LetsFly

Lovely, Terrible Things [Arista & LetsFly]

Cal was seated on the concrete floor of the kennel, Stella's head resting comfortably in his lap. He stroked her velvety ears, admiring the sheen of her coarse silver fur. It was clear what needed to be done. Pulling out his phone, he dispatched a quick message to Marcus, instructing him to clear his schedule for the day. Work could wait; there were essentials to be bought: dog food, toys, a water dispenser, treats, and everything else Stella could possibly want or need. He was putty in her paws.

The manager's return broke their quiet communion. "Well, that didn't take long!" she observed with a fond smile, "Should I draw up the adoption papers?"

Standing, Cal's response was immediate. "Absolutely. I'm not leaving until I can take her with me." The manager's smile broadened, pleased by the swift decision. She motioned for him to follow her to the front for the necessary paperwork, and to provide a leash for Stella.

As he turned to leave, a soft whine echoed in the kennel. Cal paused, turning back to offer one more reassuring scratch under Stella's chin. "I'm sorry, old girl," he said warmly, "I'll be right back. And then no one will be walking out on you, ever again."

With that, he made his way with the manager back through the kennels. "We have a customer in the grooming station," she warned him, "So you may end up getting sprayed with some water, watch out." Cal didn't mind at all. Pristine as his attire may appear, he'd never been opposed to getting his hands dirty. There were far worse things than a bit of water. How many bloodstains had he scrubbed from white dress-shirts over the years?

Passing through the grooming station, his attention was captured by a soap-covered, sable-coated German shepherd, receiving a thorough grooming. "Well, hello," he gushed, momentarily distracted by the beauty of the animal. Perhaps he'd already found a friend for Stella. He turned toward the nearby couch, where the owner sat. It was a young woman, with light hair and--

Oh, my God.

"Ana," he blurted, the name falling from his lips before he could catch it. The groomer made a confused face. The room was still with awkward tension. He cleared his throat, regaining his composure with a soft chuckle, his eyes moving between the dog and the woman. "German shepherd, Russian woman. Let me guess, you drive an Italian car?" He grinned at his own joke, his usual charisma restored. "How about a French lunch? There's a lovely little bistro nearby that's dog-friendly. We could make a playdate of it." He restrained the urge to allow his gaze to rake over Ana, who was somehow even more gorgeous in casual attire. His eyes held her gaze firmly, his expression earnest -- if not a bit pleading. This may be his only chance. Two chance encounters in a row, there wasn't a way in hell he could count on a third. "My treat, of course," he added, not trying to hide the tinge of desperation in his voice.

The manager, momentarily forgotten, watched the exchange with a mix of curiosity and confusion, a silent observer.

Cal's thoughts drifted to Stella, waiting for him, but this small detour was worth the delay. Juggling the attention between two pretty girls was nothing new to him, despite how urgently he wanted to get Stella out of this place.

Cal Crawford was not a man to let an opportunity pass him by.

Oathbreakers [Skyrim RP] [LoadedGuns & LetsFly]

As Lyra stirred from the depths of her slumber, she found herself ensnared in the clutches of a nightmare. Images of an ancient ruins bathed in moonlight flickered before her mind's eye, the same ones from the vision -- accompanied by the elusive symbols that danced in the darkness, taunting her with their incomprehensibility.

But the true terror came when Finrod's visage contorted into a mask of rage, his eyes ablaze with an unfathomable fury. "Traitor!" he hissed to her, the venom in his voice sending shivers down her spine, before he lunged at her, blade drawn, and plunged it into her chest.

With a strangled gasp, Lyra jolted awake, her heart pounding against her ribcage like a frantic drumbeat. The soft hues of dawn cast a soothing glow over the campsite, but the remnants of her nightmare lingered like a sinister shadow, refusing to be banished by the light of day.

Her eyes darted around in search of Finrod, and upon spotting him, she let out a frustrated grunt and hurled a pebble in his direction, striking him squarely on the arm. "You were supposed to wake me up for second watch," she growled, her anger genuine. What good would they be if they couldn't even keep to a simple watch schedule?

Scrambling out of her bedroll, Lyra rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her expression etched with frustration and lingering fear. She hastily fathered her bow, her fingers trembling slightly as she checked its string for tension.

"I need to clear my head," she muttered, "And kill us some breakfast while I'm at it." With that, she set off into the surrounding trees, her steps heavy with unresolved emotions. Though the campsite was small and confined, and she couldn't get far without going back down the mountain, she needed the space to distance herself from the remnants of her dream and the disconcerting image of Finrod's wrathful gaze.

Lovely, Terrible Things [Arista & LetsFly]

Cal stepped out of the i8, the sun glinting off his impeccably polished oxfords. Today, he was the picture of philanthropy, his casual every-guy clothing hugging his strong physique just right, and he knew just how to make his entrance at the humane society an event in and of itself. The crowd of news vans and cameras turned their lenses toward him, eager to capture the moment. He flashed them his most charming smile, the picture of ease and confidence.

"Mr. Crawford! Can you tell us about the gala last night?" a reporter called out, microphone extended.

Cal turned toward the voice, his demeanor calm and collected. "Last night was a phenomenal success. We've managed to gather record contributions, all for a cause close to my heart." He brought a hand to his heart for effect, his voice smooth and assured. "It's not just about the money; it's about making a tangible difference. These donations will go a long way in supporting the incredible work done here."

Another journalist pushed through the throng, eager to get her question in. "What inspires you to support animal welfare, specifically? Do you have a rescue dog at home?"

That, he didn't. Though the idea wasn't terrible. "There's something undeniably pure about helping those who can't ask for it themselves," Cal responded, his gaze sweeping over the assembled press. "Animals give us unconditional love and companionship. It's our responsibility to return that favor, isn't it?"

As the interview wrapped up, Cal made his way inside the building, the clamor or reporters fading behind him. The interior was quiet compared to the spectacle outside, with posters of adoptable animals adorning the walls and young volunteers moving through the space with a sense of purpose. He could sense their exhaustion, yet admired their dedication.

Approaching the front desk, he met the manager, a woman in her 50s with a weary smile. As he handed over the donations, his charm surfaced effortlessly. "Your dedication is what makes all of this possible," he said, his voice warm, "Without people like you, where would these animals be?"

The manager blushed at the flattery, clearly taken aback by the attention. "Thank you, Mr. Crawford. It's not often we get support of this magnitude."

As they spoke, Cal's thoughts drifted, once more, to Ana. The memory of her smile seemed to haunt him in a way nothing else could -- not all of the great and terrible things he'd seen in his short life. But he was unlikely to be seeing her again any time soon, and the thought of long-term companionship had given way to a new idea. "Could I take a moment to see the dogs? All this has made me consider adding to my family."

Delighted, the manager led him through the facility, past a deserted grooming area and into the heart of the kennels. The sight of the creatures, each with their own story of abandonment and loss, tugged at Cal's heartstrings. He had always loved animals, he'd simply never had time for them in his busy life. But nowadays, his role at work -- in both of his major endeavors -- was a bit more hands-off, with tasks delegated and everything working like a well-oiled machine. Perhaps he didn't have to spend his bachelor days alone after all.

He made his way through the line slowly, pausing at one kennel when he saw her -- a blue-grey pitbull, with wide-set eyes that resembled a small hippo. She wasn't as despondent as the others; their was a playful tilt to her head, and she wagged her tail happily when she saw him. Cal knew in that instant that she was the one.

A bell chimed, signaling a new arrival at the front door, and the manager excused herself after letting Cal into the kennel with the dog. Cal stepped in, kneeling beside her and allowing her to sniff his hand before she rubbed against it while he scratched behind her ears. "What do you say, old girl? Want to come home with me?" he asked softly, his voice a gentle rumble.

The dog nuzzled his hand, her tail wagging in a display of affection. A name pricked at the corner of his mind instantaneously, and he said it aloud to see how it felt. "Pearl," he said, and the dog tilted its head with a curious expression. "Luna?" he asked, and the dog didn't respond, remaining indifferent before him. "Maggie. Bella. Lola." Still nothing. Hmm, she was a tough one. "Stella?" At that, the pitbull let out a playful bark, raising to her feet expectantly. Cal laughed. "Alright. Stella it is."

Lovely, Terrible Things [Arista & LetsFly]

As Cal's consciousness slowly emerged from the depths of sleep, he found himself grappling with the remnants of a dream -- fleeting images of a beautiful Russian woman in a gold dress. The dress on the floor. Shared laughter, clinking wine glasses. But like sand through his fingers, the details slipped from his grasp, leaving longing in their wake. With a sigh, Cal silenced the blaring alarm, resigning himself to the reality of another day.

It was a Saturday, a day of leisure for most, but for Cal, it was just another day of work. He pushed himself away from the bed of his suite, rubbing tiredness from his eyes and tugging at his beard as if trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Quickly donning fitness attire, he stuck a toothbrush in his mouth and swiped through his text messages, ignoring most of them as he grabbed his gym bag and headed to the hotel's fitness room.

Along the way, he exchanged pleasantries with the hotel staff and any guests who recognized him, his charismatic charm never faltering even in the early hours of the morning. In the fitness room, he threw himself into a vigorous run on the treadmill, the rhythmic pounding of his feet serving as a counterpoint to the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in his mind.

During a break between sprints, he glanced up at the TV mounted on the wall, and saw a headline flashing in bold red letters: "Billionaire Dead in Arms-Deal Gone Wrong." A sense of satisfaction washed over him as he realized that everything had unfolded exactly as planned. Charles Vanderbuilt was no more, and Cal's carefully orchestrated plan had come to fruition.

After showering and grabbing a quick breakfast, Cal dressed in more casual attire -- a fitted t-shirt and dark jeans -- before he would make his way into the city. At the front desk, he gathered the collections from the charity gala the night before, intent on personally delivering the proceeds to the Los Angeles Humane Society.

Normally, such tasks would be delegated to an assistant, but this year's record contributions warranted Cal's personal touch. He anticipated the presence of the press at the humane society, eager to spin a humanitarian angle on the story, and he intended to be front and center in the resulting coverage.

Slipping into his sleek BMW i8, Cal let the GPS guide him to his destination. As he pulled up outside the humane society building, his assumption was confirmed -- several news vans were parked outside, their satellite dishes pointed skyward in anticipation of the day's events. With a sense of satisfaction, Cal stepped out of the car, ready to bask in the spotlight once more.

Lovely, Terrible Things [Arista & LetsFly]

Cal navigated the familiar corridors of the basement, his mind still consumed by thoughts of Ana. Her name danced on his lips, tinged with her accent -- had it been Russian? He wasn't sure he'd heard it correctly. Lost in thought, he nearly collided with someone once again, a young man hurrying in the opposite direction, but managed to stop himself just in time.

It was the tech lead. "Danny," Cal addressed him, pulling himself back to the present. "You called me?"

Danny, a nerdy type in his early twenties, nodded eagerly. "Yes sir," he replied, a hint of excitement in his voice. "I just wanted to let you know that the Vanderbuilt operation went off without a hitch. We used advanced encryption techniques to ensure there's no way to trace it back to you or Circus Corp."

A wave of relief washed over Cal at the news, tempered by a twinge of frustration. This was the news that was worth interupting his meeting with Ana? He took a deep breath, keeping his cool. "Thanks, Danny. You've done good work. Make sure you and the crew get some food and enjoy yourselves."

With that, Cal made his way past Danny and into the room where the rest of the tech team were wrapping up their work, packing away computers and modems. He exchanged polite nods with them before heading over to Marcus, who was waiting on the other side of the room with a puzzled expression.

"Hey Boss," Marcus greeted him with a smile, "I gotta say, I'm surprised to see you down here. I thought you'd be out chasing tail by now."

Cal wasn't amused by the assumption. He was about to tell Marcus all about the woman, Ana, but he hesitated. He was used to telling Marcus all about his little games when it came to women, and he wasn't sure why this one would be any different, but something felt wrong about it. Perhaps because he had nothing to brag about yet. Instead, he adopted an air of mystery. "I've got my eye on one," he replied cryptically. "Bringing her to the rooftop. Don't wait up."

With a wink to Marcus, Cal made his exit, ascending the stairs back to the main floor of the hotel. Glancing back into the ballroom, he saw that the auction was in full swing, the guests enjoying themselves, his presence no longer a necessity. Satisfied that his absence would go unnoticed, he hurried to the front desk, leaning in to whisper a request to the concierge. She smiled knowingly, and he slipped her a fifty-dollar bill.

Later, on the rooftop, Cal paced anxiously, his impatience growing with each passing moment. Where was Ana? He had set the scene for a romantic evening, complete with champagne and roses, but she was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she just took a while to find the rooftop access stairway. Finally, the door creaked open behind him, and he turned expectantly, only to be met with disappointment.

It wasn't Ana who stepped out, but another woman -- Claire, as he recalled. A gorgeous blonde, her presence commanding attention as she approached him with a knowing smile.

"I thought I might find you up here," she purred, running a finger up his lapel. "I think it's time we had a little reunion, don't you?"

Cal grimaced. Despite the temptation, he surprised even himself when he declined. "Not tonight, Claire," he replied, his tone firm but polite. He couldn't deny the pull of familiarity, the memories of their previous encounter a few months ago, but tonight was different. Tonight, he longed for something more.

With a sigh, he bid Claire farewell, leaving her to enjoy the cheesecake and champagne as he made his way back inside. Tonight, he would return to his suite alone, his thoughts consumed by the mysterious woman in the gold dress.

Lovely, Terrible Things [Arista & LetsFly]

I changed up the hosting site -- they should hopefully work now! The AI is a bit limited, so sorry they look so ~generic~ lol but I tried xD

Lovely, Terrible Things [Arista & LetsFly]

Oh no, really? D: how strange! I'll see if I can fix them and I'll let you know, how odd that they'd only show up for me!

Lovely, Terrible Things [Arista & LetsFly]

Generated some AI illustrations bc I'm loving the vibe and wanted visuals of some of these awesome scenes ^_^

images

Oathbreakers [Skyrim RP] [LoadedGuns & LetsFly]

As Finrod began to weave his tale, Lyra's exhaustion crept up on her like a gentle embrace, soothing her troubled mind. She listened intently, the cadence of his voice mingling with the crackling of the fire and the whisper of the night breeze.

With each word, she felt herself drifting further into a state of tranquility, the weight of the world gradually lifting from her weary shoulders. The story painted vivid images in her mind, transporting her to a realm where adventure and love intertwined amidst the rugged landscapes of Skyrim.

As the tale unfolded, Lyra's eyelids grew heavy, and a sense of calm washed over her. The warmth of the fire and the comforting presence of Finrod enveloped her like a protective cloak, banishing the shadows of her past.

And then, just as she was on the cusp of slumber, Finrod's voice transformed, morphing into the gentle timbre of her father's. It was a bittersweet moment, filled with longing and nostalgia, yet also imbued with a sense of peace.

With a soft sigh, Lyra succumbed to the embrace of sleep, her dreams filled with echoes of Finrod's story and the comforting presence of her father. For the first time in years, she drifted off peacefully, cradled in the arms of tranquility.

Lovely, Terrible Things [Arista & LetsFly]

As the lights dimmed and the chatter in the ballroom subsided, Cal made his way behind the stage that had been set up in the back of the ballroom. His heart pounded a bit, with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. With a quick glance at his phone, he checked for any updates on the Vanderbuilt operation, his impatience growing with each passing moment. The success of tonight's endeavor hinged on the swift and seamless execution of their plan, and Cal could feel the weight of responsibility pressing down upon him. By the time Charles Vanderbuilt got his food and sat down, he would surely search for his phone and notice it was gone.

Just as his anxiety threatened to overwhelm him, Marcus appeared through the back door. Their eyes met across the room, and with a simple nod, Marcus made his way toward Vanderbuilt's seat, slipping the phone discreetly to the table, where Charles was sure to believe he had left it all along. Cal breathed a sigh of relief, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips. The worst was over -- now all that remained was to re-wire the transaction, and ensure their tracks were covered.

Stepping up to the podium, Cal cleared his throat and addressed the assembled guests, his voice ringing out with practiced gravitas. "Ladies and gentleman, thank you for joining us this evening," he began, his eyes scanning the room, "I am honored to welcome you to our annual fundraiser in support of..." he paused, checking his notes to ensure he had the details correct, before continuing, "The Los Angeles Humane Society. The work that the Humane Society does is truly commendable, and it is a cause that is near and dear to my heart. Every contribution you make tonight will go toward providing shelter, care, and love to animals in need." He added a note that each of their tables were adorned with a gallery of adoptable animals, as well as adoption forms.

As he spoke, Cal couldn't help but feel a twinge of cynicism at the sight of the wealthy patrons before him. Not a single one of these purebred assholes would be seen dead with a mixed-breed dog or some orange cat that had been found in a dumpster. But he pushed aside his reservations, focusing instead on the task at hand -- extracting as much money from their deep pockets as possible.

Finishing his speech, Cal stepped down from the podium, allowing the next speaker to take over. As the auction of art pieces from his personal collection began -- all of the proceeds would be donated -- he discreetly made his way through the crowd, politely waving when he was addressed, his thoughts consumed by the woman he'd seen earlier. He hadn't seen her amidst the crowd, but with the lights low, it was difficult to make out faces. Despite his usual collected confidence, he was feeling a bit overwhelmed. It had only been an hour, and yet he had exhausted himself with all of the pleasantries and fake niceties that these people seemed to require. He needed some air, and was excusing himself out of a side door, turning to make his way up the stairs to the roof, when he suddenly collided with someone. A handbag dropped between them He was already apologizing. "I'm terribly sorry," he started, turning toward whomever he'd assaulted.

The woman in the gold dress.

A surge of excitement welled in his chest, and he stooped to pick up the bag. "Can't have you bending over in a dress like that," he purred, "Wouldn't want to rip anything." He tightened his grip on the bag a bit as he handed it to her, ensuring she felt the split second of resistance before he released it. "I don't believe we've met before," he said coolly, his eyes lingering on her. "I'm Calvin." He extended a hand, just as his phone erupted a shrill ring from his pocket. He grimaced, holding a finger up apologetically, and pulled it out quickly to see his tech team downstairs was calling him. Damn it. "I'm so sorry to be rude, but I have to run off," he said, quickly pulling a business card from his jacket pocket and scribbling something on the back of it, handing it to her. "I'd love it if we could run into each other again, later. Meet me for a drink?"

On the card was, simply, "6th floor". According to any building plans for this hotel, no such thing existed -- it was a 5 floor hotel, not including the basement. There was no button for it on the elevator. But Cal figured that if this girl were worth the time and effort he so desperately wanted to put into her, among other things, she would figure it out. He brought her hand, the one he'd passed the card into, to his lips briefly, before striding off in the direction of the stairs. "I will see you again," he promised, looking back briefly, a bit of pain welling in his chest. God, he hoped he would.