacher more open with their information than Plagg wouldn’t be nice, but he had no intention of taking one, and besides, he was somehow growing fond of the stinky cat.

Adrien didn’t say anything, because he didn’t want to be rude. Instead, he kept addressing Ladybug, who seemed like the only one to be okay with his presence, even if she was still a bit jumpy.

“Oh, thanks! I guess I’ll just take a look through them, then,” he said. He walked over to the basket and began sorting through.

Just before he reached the basket, he’d caught a mumbled whisper from one of the guests. Adrien wasn’t positive what it had been, but he was pretty sure it was a spell.

And considering how blank the bath bombs’ wrappers now were, he was pretty sure it had somehow erased the labels from each one of them.

Adrien scowled. Okay, that was just rude!

He shot a frown at the man who’d cast the spell, but there was no sense in starting a fight over it, so he kept sorting through and did his best to guess at what each bath bomb’s spell was. There were a few purple ones, and Plagg had said the spell would be lavender, so it had to be one of those ones.

Eventually, Adrien grabbed a bath bomb that was light purple on top, with a pale white lower half. Most of the bath bombs seemed to be of that kind, which meant that Ladybug made a surplus of relaxing spells on purpose. She probably cared deeply about helping other witches stay relaxed in their crazy lives! That was so nice of her.

Adrien walked over to the desk to check out. It took him all of two steps, and Ladybug was already ready to scan his purchase when he arrived.

She stared at the bath bomb for a moment when Adrien handed it to her.

“This doesn’t have a label,” she said, staring up at him like he’d peeled it off himself.

“None of them do anymore. I’m not really sure why,” Adrien sighed, because he really wasn’t sure why the other witch would be so petty as to ruin all the hard work of whoever had prepared the bath bombs for selling, likely Ladybug herself.

“I see,” Ladybug said, shooting a glare at someone behind Adrien. A chime sounded as whoever it had been stepped out of the tent. “I don’t even know what sp— what type this is anymore. I make so many of these,” she fussed as she lifted the bath bomb and sniffed it. “I don’t know. I mean, I think I know? And it shouldn’t matter anyway, right? But I could be wrong, and if I’m wrong, then! Then!”

Ladybug clutched at her hair, clearly about to fly into a panic.

Adrien smiled reassuringly. “This is the one I want. Don’t worry,” he said, keeping a calming smile on his face. “If you’re wrong, I will only blame myself, I promise.”

“And Claude,” Ladybug muttered under her breath. Then, with a smile, she continued, “I’m so sorry about the mixup. How about you just take it for free as an apology, okay?”

Adrien shook his head. “That’s awfully generous of you, but you don’t need to apologize. I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. Let me give you something to cover it, at least. How much would it usually cost?”

Ladybug tapped her fingers on the desk, which did not, Adrien noticed, have a cash register on it.

“There’s no label, is there, which means no price, which means you don’t have to pay. I insist,” she said with a blinding smile when Adrien opened his mouth to protest. “Please. Just take it.”

Adrien closed his mouth with a click. “Okay,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll take it. But then you have to take this,” he said.

And slamming down a ten on the desk, Adrien darted out of the shop before Ladybug could catch on to what he’d done and forcibly give the money back. He’d learned from experience that nice people like her did not take kindly to people paying them when they thought they were owed nothing. But Adrien knew that he had to pay something for the bath bomb, though how much, he had no idea.

He hoped ten euros had been enough. But maybe it was too much?

Oh, well. If it was, then it was just extra payment for the kerfuffle he’d caused. He knew that there had been fewer witches when he left than when he’d entered, and he hated the thought that he could’ve cost her business with his inexperienced, somehow repulsive witch’s air.

“Plagg!” he called when he reached the edge of the park. “Plagg! Over here!”

A few seconds later, a small black cat, noticeably rotund, slowly flew over to Adrien.

“Did you have any luck?” Plagg asked with a burp.

Adrien wrinkled his nose. “Yes, actually, though not in making any witchy friends. Come on, we need to leave, I’m like cyanide to businesses here!”

Plagg frowned as they left the park’s protective circle. “Yeesh, I didn’t think you would be that bad at blending in. You’re all witches,” he said, pondering the matter.

“Yeah, but I guess learning about magic eighteen years later than normal marks me as different somehow. I don’t blame them, it seems like a close-knit community and seeing someone new intrude on it must have been weird. Maybe next time will go smoother.”

“Maybe,” Plagg agreed. “I’ll have plenty of time to whip you into shape by then. We’ve got a whole fortnight,” he informed Adrien.

“That’s good,” Adrien said. “As long as your teaching doesn’t involve any camembert, I think we’ll be ready for a second shot by then.”

__*__*__*__*__

Adrien almost turned the key the wrong way in the lock when he got back to his apartment.

He was still getting used to the place. It was smaller than the suite he’d grown up in at Le Grand Paris, but he didn’t mind. He tried not be resentful of the Bourgeois family—they’d been so kind to take him in after his parents died, after all—but they were very different from him. A little too different, perhaps. He’d already been planning on moving out after his eighteenth birthday; Plagg’s sudden arrival in his life, like some small, smelly godfairy, had just sped things up.

Stepping into the bathroom, Adrien shut the door behind him and stood with his hands on his hips, pondering the empty tub. He’d used plenty of bath bombs before (being Chloe’s only friend and pseudo-brother guaranteed that), but he’d never used a magic one, and the label for this one had been conveniently destroyed. He should have asked Ladybug for the instructions while he could; then again, it had been a strange shopping experience, so he didn’t really blame himself for forgetting to.

But hopefully, he knew someone else who could help.

“Plagg?” Adrien called, knowing he could hear him wherever he was in the small apartment.

“I thought you told me that you weren’t comfortable with me being in the bathroom when the door is shut,” Plagg called back.

Adrien groaned. “I’m not naked, Plagg.”

A moment later, the kwami was hovering in front of Adrien’s face.

“So, what is it? I assume you badly need my help with some very big problem, or you wouldn’t have interrupted my nap.”

“Nope, nothing big, sorry. Do you know how to use a magic bath bomb?” Adrien held it out in front of Plagg, who sniffed it once and shrugged.

“Not my area of expertise, kid. I’m a kwami of destruction, remember?”

“But you know about other kinds of magic, too.”

“Eh, little bits here and there, yeah. This particular object smells like creation magic, which theoretically I know the most about, but bath bombs are new to me. The last time I was a familiar was a few centuries ago, and they weren’t really common then.”

So much for that idea, then.

“Well, do you have any guesses, at least?”

Plagg’s ear twitched. “If it’s like the other spelled objects I know, you just use it like you usually would. But first, activate the spell; that’s something you have to do to get rid of the safety lock most witches put on their spelled objects so that pesky regular humans can’t use them for themselves. This object smells like creation magic, so the right words should be ‘spots on.’ And that’s all there is to it, unless bath bombs are special.”

Adrien pinched his nose. “Really, Plagg? You could have led with that instead of saying you couldn’t help.”

“Well, if that’s how you’re going to react to me graciously choosing to share my illustrious wisdom, see if I help you again,” Plagg said with a sniff.

Adrien reached out and cupped the kwami in his free hand. “Sorry, Plagg. I am grateful for your help, you know. It’s just been a rough night.”

“It’s been a rough three months, more like,” Plagg corrected, letting out a reluctant purr when Adrien scratched behind his ears. A moment later, he flew up and over to the door. “Okay, time for you to take that relaxing bath of yours. I’ll be napping, so don’t call again unless you really need me!”

Adrien smiled. “Bye, Plagg,” he said. The kwami phased through the door, and then he was gone.

So, Adrien plugged the tub’s drain, turned on the hot water, and pulled up a playlist Nino had made for him as a graduation present to listen to while the tub filled and he got undressed.

Adrien hummed along to the songs, thinking of how lucky he was to be part of a friend group that hadn’t fallen apart after they moved on to university. Alya, Nino, Marinette, and he still met up almost every week, and Nino and he even went to the same university, though for very different majors. Adrien was studying to be a pediatric nurse; Nino was a film production major. They would never share a class again.

The tub had filled up enough, so Adrien unwrapped the bath bomb and plopped it in the tub, whispering “spots on” as he did. The bath bomb immediately started fizzling, but that was what they all did. It smelled nice, too, but so did most of them. It really seemed like a normal bath bomb, Adrien mused as he slid himself into the tub.

The rest of the bath was relaxing, but not any more relaxing than other baths Adrien had taken in the past. There wasn’t anything to mark this as a magic occurrence, and he was tempted to conclude that Ladybug’s spell simply hadn’t worked, but he decided to hold off on judgment yet. Maybe the effects took a while to kick in, or maybe they would show themselves in more subtle ways. Maybe Adrien would finally wake up feeling refreshed, instead of still tired and dreading the long day ahead.

Besides, Adrien did feel more relaxed now than he had before the bath. And it was finally the weekend, and Plagg had promised to give him a break from constantly testing him on his magic skills for a few days. That was good enough for him, Adrien thought as he dried off and wrapped a fluffy robe around himself.

__*__*__*__*__

That night, Adrien dreamed of Marinette.

It wasn’t that surprising to him; he’d been dreaming of her ever since eighth grade, when he’d fallen in love with her. But although he’d had hundreds of dreams about her, something about this one was different.

For one thing, Marinette was an adult in it. More of an adult, anyway; she was easily in her mid-twenties (and still just as gorgeous as ever). So was Adrien, and they’d been resting on an island together, lying on the beach without a care in the world. It was the most blissful feeling Adrien had ever experienced; and then Marinette had rolled over and kissed him and it had gotten even better.

“I’m so glad you convinced me to come here, mon amour,” she whispered, laying her head on his chest and looking up at him with eyes as dazzlingly blue as the sea.

Adrien’s heart had been close to bursting, but in the dream he’d still managed to stroke her hair and whisper back that he was glad she’d agreed to come.

“You were right, after all,” Marinette had continued. “This is the perfect place for our honeymoon.”

Adrien could feel his eyes growing wider, but his dream self had gone on like nothing was out of the ordinary. Well, almost.

“Mm-hmm. I told you it would be a dream, milady.”

Marinette had laughed, pushing herself off his chest to hover over him, staring right in his eyes and making Adrien’s heart flutter wildly.

“You and your puns,” she’d laughed. “I hope you’re enjoying this, Adrien.”

“How could I not? You’re finally with me,” he’d purred.

“Now and forever,” she’d agreed, and leaned in for another kiss.

Adrien had woken up in a sweat.

It was still the middle of the night.

“That was so not relaxing,” he’d groaned, and had tossed and turned for the rest of the unrestful night.

At breakfast, he stared at his burnt toast without taking a bite.

Plagg flew in, holding a sock from the bottom of the laundry hamper.

“Hi, Adrien,” he said cheerfully. “Feeling any better?”

Adrien’s eye twitched as he kept staring at the toast.

Plagg cleared his throat. “You have lunch with Nino and the girls at noon, and you asked me to remind you, so I reminded you, and you have to remember now and thank me profusely for my service. A little bonus camembert wouldn’t hurt, either.”

Adrien thought he could make out Marinette’s face in the ridges of the burnt toast, but then his eyes unfocused, and he couldn’t make out anything.

Plagg’s tail twitched. “Hello?”

If Adrien drank twelve cups of coffee, he might feel awake enough to respond.

“Hello?” Plagg was getting impatient. “Adrien, wake up! You’re not supposed to be this relaxed!”

He flew over Adrien’s head and draped the sock he’d been carrying over his hair. Then he dove down to the plate and scarfed the burnt toast down without hesitation.

Finally, Adrien moved.

“Hey, you ate Marinette!” he complained. He crossed his arms, and the sock fell off his head and onto the table.

“Good morning to you, too,” Plagg said. “Listen, Adrien, are you okay? You’re acting weirder than usual.”

Adrien sighed and pushed the chair back from the table. “I don’t think that was a relaxation spell, Plagg,” he said. “If anything, it was a drain-your-energy-overnight-spell. Or maybe it wasn’t magic, at all! Because I do not feel rested, Plagg. And I had a weird dream about Marinette.”

Plagg groaned. “Whatever it was, do not tell me about it. You wax poetic about her around me too much anyways. It’s disgusting! You humans and your lovelorn, sappy sighs and faces. It’s enough to turn me off cheese! Cheddar, anyway. Not camembert. I don’t understand why you won’t just confess to her!”

“You don’t understand, Plagg! We’ve been friends since we were kids. If I confess to her and she doesn’t feel the same way—”

“It could ruin your friendship forever and blah blah blah. I get it,” Plagg said, rubbing his forehead and swishing his tail. “I still think you should tell her. So, the bath bomb didn’t work? Which witch did you buy it from, anyway?”

“I think she was called Ladybug,” Adrien said thoughtfully, staring off in the distance. “She was wearing a polka-dotted hat. I thought those were just in fairy tales.”

“Ladybug? But then why—? Adrien, you activated the spell, right?”

Adrien nodded. “Yep.” He frowned at the spot on his plate where his toast had been, which was currently being occupied by a week-old stinky sock. “Ugh, really?”

Plagg shrugged. “You’re welcome. Anway, did, uh, Ladybug recognize you?”

Adrien tilted his head. “I don’t think so. But nobody there seemed happy to see me. One of the witches in her tent spelled the labels off all the bath bombs.”

“What? Then you made sure to double check which type it was, right?”

“Even Ladybug didn’t know what it was. She sniffed it and said she thought she knew what it was, but maybe she didn’t, and also said it shouldn’t matter, and I told her it’d be my fault if I picked the wrong one to get her to stop worrying. She nearly didn’t let me pay, either,” he huffed.

“What, but why wouldn’t she check first? She could check! What kind of witch is she? I thought Tikki would teach M— would teach her better than this!”

Adrien blinked. “What do you mean, she could check? She tried to check, remember? It’s not her fault,” he sighed, leaning over the table and resting his chin on his hand.

Suddenly, Plagg looked very grim. “Adrien,” he said seriously, which was nearly enough to make Adrien’s heart stop pumping, “You did tell her that you were a witch, right?”

Adrien blinked. “No, why would I? It’s a magic fair, right? The only people there were witches.”

Plagg covered his eyes and wailed. “That’s not a given! People take their families to those shops even if they’re too young to have a familiar! They even take their friends sometimes, boring ones, with no magic at all! And worse, sometimes the illusion spell breaks, and normal humans who aren’t supposed to know about magic wander in, and then the witches have to hide what they’re really doing there! Please tell me, did you at least hear a chime as you walked into Ladybug’s tent?”

Adrien tried to remember. “I don’t think so. Why?”

Plagg looked up at him wearily. “Then she didn’t know you were a witch. Oh, this one’s my fault, kid. I should have warned you, but I couldn’t help it! I can’t resist my gooey camembert!”

Adrien raised an eyebrow. “Plagg, what are you saying?”

“There are two easy ways to identify a witch, kid. One of them is their kwami; you saw a lot of witches at the fair with one on their shoulder, didn’t you? The chime would have gone off if I’d been with you, but you were alone. Second way to identify witches; a magic hat. That’s the more secretive option; they hide your true identity from everyone you meet, even other witches. It’s the perfect option for witches who are uncomfortable with anyone knowing who they are, though us kwamis can see right through the illusion. If you’d had a hat last night, you could’ve gone incognito and the chime would have rung for you. But you didn’t have me, and you weren’t wearing a hat, so the chime didn’t ring and Ladybug thought you were just a regular old human who snuck into the fair!”

“She didn’t check what the bath bomb’s spell was because she thought I wouldn’t be able to activate it,” Adrien gasped. “Plagg! This explains so much!”

“I’m going to go hide in a cave for the next thousand years,” Plagg moaned. “I can’t believe it. I’m failing my job as a familiar! Tikki is never going to let me live this down!”

Adrien was too floored by their discovery to ask who Tikki was or what living in a cave would accomplish.

“The other witches thought I was just a regular human, too! And that rude guy, he was just trying to help by hiding the labels with the spells on them! But I didn’t notice and I just stood there and bought the wrong spell, like an idiot!”

Plagg flew to Adrien and grabbed his nightshirt’s lapels with both paws, shaking them furiously as he spoke. “We have to find out what kind of spell you used, Adrien! Do you hear me? This is very dangerous, and while I normally like that, I don’t want you to get hurt!”

Adrien stopped panicking and blinked down at Plagg as a grin spread across his face. “Aww, Plagg! You do care!”

“Of course I care, I chose you to be my witch! I’m supposed to take care of you and make sure you don’t accidentally blow up the world because you don’t understand your magic! And instead I fell victim to the seductive evils of camembert! I’m a failure!”

Adrien laughed. “Don’t worry, Plagg, I’ll forgive you. But first, you have to help me figure out what kind of spell it actually was that I activated. I think it’s related to the dream I had.”

Plagg groaned and flew over to the sock lying on the table. “Not the dream!” He draped the sock around himself and inhaled deeply. “You’re probably right,” he mused after a moment. “So, you had a dream about Marinette. Was it a good dream?”

Adrien practically melted. “It was amazing, Plagg,” he said with a wistful sigh. “We were lying on a beach together, and she kissed me and—”

“Ugh, I get it! So, it was a love spell. No real danger, problem solved. Thank cheese.”

“A love spell? Wait, but Plagg, couldn’t that mean that Marinette got affected, too? What if— oh, no,” Adrien gasped. “What if I made her fall in love with me?”

Plagg snorted. “Unlikely. But you know what, if you want to check, your chance is coming up soon. You have lunch with her in just over an hour.”

Adrien shot up from the table. “What!? But I told you to remind me earlier than this! What if I’m late?”

“I did warn you earlier than this,” Plagg huffed. “But you were busy making googly eyes at a piece of toast. Which you then called Marinette when you yelled at me for eating it, for some reason.”

Adrien’s face flushed red. “Plagg! Just help me get ready on time, will you?”

Plagg sighed. “My troubles never end,” he whined. “This is the last time I sign up to be a familiar.”

(tumblr link for chapter 2)

#rosie-b writing #ml fanfic #love square #ml au #adrien and marinette are witches but neither of them knows the other is #miraculous ladybug #adrinette #some ladrien too

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dailycass-cain · 7 months

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Cassandra Cain Action Figures as of 2024

So you want some Cassandra Cain action figures? There are currently six in existence (two from DC Direct, one by Mattel, and three now by McFarlane Toys), all of Cass in her Batgirl persona.

Here's an updated list of the most expensive Cass figures and the easier ones to attain.

Cass appeared in the final "DC Superheroes" wave by Mattel (it was changed to the "DC Universe" line shortly thereafter).

The figure used to be the most expensive Cass figure. Nowadays? You can get this for $80 in pack complete.

Loose with its lone accessory? I've seen it go for less than $45 to 50.

The first from DC Direct is from their "First Appearance" line and features a Damion Scott-inspired Batgirl. It also comes with a mini-comic of her first appearance.

$20 loose (figure and the two accessories minus comic) to $80 in pack complete is the current asking price.

The batarang accessory this Cass can barely hold. Plus being early DC Direct the plastic has some warped bat ears and bat fins. The "hair dryer" or "hot water" method of getting plastic in its original position might be needed for this figure.

The mini-comic reprint is usually the rare accessory not found when sold loose.

The final DC Direct Cass figure is from their "JL Classified" line and is a more Ed McGuinness-inspired version of her from Batman/Superman #5. Until just last year, this was the last figure Cass had got (2010 released).

Surprisingly, since 2019 this is now one of the most expensive action figures of Cass to buy.

Loose? Copies are going for $74.

Complete? Someone actually is trying to sell this for $200 on eBay (though another is selling this complete for $85).

McFarlane Toys FINALLY broke the cycle of Cassless figures just last year with this Page Punchers Batgirl figure from 2023.

Currently, as of 2024, this figure is fetching $20 loose and $35 completely in the box.

HOWEVER, there is a variant of this Batgirl (because McFarlane Toys! loves to do that). You can tell the differences between the two with the variant having a darker blue mask/cape and tribal markings on her body (the original doesn't have this).

As of 2024, I could find only one seller of this figure. Mint in the box for $200, making her the OTHER expensive Cass figure. 😶😶😶

As of 2024, McFarlane Toys has another Cass figure coming out for the character's twenty-fifth anniversary, but it'll only available via Target.

The figure is "based" on Batgirl Vol. 2 #1 cover by Jim Calafiore. It is going for $22.99 and will be released in late April 2024. On eBay, scalpers are currently asking for $34.99 for it.

For more on THIS Cass figure see here.

#cassandra cain #action figures #dc direct #mattel #mcfarlane toys

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lacefuneral · 7 months

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bit TMI but. i am an advocate for recovery so! i think it is important to talk about mental health things

i've talked about how i'm in an IOP right now, but not the specifics i don't think. it's an ERP (exposure therapy) program. which essentially means that i trigger myself on purpose multiple times a day (planned and discussed ahead of time) and i keep track of my distress level. the idea is that you have like an arbitrary number. say, distress of 70 points. and as you habituate to the triggering situation, these points will decrease. when you reach "half" (whatever that means for the individual) you are allowed to stop the exposure, as it is considered successful. although some are also day-long or activity-long

right now, for example, i'm doing an OCD contamination exposure where i played tug of war with my dogs (so i now have gross dog saliva on my hands) and i'm trying to go about my day at work without washing my hands even one time. so i have to touch my phone, eat, etc. - record the highest level of distress - and how long it takes for me to habituate. highest so far has been 74. hovering around a 70 right now after 15 minutes. goal would be around the 35-40 range.

anyway. for some reason it did not occur to me that being triggered, even if controlled, is going to have effects on my body. my shoulders have been in excruciating pain the last couple of days because my body locks up during intense exposures. my menstrual cycle is abnormal because my body is undergoing so much stress that it's like "hey maybe we don't need to be losing a lot of blood right now." and i've also had quite a few stress nightmares

like it makes sense but it's also like. ohhhhh. yeah. that'll happen.

so if you go through an intensive ERP program like this, make sure that you are taking care of yourself. lots of water, stretching, warm showers or baths. if you have someone who is willing to massage out aches in your shoulders or neck. i've been using a heating pad and that's a godsend

like. be very kind to yourself. because it's physically difficult work, too. not just psychological

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pettton · 3 months

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クロマトグラムを音のvelocityに変換する試み ①メインパッチャー

HPLCピーク画像から横軸縦軸の数値を拾い、同時再生のピアノ旋律のvelocityに反映させた。

#Cycling '74 Max8

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liaromancewriter · 7 months

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Feb 2024 Challenge - Eros 7. The biological basis of eros is procreation for Ethan x Cassie

No Barriers

Premise: It’s finally time to expand their family, but will nerves take over?

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Mature. Fluff. Words: 1,205

A/N: I'm soooo sorry, Nonny. It took me forever to find the right story idea for this prompt, and then I struggled with the words all of last week and this. Hope you enjoy it!

Submission for @choicesfebruary2024 prompt "Eros - procreation". I'm using @choicesflashfics week 74, prompt 3

Waiting was the hardest part. As a doctor, she understood the complicated relationship between chemicals, hormones and the human reproductive system. But as a woman who was finally ready to start a family, the wait while her body reversed the effects of birth control had been torturous.

So, when Cassie Valentine saw the notification on her phone from the app tracking her cycle, she had to dig deep to stop herself from running across the hospital to her husband’s office and ordering him to strip, bend her over his desk and put a baby in her.

She chuckled as she imagined the exasperation on Ethan Ramsey’s face if she did that. He’d surely pinch the bridge of his nose and curse under his breath. The way he said, “For Christ’s sake,” or “For the love of god,” with a hint of Rhode Island sass, was forever endearing to her (much to his perplexation).

Just because she had self-control (barely) didn’t mean she couldn’t give him a heads-up that he was in for a wild ride tonight and every night for the next few days.

In the dimly lit bedroom overlooking the dark waters of Boston Harbor, the soft glow of flickering candles cast dancing shadows on the walls. The delicate scent of vanilla and lavender lent an air of warmth and intimacy, but it couldn’t hide the nerves.

Cassie hadn’t felt nervous like this during their first time together all those years ago. Back then, she’d been swept up in the romance and culmination of months of longing for this man. But tonight, despite her earlier bravado or the desire and anticipation coursing through her veins, she felt her skin tingle with trepidation.

Ethan stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. She tilted her head back, gazing into his eyes, her lips parting slightly. The warmth from the candles mirrored the heat rising between them, their breaths mingling in the air.

“Nervous?” he whispered, his lips hovering tantalizingly above hers.

“Terrified,” Cassie admitted, letting out a short laugh. “It’s funny because we’ve had sex more times than I can remember, but knowing this time it’s….”

She shrugged, leaving the rest unsaid.

Gently, he brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers trailing down her cheek to her neck, feeling the pulse quicken under his touch. Cassie leaned into him, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, then sliding up to tangle in his dark brown hair.

“You know,” Ethan began in a measured tone, “studies show it’s normal for couples to have nerves when trying to get pregnant. But it’s also counterproductive because stress hormones can act as mental and physical barriers. You need to get out of your head and let it come naturally.”

Annoyed, Cassie pushed herself out of his arms and faced him with her hands on her hips. “Now, you’re just killing the mood! This is not the time for Dr. Ramsey. I need Ethan, so be that.”

To her amusement, he rolled his eyes and tugged her back into his arms. “What do you want ‘Ethan’ to do?”

“Sweep me off my feet like the first time. Fuck me until all I can’t walk straight——”

Cassie yelped as Ethan literally swept her up into his arms and dumped her on their bed. He quickly followed her down, pressing her body into the soft mattress. His lips latched onto the side of her neck, nibbling and sucking the sensitive skin until throaty moans escaped her lips.

His mouth covered hers, coaxing her with his tongue to let him in, and he deepened the kiss when she parted her lips. Her legs fell to the sides, cradling his burgeoning erection between her thighs. Her hips rose off the bed, and she locked her ankles behind his thighs.

Ethan cuffed her wrists with one hand and held her arms above her head. Cassie squirmed as his other hand slowly traced a path through the valley between her breasts, leaving goosebumps in its wake. His fingers strummed her nipples, taking turns to make circular patterns across each tip before descending further down past her belly button.

Her eyes snapped open when he entered her with his middle finger, the heel of his palm pressing on the nub at the top of her sex.

“Uh.” She shook the fog of lust clouding her brain. “Shouldn’t you be putting another larger and more crucial part of you inside me for this particular occasion?”

Suddenly, Ethan stilled, his finger still thrust inside her, but it was no longer in motion.

“Seriously?” he stared at her incredulously, releasing her to brace himself on his elbows. “Now, who’s killing the mood?

“Never mind.” Cassie airily waved one hand. “Carry on. I’m ready.”

Ethan muttered something under his breath, but she couldn’t make out the words.

She held back a grin as he mentally shook it off and tried to focus on the task, but he was clearly struggling to remember where he’d left off.

Deciding to give him a hand, literally, Cassie cupped his balls in her palm while stroking his length with her other hand. She knew exactly how he liked to be handled and what would push him over the edge. It didn’t take long.

She found herself upended as he lifted her up and reversed their positions. Cassie straddled his thighs, and his erection nudged her core. His hands combed through her hair before his palms covered her breasts.

“You know what to do,” he ordered, blue eyes glittering with heat. “Ride.”

Cassie took him in, slowly, oh so slowly, until he growled in frustration. Gripping her ass, his fingers clenched tightly, leaving a mark on her skin. He pulled her wide and thrust deeper until he was embedded fully. He stilled then, giving her a moment to adjust.

The nerves faded as they moved together, lost in the moment, and forgot everything but what they were to each other. With every touch and every kiss, they surrendered to the passion that consumed them.

Later, Cassie lay sprawled on top of Ethan, her head on his shoulder and her palm curled above his heart. It was not quite racing but still fast after their lovemaking. She liked how his hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers absently threading through her blonde hair.

“It’s different,” she said softly.

“Huh?” Ethan asked, his voice gruff.

“Knowing there’s no birth control, chemical or otherwise. No barriers between us.”

She felt him nod in agreement and knew he felt it, too, from how his heart jumped at the thought.

Shadows from the flickering candles danced on the walls, and the tick-tock of the clock was loud in the silence. Feeling drowsy, Cassie’s eyes started to drift close when she heard him chuckle.

“I hate to say I told you so, but …” Ethan paused, waiting until she angled her head to gaze into his eyes. She caught the smirk on his lips and the teasing twinkle in his eyes and arched one brow askance.

“I was right earlier,” he continued matter-of-factly. “Sometimes, you just have to let go and let things come naturally.”

---------------

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @justyourusualash @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate @zealouscanonindeer

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart choices #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #open heart fanfics #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfics #choices fanfiction #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine

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found-family-tournament · 1 year

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Found Family Tournament Round 1 Part 15 Group 74

Propaganda and further pictures under the cut

The Local Group: Five Pebbles, Looks to the Moon, No Significant Harassment, Seven Red Suns, Sliver of Straw, Gray/Chasing Winds, Unparalleled Innocence

Mods note: Just ignore Grenda and Candy.

Submissions are still open!

Wendy, Soos, Stanford, Stanley, Dipper, Mabel & Waddles:

idk i like gravity falls and also because they all helped each other i think because stanley wanted a family cause he was lonely and soos was like abandoned by his dad so he had people and wendy's dad kinda sucked so she got an outlet away from home i think idk and stanford kinda was in another dimension for a while so he needed family i think and i guess dipper and mabel didn't really need it because they have parents and a life at home but like idk i just like gravity falls

The Local Group:

They are a bunch of biomechanical supercomputers from a post society wasteland. Like, they are large enough to have cities built on top of them, but are also really tiny in the grand scheme of things(both literally and metaphorically since they have humanoid sized 'puppets' inside their structures).

The civilization that built them was Buddhist adjacent and tried to separate themselves from mortal desires, one of which was the need for companionship since they thought it would stop them from being able to ascend above the cycle of death and rebirth. Of course, this had an impact on them, but, in the storytelling of the game, the iterators often come across as more personable than the Ancients that built them. Yes, they are suffering and distant from one another physically, but they fucking love each other so much. They never tell each other it directly but the thought is there. They are siblings and despite their creators/parents abandoning them to transcend theirs world they have each other and their endless task (trying to solve the cycles). They are so mentally ill. Love them <3 Also they are so 'I'm taking you down with me, hand in unlovable hand" (In a "We're both shitty people but at least we have each other" context)

They probably won't make it into the tournament but I needed to rant about them, haha. Hope you're doing well and having fun going through these submissions tournament runner!

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talonabraxas · 2 months

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Lord Narasimha

Narasimha avatar is known as the fiercest avatar of Lord Vishnu among his Dashavatara. Lord Vishnu took this avatar to eliminate the demon king Hiranyakashipu, who had created havoc in all three dimensions.

Out of the several avatars of Lord Vishnu, ten important incarnations are classified as Dasaavataras. Among them Nrusimha avatar has attained a rare significance and importance. All His avatars are generally of a single form(apart from Varaha). But Narasimha avatar is of a dual form, Nara + Simha. Nara means man and Lion is an animal. Narasimha means a combined form of a Lion and a Man. This was the 4th avatar among the Dasavatars and it was a Sathya Yuga Avatar said to have taken place in Chakshuva Manvantar. It is said that in reference to Lord Narasimha is found in as many as 15 Puranas, and a separate Purana (Upa Purana) itself has been scripted in his name called Nrusimha Purana.

It was an instant avatar, called as Aavesa avatar (no prior preparations were made) where the Lord Narasimha appears in a very ferocious and fascinating form. Narasimha Avatar is referred to as a very powerful, precious avatar and the Lord Narasimha is depicted as a great protector at the time of need. He is the God of Gods. He is Mrithyu for the Mrithyu (one who eliminates the death cycles)

Sri Vishnu Sahasra Nama describes Lord Vishnu as “NaarasimhaVapu Sreeman Kesavah Purushothama” meaning He is the one who has taken a rare and unique form of a man and a lion whose worship will eradicate the ignorance, possessor of the Goddess of wealth Sri Maha Lakshmi,who always dwells in his chest, one who has beautiful and charming hair, the giver of knowledge to Gods, greatest among all Purushas, the Supreme Soul, who is omnipotent and omniscient.

FORMS OF NARASIMHA

There are several forms of Narasimha, but nine main ones collectively known as Navanarasimha:

Ugra-narasimha

Kruddha-narasimha

Vira-narasimha

Vilamba-narasimha

Kopa-narasimha

Yoga-narasimha

Aghora-narasimha

Sudarsana-narasimha

Laksmi-narasimha

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raisindave · 26 days

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[Chapter 74] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

Content Warning: Mentions of drug abuse & addiction.

The main knots came undone easily enough, they weren’t very well done to begin with. Once loosened you left him to his own devices. He’s a big boy, he can fucking figure it out– he probably learned how to untie himself from a chair it in that stupid SAS Handbook of his. You gave him grace to shrug out of your not-so-handiwork while you made your way back to the bare pillow that was so deliciously cool against your cheek. For a second you swore you heard him scoff, and from the anonymity of the pillow you smiled a girlish grin. He should know you well enough by now that you won’t be charitable to him just because he’s convenient, though he never seems to mind your cruelty.

After about a minute of enjoying the stiff, slightly uneven mattress, you glanced to see his progress just in time for him to set himself at the foot of the bed. His weight heartily dragged down the shoddy bedframe, but he turned to lay on his back near your feet. Like the good little soldier he is, he was methodically recoiling his survival rope you’d hijacked. Dark tattoos on pale skin stood out against the white sheets that covered his lower half. A sense of embarrassment washed over you, now acutely aware of the context you’d found yourself sitting in. Around an hour ago, you’d been a hysterical weeping mess in the shower, now facing sobering clarity.

“Sorry for... All that earlier. It’s just-” the logic behind your meltdown, or lack thereof, slipped from your mind as it rapidly shifted gears. “I used to love my birthdays, but now they’re getting harder every year.”

He let you continue, clearly listening but not turning his gaze from the coiling rope. Your voice echoed off the cracked wallpaper, but the following silence let you hear distant helicopters and barking dogs. It was eerily tranquil, even if you were still technically on an active mission involving violent terrorists—the perfect setting for spilling your soul.

“It’s not even about my age, well, that’s part of it… it’s mostly just that every passing year is another year I’ve outlived my big sister,” you found yourself picking at your cuticles as a consequence of the self-induced anxiety. “I feel bad for feeling bad, like I’m not supposed to be unhappy or unsatisfied because I get to be alive right now. I don’t feel alive, though.”

“I know that feeling better than I’d like to admit,” sighed deeply, bordering on a yawn.

“What was your big brother like?”

Are you allowed to ask that? Is that top secret, or will you be interrogated for knowing something like that? You already have Ghost’s first and last name and where he likely grew up, given his accent. Is that already too much? Time and time again, he indulges in your curiosities when he has no reason to humour you.

“He was a fucking wreck,” he propped himself up on his elbow, lounging like a fresco of Adam.

“More of a wreck than you?” you gestured to his skull mask.

“Different kind of wreck,” he scoffed, but still couldn’t seem to raise his eyes. “He was into drugs bad. I’d deploy, and he’s fine. When I’d get back, he’s right back into the same habits. It'd be all I'd think about when I was away, how long he'd last before my mom would start to worry about 'im again. We had a pretty steady cycle for a while there.”

It was your turn to let him in silence, daring him to continue. Bait he didn’t seem to bite.

“What was your sister like?” his voice came out like a grumble.

“She was the opposite of me in nearly every way,” you met his eyes finally. “She hated the outdoors, hated learning anything new, and was always boy crazy.”

“Are you sure she’s the opposite of you?”

You furrowed your gaze into a glare just in time for him to shake his head and continue weaving the black cord back into a tidy column. It seems that you both have ways of keeping your hands occupied while you think, an odd nervous habit you both have in common.

“My dad would take us hiking to get away from our mom. She hated the woods and couldn’t go ten minutes in the snow without whining to go inside again. I only ever remember bickering with her over books or toys or clothes or boys. Just typical sister stuff,” a smile danced on your lips at the nostalgia. “I don’t know if it’d be more or less painful if we had a shit relationship.”

“It hurts just the same.”

“You’re probably right,” you lamented weakly. “But I think it’s our responsibility to live the life that they never got to have.”

There’s that sadness again. Not as hopeless and isolated, but still a heavy stone in your gut that crushes your appetite and swallows your joy. It’s more annoying than anything, like you’re supposed to be fine right now. Fed, socially sated, rested and with a successful workday behind you. So what’s this empty feeling in your chest?

“I just- I want to see the sunrise from my bedroom window,” your voice started to creak, tightening with another onslaught of emotions. “I want to sit in scented baths until my skin gets raw. I want to get stuck in traffic and wake up whenever I feel like it. I want to tend to a sprawling garden so fat chickadees can get drunk off the berries.”

Tears formed in your eyes again, blurring floral yellow wallpaper into a haze of muddy colours. A life of excitement and danger left you craving the simple things. The mundane, the predictable. So much action has left you void of a personality, of your wit and wonder that you once had. It’s not even fair to say ‘you’ll always crave what you don’t have’ because you’d never really liked this nomadic lifestyle with this task force to begin with. Exciting as it might be, it’s not what you signed up for. Every mission takes a chunk out of your soul, sapping you of your willpower.

“I miss worrying about shoddy phone chargers and running out of laundry detergent,” a weak laugh erupting from your throat shook loose tears free to stream down your cheeks. “I just want to feel normal and safe, somewhere I can explore my career without worrying about being in an enemy sniper's line of sight. I miss having something that looks at me like it loves me, depends on me. Even if it’s a fucking goldfish.”

Before you could make any sense of the movements, he was crawling on top of you. Time skipped and his hot mouth collided with yours, drawing you into a searing kiss. It felt like two galaxies colliding, your body heat hotter than ever, mixing and swirling as you desperately pulled one another closer. Hiccuping sobs and lapping tongues left you suddenly falling out of breath, too stubborn to relent despite your searing lungs. You just couldn’t get enough of one another’s skin, like every inch of yours needed to be wrapped up in his. Tears that streamed down your cheeks faded into obscurity. There wasn’t even a second of hesitation in lifting his mask either, a death sentence that could see you turned to stone like Medusa for all you know. Even if your eyelids fluttered open, you could only glimpse the side of his pale jaw, before he would hungrily lay claim to your attention. Meanwhile your hands found his shoulders, his neck, the back of his mask. Soft short hair from where he’d lifted the mask, sliding your fingertips across his scalp.

His hand cradled the back of your head, almost begging you not to go, and you clung to him like a branch in a windstorm. For all the bitter jabs and cold stares, he’s always felt safe. Not like you don’t feel safe around Soap or Gaz, but this is somehow a different kind of safe. A different kind of comfort from that which comes from a brotherly pep talk and a punch to the shoulder. He pries sinister thoughts from your mind with ease and stands patient vigil, no matter what jabs and insults you hurl his way. He feels like someone you wished you’d met years ago. The logic of why this was wrong was lost on you. Those rules said something along the lines of no kissing, but why? It didn’t click. There were other rules, but they too had been overwritten by carnal desire. How can something that feels so right be wrong—it’s a crime against nature. Hands that were once harsh and uncaring were gentle and warm, a sensation that had been entirely forgotten from decades of deprivation.

“We shouldn’t,” you gasp, fluttering neurons straining to recall your rules.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled into your mouth, pulling your lips back against his.

Being told to shut up never sounded so sweet. A sudden advent of heart-racing movement and crashing kisses left your searing lungs heaving for oxygen. Your head kicked back to gasp for fresh air, yet his kisses only trailed down your neck, pecking and sucking at sensitive skin. The sensation of his mouth on you sent goosebumps across your skin. A different kind of munition fuelled this encounter, something more than lust. When breath finally returned, you invited him from where he was kissing your collarbone to meet you again. For a second, you caught a glimpse of pink lips and hazy brown eyes before he was on you; butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

In the heat of the exchange, it was only natural for him to reach to angle his stiffened self to your entrance, your bodies yearned for one another in a way that’s only akin to starvation and fresh bounty. Even the bedframe groaned from the strain. His palm slides to yours, and your fingers intertwine, slick heat between your palms creating a welding bond that binds you to him. This time was different from any other. You put your whole body into every motion, bucking and grinding your hips into his and meeting yearning resistance.

It took your whole body weight to plant your knee beside him, lifting to sit astride him without daring to part from tasting his lips. Gravity urged you closer where his hands weren’t, though that wasn’t much. You could cup his face in your hands as he lay below you, trapped under your spell with his heaving chest, lifting you off the bed with every breath. Part of you was so terribly tempted to rip the mask off entirely, suddenly questioning its existence entirely. His chest is so warm, his hands leave sparks on your skin as they trail down your spine, across your shoulders, caressing your rump. The soft warmth could make you sob, your captured Nemean lion that you couldn't dare let out of your sight. Every passing millisecond you were over him like this felt like a gift of power that emboldened your spirit, resting on his chest feeling ragged breaths and every one of his muscles shift to touch you more.

Your dominance was short-lived, he wasn’t playing around. He quickly pivoted back over you and planted his palms on either upturned wrist, wrapping your legs around him to anchor him near. It was worth a shot. You both tend to fight for control, thirsty for power but seemingly delighting in giving it up. He, however, tends to have a more commanding presence. He’ll let you have your fun so long as he’s still in control; you’d be a fool to think your shoddy knots could actually bind him to that chair. Splintering that chair and fraying thick cords would be as easy to him as swatting a wasp off fruit. The thought spurred you to bite down on his tongue, only lightly, but enough to ignite a soft laugh from his chest. Even the corners of his lips bent into a smile against yours, dragging you closer with a calloused palm on your spine.

“You unman me, Lua,” he choked out in a bassy grumble.

That made your eyelids flutter and stomach churn, now more alight than ever. Only you could have this control over him, only you make him shudder and whimper and groan and howl. And he makes you feel so alive. So safe and paradoxically dangerous in a sick and twisted cocktail that swirls in your soul. He’s always had a grip on you, no matter how much you might try to bury it. Rules slip into obscurity, finding yourself drunk on body heat and the scent of his skin.

“Come on, Daddy,” the words poured from your throat. They surprised you yet felt so natural.

Part of you cringed at the use of that word, something you’d seen in one of those $2 erotic novels in thrift stores. There was always this part of you that worried that you’d never hold up to his dangerous lifestyle or any of the other sexual encounters he mentioned, facing some sort of impostor syndrome. But his reaction was only comparable to explosive. Every motion, more intense, heavier breaths gasping at your breath, his grapple over you constricted, even his fingernails dug into the sides of your neck. It’s like you’d struck a nerve. Or the jackpot. He parted your kiss briefly, only to glance down to align himself with your entrance. More butterflies, another glimpse of pink lips through your hazy eyes, slick and parted.

“Say that again,” he panted.

Fingernails you’d gnawed down to the nub from stress rake uselessly at his shoulder blades like a declawed cat. You couldn’t help but yelp when he pushed himself into you, and his hovering lips only hesitated to connect with yours to listen to your mewling. Something in you felt like this was something more than sex.

“Please, Daddy,“ your voice squeaked under the strain. “I want you, Simon.”

Where you were at first skeptical of his response, that word has had such a profound impact on him, like you’d just unlatched some spring-loaded desire that he’d withheld for decades. You could feel him in your chest as his thrusts grew more intense, rattling your insides. Better yet, you could even hear the sweet sounds of your sloppy coupling over your shared gasps. It’s like for a second he forgot about his mask, seemingly drunk on lust, lucky that your eyes rolled up when his passion grew. Where you’d come to expect brash and often harsh sex, this felt so much more gentle and forgiving. Part of you was wistful of that brutality, finding it exciting, but a more prominent part of your psyche was uniquely parched of this kind of affection. Together, you made a knot of limbs and fingertips, two lovers intertwined in a void between space and time found to be precisely located within a shitty German motel.

“You’re mine, only mine… mine… mine,” he trailed off as if in a trance. “Hmm? ” He hummed, requesting your agreement to the proposition.

“Yes- yes, sir,” the voice in your throat came out like a whimper.

Your lips connected again, only briefly, weakly linked as the majority of your brain’s computing power went into grinding into his pace. He let out a deeply held sigh, more dishevelled than you’d ever seen him before. It lit your soul alight. You could never get tired of the feeling of his cock within you. So warm and hard and necessary, the other puzzle piece that fits into yours. The rhythm was a slow and searing thing, a steady tempo at which he stoked the growing fire within you. Your back arched to take more of him; he couldn’t seem to stop himself from biting the side of your neck, marks be damned.

There were moments where the primary goal wasn’t to find sexual gratification from each other’s body; it’d become more about finding emotional security in the entanglement with another living, breathing person. Sometimes the slowing pace reflected that, even when your chest burned just as hot. He smells like chocolate icing and the sweet pistachio lotion you’d swept over his skin. It’s a marvel that you could orgasm again, crying out his name as he took you hard. You knew these athletes had superhuman cardio capabilities, but you’d assumed it wouldn’t apply to this context. His warm palm slid over your cheek as he spilled himself within you, groaning into your mouth as he flinched, rigid and potent motions demanding control over you for a few brilliant moments where the stars aligned. He’d become your lifeline, your lighthouse that commands you back to shore when you’re lost at sea.

Relaxed muscles lay heavy and warm, emanating a lingering ember of heat from your chest that mingled with his body heat. Spent and weary, he didn’t retract, neither did you. An overused sex drive left your muscles flinching, fingers twitching as they intertwined with his. After gasping kisses eventually graduated to tender pecks, he fell to rest beside you, but you were still unwilling to release your grip on him. Your temple rested on his collarbone just in time for you to catch his mask being pulled below his chin. His heart still held a steady rhythm in his broad chest, surprisingly slow and calm. That’s not fair. Sheets dragged over exposed skin made you shudder at the tender act, finding tranquillity in broad arms holding you fast at his side. Everything felt so in tune, the same tempo, same melody. Two different instruments, often battered and bruised, make a beautiful song when you’re together. Time slipped by like warm honey, you wouldn’t be surprised if you fell asleep against his shoulder. So this is what it feels like to be held.

In an instant, he shot up from his position; it would’ve made you flinch if you weren’t so relaxed. Your eyes strained against the light, having been closed in sleepy bliss. He was a blur of movement and fabric, before you could even blink you heard that familiar sound of his buckle. The best you could do was lay placid in the sheets as your lifeline receded, blankly following him flick the door’s lock open with a click just in time for him to swipe that cracked phone into his pocket.

The door didn’t slam, there was no stomping. He had too much emotional control for that. But it didn’t mean you couldn’t see a look of bitter spite and, of all things, panic in his eyes. He was gone. Not a word or anything of the sort. A kind of coldness you’d come to know all too well. It’s expected, really. This is the path you’ve created for yourself. You have to walk it. He was gone so quickly that the only proof of the entire encounter being real was that stupid yellow gift box he’d left, a birthday present that felt more bitter than bittersweet.

You’d made the mistake of fixating on an unavailable man. And look where it’s got you. It’s not even worth dwelling on what you’d done wrong because you’re already well aware. It’s obvious. The ground rules you’d established were set up for a reason, rules that you’d broken. When you strained to find that dinky flip phone in your pack, you found that you'd hemorrhaged valuable body heat trapped within the sheets, now painfully alone and chilled. Apparently Laswell had you on some flight in the early morning— a text that interrupted your blank stare at the ceiling summoned you to the tarmac in a few short hours. Off to the races once again.

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