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creatur3featur3 · 5 months ago

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Dream come True?

A/N: ughhh i love this one, very silly and sweet Billie, direct continuation of the first part- psst go read that first to understand the story! anyways enjoy babes 😘

NOT proof read, may have some weird sentences here and there and untrue information!!

warnings: none

word count: 1.5k

summary: Billie makes you sorta 100% jello during her show

“Wait, wait, what happened? Did you get the tickets?!” Amber’s voice was high-pitched with excitement as soon as she answered, cutting through the panic-stricken rush of words spilling out of your mouth.

“Amber, you won’t believe me, but-” you paused, heart still hammering in your chest, trying to make sense of the unreal situation that had just unfolded in front of you, “Billie Eilish... was just in my mom’s bakery. Like, she was right there, sitting down, talking to me…”

“Wait, hold on,” Amber cut in, her tone now serious with disbelief, “Did you just say Billie Eilish was in your bakery?”

“Yes!” You could barely contain the excitement in your voice, your hands shaking as you paced around the empty bakery. "I was just making croissants, and she walks in like it's no big deal, like she's just another person. I didn’t even recognize her at first, and then I thought, ‘No way,’ but—then it was really her!”

Amber let out a loud gasp on the other end of the phone. “Wait, did you talk to her?! Did she get pastries?”

“Yeah, I told her the pastries weren’t ready yet, and she sat down and... we talked. And then—get this—she offered me tickets to her show. Like, VIP tickets. She said she'd get me up front. And I almost said no!” You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it now. “I was going to turn her down because I thought it was too much, but then I just—she was serious. She’s so... chill. And then she left, and I didn't even get a picture or anything—”

“Oh my god, wait.” Amber’s voice was a mix of awe and jealousy. “Are you telling me that you almost didn’t take the tickets? What’s wrong with you, are you trying to lose your mind?! You know how rare that is, right? Billie Eilish just offered you VIP tickets, front row, probably on the house, and you didn’t snap a picture?! I would’ve died, Y/N! DIED! You could've been in the same room with her! You could've had an actual conversation and—”

“I was in shock!” you shot back, pacing faster now, trying to organize your thoughts. “I didn’t even know what to say to her! It was Billie Eilish, Amber. She’s a literal goddess. And I was standing there like an idiot with flour all over my hands, trying to act normal.”

Amber was quiet for a second, clearly processing what you had just told her. Then she sighed, her voice much softer now. “Okay, well, it sounds like you really had a moment, Y/N. I mean, she must’ve liked you if she’s offering you that kind of access. I think she saw how genuine you were. That’s not something everyone gets to experience.”

You paused, leaning against the counter, letting Amber’s words sink in. She was right. Billie didn’t have to do that. She could’ve easily gone to any other bakery, or at least pretended to be too busy or too famous to care. But she didn’t. She was real. And she seemed to see you as just another person in the crowd, not a screaming fan who would lose their mind over the chance to meet her.

“I think... I think I'm still in shock,” you muttered.

“Well, you should be!” Amber laughed. “But seriously, Y/N, you have to go now. You can’t just let that opportunity slip away.”

“Of course I’m going,” you replied quickly. “I mean... how could I not?”

“And when you meet her again,” Amber said, almost with a warning tone, “You better have a good outfit. You cannot look like you just rolled out of bed again.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll figure it out,” you said, already thinking about what you’d wear. “I can't believe this is real. She... she liked my bakery, Amber. She said she might come back. What if she actually does?”

“Then you're gonna need to be ready,” Amber said with a laugh. “Just make sure you don’t fall apart when you see her again, okay?”

“I won’t, I won’t. I swear,” you muttered, your heart still racing, but now it was a different kind of racing. A kind of exhilaration that only came from knowing you had just crossed paths with someone you'd only ever dreamed of meeting.

“And for the record,” Amber added with a smirk in her voice, “You have to tell me everything—EVERYTHING—that happens at the show. Don’t leave a single detail out.”

“I won’t,” you promised, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling inside you. “This is going to be insane.”

---

The day of the concert finally arrived, and you could hardly focus at work. It had been a blur of checking the time and watching the clock tick closer and closer to the moment when you’d finally be standing in front of Billie Eilish, at one of her sold-out shows, no longer just a fan on the outside, but someone she had actually invited.

When the time came, you found yourself standing at the entrance of the venue, security scanning your pass with an eyebrow raised at the VIP badge that had your name on it. They nodded you through without question. Your heart thumped against your ribcage as you walked through the corridors, past all the other fans who were waiting for the doors to open, and you found yourself at the front, where the stage was. And there, standing beside it—was Billie. She was chatting with the crew, her black hair falling in soft waves around her face, dressed in the kind of casual outfit that still made her look like she had stepped out of a magazine.

Your breath caught in your throat as she spotted you, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Y/N you came!” she smiled as she walked up to you and pulled you in for a warm hug, many your breath hitch involuntarily.

You stood there for a moment, frozen in shock, as Billie Eilish—your idol, the very person who had left you speechless in your mom’s bakery wrapped her arms around you.

Her embrace was warm, genuine, as if she hadn't just turned the world upside down by offering you VIP tickets. She smelled faintly of something sweet but rich, like coffee and vanilla, and for a second, you couldn't believe this was real.

“I—uh—yeah!” you stammered, trying to play it cool but knowing you were failing miserably. “I, uh, can’t believe this is actually happening.”

Billie laughed, a low, melodic sound that made your heart skip. “I can’t believe you almost didn’t take the tickets. You’re fucking crazy. But I’m glad you did. It’s good to see you again.”

You felt like you were on another planet, standing beside her, watching her move so effortlessly between the fans and the crew like she wasn’t a global superstar. “I—um—wow, you look amazing,” you managed to say, the words almost tripping over themselves in your mind before they came out.

Billie was in a dark blue jersey with the number “80” in big bold letters on the front- she had her iconic glasses on and her baggy shorts as usual- but fuck it didn't make it any less hot to see it in person.

Billie gave you a playful wink. “You too, though. You’ve got that whole ‘I like concerts a little too much’ vibe going for you. I dig it.”

The compliment made your face flush, looking down at your own merch, your cheeks naturally coming more red as you met Billie’s pale blue eyes. “Thanks. I, uh… I didn’t really have money to buy any new merch so, I got some of my old stuff,” you said, motioning to your outfit, her “Happier than ever” album image plastered on the black shirt and ripped jeans mixed with a few rings and your dangling star earrings. You’d hoped it looked casually stylish enough, but compared to the crowd around you, you felt like an awkward fish out of water.

“You look great,” Billie reassured you.

You tried to ignore the heat buzzing in your chest as she turned and ran away, probably having to get ready for the show, and you didn't mind, you were finally able to feel what it was like to be at a real, huge concert. As the lights dimmed the arena erupted with cheers as Billie popped up on stage, people were screaming in your ears the whole time but you didn't care, all you could do was watch Billie as she danced across the stage without a care in the damn world.

The show went on for a while before the song Billie had been featured on, starting playing- one of your favorites… Guess.

Billie jumped out onto the stage again, the song playing as she sang, everything felt absolutely perfect, the lights, the bass of the arena that made you feel your damn insides moving, everything.

Then? Billie looked straight at you, smiling slyly as she sung the best part of the song-

I wanna

Try it, bite it, lick it, spit it

pull it to the side and get all up in it

kiss it, bite it, can i fit it?

Charli likes boys but she knows I'd hit it.

god damn, you would've combusted right then and there when she added on that little

Charli call me if your with it

mouthing your name instead of Charli’s when singing the line.

god damnit.

#billie eilish #billie #fanfic #billie eilish fanfic #fem reader #part 2

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bonny-kookoo · 2 years ago

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Jungkook

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 [Part 2]

Everyone sometimes needs that special push- that one good reason- to break out of old shells, walls and habits, and make that change.

Tags/Warnings: Non-Idol Jungkook, Dog Hybrid!Reader, former criminal!Jungkook, mentions of past neglect/abuse, reader has some pretty bad psychological problems (OCD, Anxiety, Selective mutism, hints at an eating disorder), hypersomnia, road to recovery, hurt and lots of comfort, angst, Jungkook has some problems with aggression and swears a lot, more TBA in future chapters

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: You can have early access to this and other selected fics on my Patreon!

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

It's right where he thought it might be.

You're basically drowning in the fabric of his sweater, but he's also never seen you so visibly calm during sleep. He can't even be mad about it- even though he usually does get rather irritated about his own clothes being taken by others.

He hates it. But for some reason, if it's you, he doesn't mind.

In fact, he's got to admit that you look cute like this. "We'll take a small walk to the park with the dog hybrids today. They need their time outside." Hana informs him as he puts the card hanging from the red string around his neck, so staff knows who he is. "They're all ready at the front, so you can go and check in with Yoha." Jungkook furrows his brows.

"What about her?" he asks, pointing to you who's still napping in the corner you're usually found in.

"She doesn't tag along." Hana says, as if he should know that. "She's not mentally fit for trips like that."

"I mean, on paper." Jungkook says, almost scoffing. "But like, did you ask her?"

"No, because she never comes along." She says rather defensively now. "Jungkook please, we know her better than you. Just stay here if you don't want to come along, but don't try and lecture me or anyone else here who's worked with her and other hybrids for years." She scolds.

But it seems like she doesn't know Jungkook.

Walking over to you, he's careful not to touch you, well aware that it could freak you out especially if you're asleep.

Doesn't know you, he scoffs to himself. He knows you better than her it seems, that's for sure.

"Hey." he tries, but you're sleeping too deep. "Hey, puppy. Wake up." he demands again, and now he can notice your ears moving, eyes opening after a few seconds, until his eyes widen at the sigh. You're smiling. Your tail is wagging.

You look genuinely happy.

"Hey there." he says, unable to hide his own smile either. "Hana said we're going to the park. You wanna come along?" he wonders, and he can see for a second that you're hesitating. "It's okay if you don't. No hard feelings. Just thought, you know, I should ask." he adds on, when you slowly sit up, playing with the strings of your sweatpants.

Then, you point at your shoes.

"Oh fuck, yeah, I forgot!" he shoots up, running to his bag where he pulls out another plastic bag, before running back to you. "I bought them a size smaller cause those you have seemed to big, but if you wear like, I don't know, socks or some shit in them they might fit." he explains, before pulling out some slip-in chelsea boots with almost no heel. Your eyes are like dinner plates at the sight. "Would be a good chance to try them out, no?" he wonders, nodding towards the small crowd of dog hybrids at the front, Yoha already counting everyone it seems.

So much for 'she doesn't ever come along', he angrily thinks.

And then, you pull on his sweater to get his attention. "Hm?" he wonders, just for you to hesitantly grab his sleeve. "I'll stay with you if that's what you're scared of. And we can go back at any moment." he reassures.

And that's what seems to make it work for you, because you move to slip into your new boots, before you get up and grab your coat from the hangers close by. He wants to say something to the staff-

But he composes himself, bringing you along to the front where Yoha and Hana already wait.

"Here." Hana says, giving him a yellow reflective.. Leash? "It's mandatory for her. I'm sorry, but without it-"

"Yeah yeah fucking protocol crap, I know." he grumbles more or less to himself, snatching the leash from her hands before he carefully clips it onto your collar. He cringes at the sight, hates it, and he hates it even more that somewhere in the backside of the logical part in his brain, he understands it.

He also comforts himself with the fact that you seem perfectly fine with the arrangement. It gives you a sense of security, equal as if holding onto his hand but without physical contact. You're skittish, still very much scared, but walking close to him seems to calm you down enough to make it work.

He didn't think you'd genuinely play at the park like the others do, and you don't- but that's fine.

The fact that you're here, that you're outside and at least attempting to find your way back into life away from your little bubble you've created shows him that you're not a lost case at all. A bit of work, and you could surely be adopted by someone nice who looks past all those issues. But somehow, the thought of you living with someone else makes him upset.

He knows he's not a good fit for someone like you.

He's talked to his best friend about it the night prior. It's a lot of responsibility already to live with a regular hybrid- but you're special needs. And considering his past mistakes and criminal record, there's simply no way to file for emotional support or therapy assistance.

It's beginning to rain a little, and he throws the hood of his sweater over his head before making sure your jacket is zipped up properly as well- like second nature.

You've noticed this before as well. He looks scary, with his piercings and tattoos and bold body and angry gaze. But he only looks that way. He's like a guard dog for you; a protector, because with him at your side nothing bad will ever happen. He's nice, a bit rough, but always friendly in his own way.

You like him.

Meanwhile Jungkook himself can't see what you see in him.

He's not the right person for you.

Next to him, you're perfectly content with your situation. Your tail is wagging sometimes in shared excitement when the hybrids in sight throw and catch a ball, but you also don't look like you actively want to participate. Watching seems to be more than enough, though you do check in if he's still next to you, tail wagging eagerly when he responds with a short smile your way.

He's not the right person for you, and he knows this.

When you walk back, he can feel your fingers grabbing the edge of his sleeve tightly, weighing his arm down a little. He notices the way his skin brushes against your fingers every now and then- feels how you do not react anymore, at all. There's a small moment of pure bravery, the sight of a road ahead, and the view of every hybrid standing in pairs holding hands that leads you to carefully slip your fingers between his. He quietly responds, holding your cold hand in his warmer one, thumb running circles over the soft back of your palm.

He knows he's not the right person for you.

But he wants to be.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #hybrid jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reade #bts jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagines

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epletsplayhouse · 1 year ago

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Authors note: This was a challenging part to write. I had many doubts about how to approach it, but I couldn't wait to finish and share it with you all! Enjoy! 🥰

Word count: 3,5K

Warnings: cussing, mentions of pills, a bit of violence.

All shook up

Part 7

"Goddammit man, she ain't killed nobody! And I swear to God, whoever swiped my gun… I'll tell you what, I'm gonna rip his goddamn spine outta that son of a bitch!" Elvis hollered in the living room.

He was clearly getting desperate, pacing back and forth, plopping himself down on the sofa, nervously bouncing his knee, and wiping his face with his hands in sheer frustration.

Most of his guys were in the room supporting him: Joe, Red, Sonny, Lamar, Marty, Charlie, Jerry, Billy…even Vernom, his father.

Elvis's yells made the room fall quiet for a

moment as all the guys jump to attention.

They were sitting in a circle, looking serious and deep in thought. Smoke from their cigarettes filled the air, making it hazy, but they didn’t seem to mind. Each guy had this mix of worry and determination written all over his face, but they were ready to face whatever came their way as a team.

Elvis felt the knot in his stomach tighten as he grappled with the words the Colonel had spoken earlier. He didn't want to admit the truth, but deep down, he knew he was in a challenging situation. The accusations shook him to the core, leaving him with an unsettling feeling.

As Elvis paced the room again, his frustration boiling over, Joe spoke up. “She was so sick she could barely stand. There’s no way she could’ve done anything like this.”

Red nodded vigorously, adding, “Yeah, Elvis, she was practically passed out. I had to carry her. Shooting a gun? Not even in her wildest dreams.”

“Maybe we should start by figuring out who had access to the penthouse. That’ll give us a place to start.” Lamar suggested as he stared at the table deep in thought.

Charlie reacted to Lamar's words “ But we need to be careful. The police are gonna be all over this, and they won’t hesitate to come down hard on us” he warned in a severe tone.

"Women... always causing trouble," Marty quipped, laughing and puffing his cigar.

Elvis erupted in rage, charging over to where Marty was seated and seizing him by the collar. "Ya think this is funny, you damn fool?" He yelled with anger, his knuckles turning white from the gripping.

Marty’s laughter died in his throat as Elvis’s fury bore down on him. Joe and Red rushed forward, attempting to pull him away from Marty. “Come on E, let him go” Joe urged, his voice tinged with concern.

Marty, visibly shaken, straightened his collar and cleared his throat nervously. “I-I’m sorry, Elvis. I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

Elvis looked at Joe and could see from his expression that everyone was there just to back him up. After taking a deep breath and pausing briefly, he approached the group. He placed his hand on the back of the couch and began to speak.

"Alright, y’all…here's the deal: Billy, Lamar, and Sonny, you guys go and check out those who have access to this room. Joe, Red, get yourselves ready for talkin’ with the police. We ain’t hidin’ nothin’. Rest of ya, gather up information and keep the press outta here. Dad, you take care of the Colonel.”

With confidence, the guys nodded in agreement to Elvis's instructions, and each one began to leave the room to carry out their assigned tasks. Jerry approached and gave Elvis a pat on the back. “Don't worry, we'll find that son of a bitch” he said, trying to reassure Elvis.

Still slightly panting with anger and staring at the floor, Elvis couldn't respond to Jerry's words. His frustration simmered, and he simply wanted everyone to leave the room. The only thing that could make him feel better was his upcoming date with Y/n and talking to her about everything. He was eager to see her again and to keep her safe.

The scalding water from the shower had managed to calm his boiling rage. As Elvis carefully wrapped a towel around his hips, he began to lather his face, preparing for a clean shave. His plan was all set in stone; he had his outfit picked out and the perfect undercover car chosen. This time, Elvis had opted to go alone throughout Las Vegas, and he already had a gun in mind to carry for protection and a foolproof escape route from the hotel up his sleeve. A smirk played at his lips as he realised that thanks to y/n, he had the perfect strategy for slipping away undetected.

Emerging from the bathroom, Elvis drifted into a reverie. He yearned for moments alone with her, with no rush. Oh, how he craved the simple pleasures: sharing a meal, witnessing her radiant smile, smelling the fragrance of her hair, and feeling her warmth...

“Oh, there you are!”

Priscilla's voice abruptly shattered the daydream that was consuming Elvis' thoughts at that moment.

Elvis's eyebrows furrowed as a feeling of annoyance washed over him. He hadn't expected her to come at that moment, especially when he was already dealing with a lot. This moment felt like déjà vu. Every time he was about to meet y/n, Priscilla suddenly showed up. She moved around the bedroom, smiling tenderly at Elvis.

Priscilla approached him and took hold of his face with both hands before leaning forward and kissing him. Elvis didn’t move a muscle; his eyes remained open and fixed on hers the entire time. He didn’t kiss her back, not even for an instance. He just stood there, letting her kiss him.

“What are you doin’ here, Cilla? you should’ve phoned before comin’ over.” Elvis asked while he gently pushed away Priscilla’s hands over his face. He really hated her surprises, and he was still processing why she was there, just as he was about to leave.

“I just wanted to see if I could melt that icy heart of yours…maybe we can give ourselves another chance” Priscilla answered gently, brushing her nails over his wet chest down to the towel.

Elvis’s jaw clenched as he felt Priscilla’s touch,

“Cilla, this ain’t the time” he managed to say, his voice strained. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. There’s… there’s been a murder and it seems someone got me involved. I gotta go.”

“What happened? Please, you have to tell me” Priscilla insisted, her tone of concern and seriousness. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it might all be a misunderstanding.

Elvis turned his back to Priscilla to take his robe and put it on. "The girl was murdered in my assistant’s office, with my gun. And I know it wasn’t her." He explained as he tied the robe’s belt.

Priscilla's eyes widened in surprise as she struggled to contain her rage. "With your gun? H-How?" Priscilla's nervousness was evident in her hesitant question. She understood something had gone wrong in Angelica’s plan. Then, gaining composure, she changed her expression to a darker tone, "I'm sure she stole the gun. How can you be so certain it wasn't her?"

With his back still turned towards Priscilla, Elvis glanced at her from the corner of his eye and said, "Because... she spent the night with me." He stayed calm, keeping his explanations short and simple.

Priscilla pretended to be surprised. She knew she had to perform a whole act so Elvis wouldn’t suspect anything.

Priscilla’s eyes filled with tears, her lower lip trembling as she struggled to comprehend his words. “Oh, Elvis”, her voice breaking. “How could you?”

"Please, don't act like you don't know what I'm talkin’ bout", Elvis scoffed, looking at the ceiling and rubbing his eyes. "I ain't no fool, darlin'. I know them employees gossip; it’s not the first time, and you sure have your contacts among 'em." Elvis couldn't stand it when Priscilla played the victim.

Immediately, guilt washed over Elvis as he turned and watched her tears fall. Despite his anger, he couldn’t bear to see her cry and felt a deep sense of remorse. “Look, sorry, I-I need to go.”

Priscilla wasn't ready to back down. "Fine," she retorted. "Running off to see your little fling while there's a murder investigation going on. That's just like you, Elvis" she snapped, wiping her tears away. "You can't leave me here; I might be in danger; we need to talk." Her words were filled with a strange mix of anger and helplessness.

Elvis stared at her silently, feeling torn. While he wanted to give Priscilla a break, his concern for their daughter’s well-being held him back. At the same time, he knew that their relationship had changed. Although she remained important to him, the romantic spark was over.

A loud knock on the door abruptly broke the silence between them. Elvis let out a curse under his breath, wondering who could possibly be coming now. As soon as he opened the door, his expression changed drastically. It was the police. Elvis's mind raced as he tried to process the unexpected arrival of law enforcement.

The police officers on the other side exchanged glances before one spoke up. “Mr. Presley, we need you to come down to give a statement.”

"Sure, Sir" Elvis replied with a resigned sigh, casting a final glance back at Priscilla. "I'll be right back" he assured her. "I'll stay, so we can wrap this up later, alright?" With that, he turned his attention to the police officers and followed them outside, leaving Priscilla behind.

The police arrived at my doorstep with a search warrant, and before I knew it, I found myself being escorted into their car without any explanation. I couldn't even be sure if they had read me my rights.

As the police car pulled from my house, I couldn't help but stare out the window. The streets rushed past, each turn carrying me farther from the life I once knew.

The officers in the front seats occasionally exchanged glances, speaking in hushed tones that I strained to understand.

Finally, we arrived at the police station. As I entered, the harsh fluorescent lights exposed the sterile surroundings. My heart pounded as I was escorted to a small interrogation room. The door clicked shut behind me.

Alone in the stark room, I sank into a chair, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me.

The harsh glare of the spotlight in the police station room was so intense that it felt like it was burning into my retinas, making it nearly impossible to focus. Since Elvis called, my thoughts have been trapped in a thick, suffocating fog. Everything happened so quickly; my world felt like falling apart, but I couldn’t even cry. I was too shocked.

A stern-faced detective and an officer entered the room as the door creaked open. The detective's piercing gaze bore into me as he took a seat, relieving me from the harsh spotlight.

“Miss y/ln, correct?" the detective inquired, flipping open a document-filled folder.

"Yes" I affirmed, meeting his gaze.

"We're going to ask you some questions. You have the right to remain silent until your lawyer arrives. It's your decision," he stated, arranging the papers.

"It's okay, let's proceed."

"Alright. Miss y/ln, to begin with, there has been a murder," he explained, displaying a photo of my office. "Is this the office where you typically carry out your work tasks?"

"Yes, that's correct."

The detective leaned in, his expression grave. "Now, Miss Y/ln, can you take us through what you were up to on the night of the incident?" He shifted his gaze from the papers to me as he asked.

I closed my eyes and sighed. I had to tell the truth, but I was getting nervous as I didn’t remember part of the night.

“Well, I was working in Mr Presley’s private party…” as I was explaining, the officer was taking notes, recalling that night was hurting me more than the thought of the police sending me to jail “(…) and I spent the night with him in his penthouse.”

“Right. Now, Miss y/ln, this is why we searched your property” he said, displaying another photograph. The photograph was the victim’s hand holding a piece of paper.

“It’s a note that reads: ‘Don’t freeze out there while I’m not with you, baby. Meet me at midnight, backstage. -E.’ We also found fibres in her hand that matched your coat at your residence. Can you explain this?”

I froze at that moment. Why did she have that note? It was from the box I left in my office. But how did she come across it?

"Mr. Presley gave me a present. It was a box that contained a coat and that note. I left the box and the note in my office," she explained.

"Then it's possible that in the middle of the night, you took Mr. Presley's gun and shot the girl after she found out about your secret affair?" he pressed, increasing the pressure on me.

"No, no, no... I would never harm anyone or steal, for god’s sake!" I exclaimed, my voice tinged with panic.

"We've traced your telephone conversation with Mr. Presley earlier today," he stated calmly, retrieving another document from the stack of papers and presenting it to me. It was a transcript of our conversation. "'Oh, I know, but I reckon you might have headed to your office after Joe and Red took you back'... Miss y/ln, what do you have to say about this?" The detective asked.

As I heard those words once more, spoken by none other than Elvis, it felt like a punch to the gut. I was left speechless, grappling with the weight of his harsh accusations. Tears streamed down my face, and I couldn't hold them back.

"Okay, let's take a break," the detective said gently. "We'll continue once you've had a chance to compose yourself."

When you sit down to watch a horror film, you know it's going to scare you. Even though you're fully aware that it will give you nightmares, you still can't resist watching it. That's exactly how I felt after my last conversation with Elvis.

Bursting into tears that were almost choking me, I couldn't help but read the script repeatedly, engraving those words in my mind with fire.

I began reading from the start once more, over and over again, and...

Hold on.

“I-t’s me, darling”

“M-aybe this ain’t the right moment”

“N-o darlin’, I ain’t comin’ over”

“O-h, I know, but I reckon you…”

“T-he truth is, I can’t risk hanging…”

“S-orry, darlin’, but…”

“A-one-night stand, I guess”

“N-ot to mention darlin”

“T-ake care of yourself, honey”

“A-nd one last thing”

I- I’m.. not…S- a- nta? I’m not Santa! Santa Claus? But what is this?

As I looked on, my eyes widened, and a shiver ran down my spine. It couldn't have been a mere coincidence. My hands began to tremble involuntarily.

Alex, you are a fucking genius.

Why did he do this? To protect me? No, he would have been straightforward; he was hiding this message for a reason. He wouldn’t hurt me unless someone forced him to do so. Something must have happened. Actually, I didn’t see him around my office this morning, and he never missed a gossip.

Oh god, he is in danger.

"Officer!" I yelled, my heart racing. "Please, you have to help. My friend is in danger, something's not right." My words tumbled out in a mix of worry and hope. If the police took this information seriously, maybe they could finally uncover the truth and find out who was behind it all.

As soon as the detective burst into the room, his expression was a mix of surprise and concern. I quickly launched into explaining the encrypted message from the conversation transcript, but his expression grew darker as I spoke. He abruptly left the room to make a phone call, leaving me wondering what was happening.

He took the nearest telephone just in the corridor in front of me. So I was able to see him. He said, “She knows too much. Alright, thanks," and hung up.

I was utterly confused. Before I could make sense of anything, he rushed over and grabbed my arm, saying aggressively:

"You're coming with me. We're visiting someone.”

Elvis spent nearly 5 hours giving his statement, determined to ensure that every detail was known. His affair was now public knowledge, but he didn't mind, as long as y/n was safe. Sonny escorted him to the floor where his penthouse was located.

"Sonny, stay close. If ya hear anything, give me a heads up," Elvis urged, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Sonny nodded with concern in his eyes and said his goodbyes to Elvis.

As Elvis closed the heavy wooden penthouse door behind him, he leaned against it, feeling the coolness of the polished mahogany against his back. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes, trying to relieve the pounding headache that had been building up throughout the chaotic events of the day.

He walked into the bedroom and saw Priscilla peacefully asleep in bed. A wave of relief washed over Elvis as he realised he wouldn't have to deal with her just yet.

Elvis was extremely cautious as he quietly made his way into the bed, ensuring not to disturb Priscilla. He positioned himself along the edge, making a conscious effort to avoid any physical contact with her. His mind was racing, and despite his strong desire to take sleeping pills, he resisted, determined to remain awake in case any updates were to come in.

He couldn't get the police's information out of his head: the note clutched in the victim's hand and a shocking new revelation about the weapon - only Elvis and the victim's fingerprints were found.

Elvis spent the night staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. As the first rays of sunlight peeked through the closed curtains, he heard Priscilla stirring. He kept his eyes closed, not ready to face her yet. He feigned sleep, knowing she would probably leave early.

He felt her hand on his waist and her breath near his ear. Priscilla kissed his cheek and whispered, "I have some appointments but I'll return soon. I love you."

Elvis remained silent, his breathing becoming deeper and more steady. He had fooled Priscilla into thinking that he had taken sleeping pills. Noticing his oblivious state, she reached for the phone on the bedside table, ready to make a call.

"I'm on my way," Priscilla said.

Elvis found it odd, but he assumed she was probably heading to have breakfast with Joe's wife or something similar.

Once Priscilla left the room, Elvis slowly opened his eyes. Sitting up in bed, his dark circles were a clear sign of exhaustion.

He heard the door creak open, and for a moment, he thought Priscilla was returning to the room. Quickly, he lay back down on the bed.

“God, Mr. Presley, I am so sorry!" Doris's voice broke in as she saw Elvis in bed with one eye open and the other closed.

"Oh, it's just you, darlin’. No need to worry, come on in," Elvis said, brushing off her apology.

“I'm really sorry; I saw Mrs Presley and thought I could come in to clean the room," Doris said, looking at Elvis, clearly a bit worn out. "Mr. Presley... are you okay? Shall I call in-room dining service?

"Don't worry, darlin’, I'm fine... thank you so much", Elvis replied with a forced smile, but with every intention of making Doris feel comfortable.

Doris continued cleaning as she glanced at Elvis's face once again, her gaze then fixed on the floor. She knew Elvis was suffering; that poor boy was under much pressure, especially as a public figure. She began to ponder as she straightened out one of the corners of her uniform jacket.

"Mr. Presley, I think I need to tell you something," Doris said with a frightened tone.

"Don't ya worry about the mess, darlin’, the guys were here last night. I know it's full of cigarette ashes and Lord knows what else," Elvis said with a smirk.

"No, it's not that, Mr. Presley," Doris said with a serious tone.

Elvis opened both eyes, sat in bed again, and asked eagerly, "Then what is it?"

"I-I don't think it was y/n who killed the girl," Doris said, afraid to speak.

“Ah, I agree. I'm sure it wasn't her," Elvis said while twirling the rings of his fingers deep in thoughts as he nodded in agreement.

"Mr. Presley..." Doris began, cautiously approaching Elvis.

"Perhaps you misunderstood me. I think I know who is behind this murder.”

Need to recap? Part 6 here

Part 8 here

Tags: @pxpresley ❤️❤️

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beccacoffindaffer · 3 months ago

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Chapter 5: Wherein a God Rediscovers How to Laugh (Even Gods Need Miracles)

<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>

Summary:

The move to Skyhold puts distance between Solas and the new Inquisitor, but neither of them are willing to stay apart from one another for very long.

The move to Skyhold changes things.

The Inquisition is no longer a fledgling movement, operating piecemeal from a tiny village on a mountainside. It’s an organization, growing and coalescing around one person: their newly designated Inquisitor.

Whether this new title sits easier on her shoulders than the one of Herald, he does not know. The first few weeks after their arrival, he barely sees her. The number of directions in which she is pulled has tripled, and the decisions even heavier. The eyes and expectations of everyone in the keep follow her everywhere she goes, haunting her footsteps.

He is relieved when he hears that Vivienne and Josephine successfully convince her to take the grand bedroom at the top of the tower. She objected to the idea, uncomfortable with being so literally set above others, but Josephine is a diplomat and Vivienne is a courtier. They know the importance of portraying and exhibiting power, even if one does not quite feel it themselves.

He cares less about appearances or posturing in this case and more about the Inquisitor having a place of sanctuary. Where she can distance herself from the constant needs and demands of her position and breathe for a moment. The tower bedroom will allow her to do just that.

He should know. It served exactly that purpose for him once, long ago.

He is assigned his own quarters that are perfectly sufficient, but it is the rotunda that he truly claims as his own. A desk, a fine chair, a soft couch, soft golden light, and space to think. Accessible to the library without the irritation of all the busy foot traffic. Open all the way to Leliana’s operations on the top floor. Leliana herself is far too clever to let anything slip that might echo down to his ears, but not all her agents are so cautious.

And he is nothing if not a man who values information.

He does not have the opportunity to exchange more than a passing word with her, with the Inquisitor, until she comes upon him with Cassandra and Vivienne in the lower courtyard, arguing about Cole.

“This thing is not a stray puppy you can make into a pet,” Vivienne says sharply. “It has no business being here.”

A true Circle mage , he thinks. Made from childhood to fear the Fade even as it feeds her its power.

If she’d seen the old world, if she knew the beauty of a world with no Veil, she would not hold such fear, so he cannot be truly angry at her for it. She fears what a being like Cole could do, while Cassandra worries because he is an unknown, unseen variable.

When the Inquisitor steps into their circle, he cannot help but notice how all three of them turn toward her — even himself. Flowers toward the sun. She looks older, more serious than she had before Haven, her expression strained in a way that is unfamiliar. It is only natural after everything that happened, but he hates it all the same. Misses the humor that glints in her eyes and pulls at her mouth.

He has no way to gauge exactly how much she has changed since the battle and her near-death. She listens the same as always, taking in Vivienne’s and Cassandra’s opinions, asking every question she can think of to better understand. He makes his plea to her, to see Cole for what he truly is and not what fear would make him out to be, but he can’t read her face or tell what she’s thinking.

“I should hear what Cole has to say for himself,” she says after a moment. “Where is he now?”

Solas turns, ready to point her in the right direction, but there is no need. Her eyes find the young man in the oversized hat almost immediately, flitting between patients around the medical tents, and she heads off toward him.

He wants to follow her, to listen and know what passes between them, but it is better for him to stay back and give them space. Let her come to whatever decision she feels is right. But he can’t keep himself from watching, and even from this distance, he can see how her face changes as she and Cole talk. Softening, twisting with sympathy as she shadows him between injured soldiers.

When she finally returns to them, her eyes are bright and there are the faint lines of tear tracks on her cheeks. “Cole stays.”

Vivienne frowns deeply. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Inquisitor.”

“I understand and appreciate your concern, Vivienne,” she says gently. “I take full responsibility for all my decisions here.”

Subject closed, Cassandra and Vivienne head up the steps toward the training grounds and the Great Hall, leaving him and the Inquisitor standing together. Alone.

How can a few weeks of distance feel so wide? So difficult to breach? He isn’t sure what to say, a feeling he is very unfamiliar with, and yet he is also desperate to say something , if only to keep her with him a moment longer.

“I…” He pauses, clears his throat, attempting to collect himself. “I appreciate you allowing Cole to stay.”

“It was an easy decision.” Her gaze drifts toward the boy — not quite spirit, not quite man. “You’re right, Solas. He is very special.”

He traces her profile with his gaze as carefully as if he’d been tasked with painting it. “As are you, Inquisitor, for being able to see that.”

Her mouth twists with displeasure, and for one terrible moment, he wonders if he’s misread what had been growing between them. Or perhaps something has happened in the past few weeks that has turned her heart. Not that he should want her heart for himself — that would be foolish, selfish — but the sudden possibility that she might have given it elsewhere makes him feel carved out and hollow.

“Could you…” She brings her eyes back to him, one hand fidgeting nervously with a tiny loose thread on the side of her leather pants. “I mean, would it be all right if you still called me ‘lethallan’? Or Eralen, even? Not in official settings or anything, but when it’s just the two of us?”

It is a struggle to not let the burst of warmth and relief show on his face. “You do not like being called ‘Inquisitor’?”

She shrugs. “It’s fine enough. I suppose it just doesn’t sound quite right when you say it. Given how…close we’ve become.”

“Whatever you wish me to call you will be gladly done.” He inclines his head as he says it, the shadow of a bow, holding her gaze the entire time, willingly trapping himself in her eyes.

“Inquisitor, there you are!” Leliana’s voice carries down into the lower courtyard from her spot high up on the wall above their heads. “Josie is looking everywhere for you!”

She sighs and forces a brittle smile. “Duty calls once again.”

As she heads for the stairs, he calls out, “Lethallan,” and waits for her to stop and turn back to him before adding, “May I seek you out soon? I would hate to go so long again without getting to speak with you.”

She smiles, truly smiles, for the first time since she joined him. “I would like that very much.”

***

He means to wait three or even four days before he goes to find her and claim some of her time, but he does not make it that long. The urge to hear her voice again, to be in her presence and breathe her in like fresh air after centuries trapped in a suffocating space, is too strong.

He finds her in a small empty courtyard, a forgotten corner of the keep away from the bustle of the rest of the Inquisition. She’s shed her the overcoat and vest she usually dawns against the snowy cold mountain air, stripped down a sleeveless tunic tucked into the worn-in leather of her pants. She’s wrapped her wrists and the palms of her hands to protect them as she wields her long daggers, flowing through a series of movements against an invisible opponent.

He pauses just inside the door and leans against the stone wall, content to watch the lines of her body as they arc and curve and cut through the air. He’d told her before she was graceful, and he’d meant it fully. It was rare for him to take pleasure in watching someone work with blades — they had always seemed more crude and cumbersome than observing magic — but she is an exception. Bending and twisting as easily as a breeze.

She finishes the form and turns toward him, grinning as she flips the daggers into the sheathes that crisscross her back. “Still awed by my grace, Solas?”

“You say that like a joke, but in truth, I am.” He pushes off the wall and walks toward her, hands clasped behind his back. “You are quite gifted.”

She shakes her head, deflecting his compliment. “Not gifted so much as practiced. Any Dalish who’d grown up bored and needing something to do would likely be just as skilled.”

“I doubt that.” She’s breathing hard from the exertion, and this close to her, he can see her warm breath misting in the cold air, the curve of bare skin across her chest exposed by the neckline of her tunic. “You move your body like a dancer.”

She arches a brow. “You’ve paid a lot of attention to my body, then?”

He shrugs but does not deny it. “I pride myself on my observational skills. You demonstrate exceptional fluidity.”

“Muscle memory. Nothing more,” she says. Deflecting. Again. Unwilling or unable to acknowledge her own skill. “I’d never be able to cast complex spells and handle a staff as you do.”

He tilts his head, his grin turning just a little bit wicked. “I’m sure you’d handle a staff just fine if given a chance.”

She bursts out into a laugh, bright and full-throated, and the sound of it ringing against the stone walls of the courtyard is enough to make him laugh as well. Which seems to delight her even more.

“He makes innuendos and he laughs.” She takes half a step closer, reducing the distance between them to a foot at most. “I wasn’t sure you were capable of either.”

“It is admittedly quite rare,” he says, and then, softer, adds, “Although it seems to happen more often around you.”

Her smile is triumphant. Incandescent. She does not — cannot — know what a gift it is for him to be able to make her smile like that. To talk and tease with someone. To make them happy, make them laugh. To bring joy instead of doom or dread. To be just a man, talking with a woman, marveling at the light inside her.

He has never experienced it before, so he has not known to miss it. But now that he is here, drinking it in, he is not sure how he will ever be able to stop.

“That might be my greatest achievement yet.”

His eyes are on her lips. On the corner of her mouth that curves ever so slightly higher than its opposite. He’s flooded with the urge to press his lips against that very spot and tightens his hands behind his back. “Greater than Inquisitor?”

“Far greater.” She holds his gaze a moment longer and then looks down, a flush creeping across her cheeks. “I’ve missed you this past month, Solas.”

He has missed her, too — aching, lonely weeks — and yet it surprises him still to hear it from her when she is at the heart of so much. “Surely you are not wanting for company here in Skyhold.”

“No, definitely not. It’s not the same, though.”

“How so?”

She takes a moment, considering, choosing her words with the same deliberate care as always before she finally speaks.

“Have you ever been around someone who is kind and lovely, but when they look at you, you know that they’re only seeing their idea of you and not who you actually are?”

Her words strike him in the chest, and he cannot speak or even really breathe for several heartbeats.

Fen’Harel. The Dread Wolf. He Who Hunts Alone. Lord of Tricksters. God of Rebellion. God of Betrayal.

A hundred names over a hundred lifetimes. Thousands and thousands of faces turned toward him — in supplication, in hope, in despair, in revulsion. Even those who loved him and knew him best stopped seeing him . Solas. For one, he became her second, her right hand, her shadow. For the other, he became a general and a symbol and, eventually, a betrayer.

“Yes,” he says roughly. “I am quite familiar with that feeling.”

She tosses him a grateful look as she unbuckles the sheathes and slips them from her shoulders, setting them on the ground. “They all mean well, but sometimes it’s like I’m trapped behind glass.”

Behind glass. Behind obligations. Behind a mantle you never wanted to bear but had to yoke onto yourself when it became clear that no one else would.

The weight in his chest is so heavy. All he wants to do is set it down, but he can’t.

And here she is, seeing him, feeling the same.

He watches her scoop her overcoat from the ground and pull it on. “But you do not feel that way around me?”

“No. With you, it’s the opposite.” She eyes him as she buttons up her coat, that teasing grin sneaking back onto her face. When she looks at him like that, he feels it in his whole body. “Sometimes I wish you saw through me less.”

So do I. If I saw you less, maybe you would not haunt my every thought. “I shall take that as a badge of honor.”

She picks up the sheathes and belts, slinging them over one shoulder without bothering to buckle them back on. “Would it be imposing on your time to ask you to walk with me? I’d like to be irresponsible for just a bit longer.”

He could say no. He could make his excuses and return to the main keep. That’s what Fen’Harel would do because there is nothing to gain, no merit in remaining.

Except perhaps…he might be able to make her laugh again. He might earn another of her smiles.

He falls into step at her side, murmuring, “I am at your disposal, lethallan.”

It is difficult to find complete solitude in Skyhold, but they manage it. Strolling along the far corners of battlements until they find an empty fortified tower with a hatch that leads to the very top, the highest point in the keep. The wind is sharp and blustery so far up with nothing to block it, but when the two of them stand along the far edge, shoulders touching, all they can see for miles are the snowcapped mountains soaring around them. All they can hear is the wind and the distant cry of a hunting hawk and each other. Two voices, two heartbeats, two breaths fogging against the air.

It feels as if they are the only people in the entire world.

#dragon age #solavellan hell #solas dragon age #dragon age fandom #dragon age fanfiction #solavellan #solas x inquisitor #solasmance #solas x female lavellan #dragon age inquisition #even gods need miracles

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bleedingichorhearts · 8 months ago

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𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐈

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Apologies, I am in some different fandoms as well.

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You make your way to Commanders Burnside office all while bumping into a few people on the way before and after.

TW // Hallucination.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥��𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Chapter I} • {Chapter III}

You wake up an hour later than you should since you have been informed about your 2-man mission by the Mr. Buzz Lightyear. The same Buzz that takes up only a selection of your bed, and is as stiff as a board in his sleep as you carefully move about, trying not to wake him up. Your body silently shuffling around your own room to get a bit ready for morning. Never once making the Ranger in your bed move or waking him up, but you do, however, wake up Sox.

“Ranger, it is not time for your briefing.” The orange cat quietly states to you. His dim, green optics looking up at you from the nightstand he perched himself to rest on. “You should be getting your sleep in.”

You freeze at his words, holding your breath before you look towards the robotic cat. Your eyes scanning over Buzz in your bed, carefully watching to see if he moved or not before looking over to Sox. Softly exhaling when you take note that Buzz seemed to be in a deep sleep, all that ‘not-sleeping’ stuff catching up to him.

“Figured I need to prep myself before it.” You respond, gently whispering at the cat. Your shoulders softly shrugging at Soxs’ statement. Your form relaxing a little when everything seemed to go your way right now. No one was waking up because of you.

“Ah, that makes sense.” Sox hums, almost sounding like a robotic purr. His head looking at Buzz as he scans him; his paws in front of him readjusting before he becomes a loaf. His head looking back at you before he speaks again. “Well, I hope that your briefing will go well, Ranger.”

“I hope so too.” You whisper, nodding at the cat, and take that as your cue to move around once more to ready yourself before leaving your room. The door of your room sliding open as the corridor lights nearly blind you. Your eyes rapidly blinking so you can get used to them while you walk out of your room, making sure to restrict some access. Only leaving yourself, Sox and Buzz to be able to get in or out of your room unless a higher rank wanted to get in there.

Walking down the corridor. You take in the morning as much as possible, liking the silence and the nostalgic feel it gives you. Also, there were less crowds, can’t forget about the less crowds. There was just something about it that made it much more enjoyable when you get up alone sometimes. To be able to get the morning peace all by yourself before the day starts.

Taking a turn down into a different selection of the hallway. You nearly bump into another Space Ranger, her from stepping back a little in surprise as you take a step back as well. Her body almost bumping into a big potted plant behind her. Both of you definitely not expecting to see another Ranger up and about this time of day. Usually, everyone was catching up on their z’s, resting after their missions.

“Well, I didn’t expect you to be up at this time.” The young woman says, putting her hands on her hips as you raise a brow at her. Your eyes looking her up and down in slight suspicion at her words. Taking in that she was still in the more relaxing clothing like some sweatpants and branded shirt of the space rangers. So it was clear she didn’t have to be up at this time, but yet, here she was.

“Uh… good morning to you too Izzy?” You greet her a little awkwardly, not sure how to respond to what she gave you. You were just up and about, trying to get ready and prepped up before visiting Commander Burnsides office for the mission review. Not… whatever she may be suspecting you off. You can see it in how she looks you up and down with her golden brown eyes, like she knows something you don’t.

“You and Buzz a thing?” She asks bluntly, but her tone is giddy. Her eyes amused as she tries not to bounce in her spot.

“What?”

“What?!”

You almost jump at the sound of the robot voice as it huffs and puffs in your mind. Clearly, not expecting the voice to return as you had almost thought it was just a bad dream. Yet, you push on. Curious on why this Ranger would think such a thing and choose to ignore anything more that robotic voice might interrupt you with.

“You know, like…” The woman pauses and tries to gesture at you so you have a better chance of getting what she’s saying. Which you do understand, it’s just the question was bold, unexpected and well… can be rather inappropriate as well.

“No, we are not together if that is what you're inquiring about.” You answer her, looking her up and down once more. Wanting to make sure she got the facts right. You didn’t want any false rumors going around now.

“…You sure?” She asks, extending the word ‘sure’ a bit with a slight pitch in her tone. Wanting her own curiosity’s straight. “I saw him walk into your room and never leave…”

“Ah.” You click your tongue at that. Now knowing where she got her suspicions from. “I offered him my room to sleep in. He looked way too tired to even attempt to go back to his own room. He looked sleep deprived, most likely was.”

“Oh… nothing more?” She pushes a bit, wiggling her eyebrows just a tiny bit as if there was something going on between you and Buzz. She could honestly be a pain in the butt sometimes.

“No, nothing more.” You deny with a tired sigh and a shake of your head for more effect. You hope she won’t say anything about that, but knowing youngsters… they like to talk, and they like to talk a lot. So in hopes to quiet her mind a bit you ask her a question in return. “Why? You think me and him would be a great match or something?”

“Well, I mean…” She pauses with a grin, rubbing the back of her head. “You both seem very compatible on the field. You guys work together fluently. I haven’t seen a time when you guys failed when you two are paired.”

You stand there for a second, taking in her words before slightly nodding. You do remember the times when you were paired up with Buzz and set some mission records up because you two would have done them so quickly and efficiently. It came as a surprise to almost everyone on the base as both of you liked to go solo most of the time. “Loners” some others would say.

“Is that all?” You push her back. Wondering if there was much more to it. You know sometimes she likes to play Cupid, but she never really had the guts to try such a thing on you until now, until she had some sort of evidence.

“No, that is all. What are you up to?” She asks, changing the topic. Finding your suddenness to be up in the early morning a more interesting topic to talk about. Her eyes looking at you more curiously.

You hum at her before gesturing at her to follow you. Realizing that you don’t have any time now to talk to her while just standing in the hallway, but you can while walking with her towards Commanders Burnsides office. “I have a mission to do soon.”

“Mission? Is it solo?” She questions, following you by your side. Putting her hands back at her sides too. “Squaded?”

“I was hoping it was solo, but I hear that is not the case.” You hum, looking forward to watch where you are going. “I believe I’m being paired up with a cadet.”

“A cadet?” She says, sounding rather puzzled. Looking in front of her for a moment. “You are at a higher rank than that, are you training them perhaps?”

“I’m unsure.” You hum, turning down another hallway with her still following right beside you. Commander Burnside's office just a few more corridors down.

“You are not that great with new rangers, just like Buzz.” She laughs a little at that, shaking her head then grimacing. Realizing she may have said something offending to you. “Not that I mean to offend you! It’s just well… the truth.”

“No offense.” You shake your head with a light grin. Waving your hand to dismiss her. You know you don’t do well with cadets yourself. “I know I don’t.”

She sighs in relief at that. Her body relaxing a little. Her eyes looking around her for a moment as she realizes you have made your way to the Commander's office. “Well… I hope whatever Burnside is thinking… the mission will come out at a big A+. Don’t want one of our best to fail because of a simple mistake of mispairing.”

You look at her for a moment. Considering her words as they almost feel… familiar to you. Something�� like what her grandmother would say: Alisha Hawthorne.

Of course, you haven’t met her as you haven’t been born yet, but you have definitely seen and heard that old Commander around in historical buildings and even in Buzz logs. She was talked highly of, appreciated and loved from the generations of T’Kani Prime. She became the light and hope of this planet and for everyone aboard the Turnip. Gave them a new meaning rather than being in despair of being on this alien planet.

Perhaps… Izzy is to be just like her grandmother? To rise more in her ranks to be Commander just like her grandmother? You can see her potential…

“I do not fail my missions.” You say blandly but confidently, and yet you never have. Your missions were always a clean success. No matter how long they took to complete, you always find yourself coming back with a clean record of the mission and ready for a new one to be assigned to you.

“Which makes you the best.” Izzy smiles with a nod. Backing off a little bit, leaving your side. “Now, I wouldn’t want to intrude in your mission briefing. I’ll hear how it goes when you arrive back.”

You nod at her in return. Watching as she turns around to walk down the hallway properly instead of walking backwards. Her hands folded behind her back before she disappears down a different hallway.

Shaking your head when she does go around the bend of the hallway. You turn attention to the door in front of you. Looking at the metal of it and the name tag on it “Commander Burnside” before giving it two knocks.

“Come in.”

The door opens with the given permission, letting you inside of his rather… basic office. The room had the basic, dark wooden bookshelves behind him full of old books and the thick office desk in front of him. His form sitting in the middle and professionally on his leather office chair. His brown eyes watching you carefully as you walk in and stand behind two leather lounge chairs in front of his desk.

“Ranger.” He greets, nodding his head a bit to you in respect. His body moving a bit forward to lean his arms on his desk. The leather of his chair giving a light squeak. “Heard about your upcoming mission?”

You nod once at the Commander, straightening up a bit in his presence. Standing a bit taller. Knowing your required etiquette in front of a higher rank than you. “Yes, sir.”

The Commander nods. Thinking for a second before speaking once more. “Good, do you know what it is about?”

“No, sir.” You state, shaking your head. “I have been only informed of the two man mission. That I won’t be alone on this particular mission.”

Burnside hums at that, leaning back in his chair. Looking at you almost expectantly before informing you of your mission. “Yes, you have been set on a two man mission, with a cadet no less. So this mission is not up to your rank level but rather of the Cadet Wilsons. I want you to watch him while you’ll be up in the outer atmosphere to make sure the signals up there are in top condition. If not? It is your mission to repair every single last one of them until coming back down onto T’Kani Prime, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir. Your orders are loud and clear, sir.” You say automatically, nodding at your commander. His commanding tone leaving no choice to object. Yet you ask if you could question him anyways. “May I ask ‘why,’ sir?”

The Commander lifts his eyebrows at that and hums. Thinking through your words with a bit of suspicion before he sighs. “I know it is usual for you to go solo, but this cadet needs some more training and perhaps more discipline. I was thinking you would be the best option.”

“Is this cadet proving to be… troublesome?” You ask again, tilting your head a little bit for more emphasis. Folding your hands behind your back.

“He is a cocky one, I’ll give him that.” Commander Burnside responds, nodding. “I just need to make sure he can still follow orders without killing himself because his ego gotten too big.”

You nod at that. Knowing why you were sent with a cadet now. You’re still not pleased with it, but a part of you wants to know just how much this proclaimed cadet could take before he would snap, because usually it’s always the cocky ones that spill everything to the enemies first.

“I see that you are thinking about it.” The Commander hum, nodding again. Turning in his chair a bit. “You are dismissed then. This mission shall be simple enough.”

“Yes, sir.” You nod at him again in respect. Taking a step back before turning you back on him and taking your leave. The door opening up automatically when you go close to it.

Taking a few steps out. You hear the door of his office close as you make your way down the hallway. Your form nearbing bumping into another as you round the corner, again.

“Hey! Watch where—” A male voice comes out, ready to chew you out but stops mid sentence. Recognizing your rank and stature. Your eyes narrowing up at the man, observing him: Short, fuzzy and dirty blond hair with green eyes. Lean figure and snappy, cocky attitude and a name tag embedded with “Wilson.”

Ah, so this was the cadet you were going to work with? He definitely was living up to his descriptions already. His cockiness already showing.

“R-Ranger!” The boy stutters, saluting you quickly. His form straighting up.

“Cadet.” You simply greet, raising a brow up at his actions. Was he eager to please the higher up to rise up the ranks? Or was he just an obedient one? That definitely can’t be it.

“I hope my mission will go well with you!” He states, putting himself at ease without being told to do so. Possibly forgetting that he needed to be dismissed from saluting a higher power. “I hope I won’t disappoint you!”

You stay quiet for a second at that. Not knowing how to respond at that as again, you didn’t work with other rangers much or cadets no less. “I don’t think you will.”

“I won’t!” He protests even if he doesn't need to. Looking a little offended by your simple words but covers it up quickly. “I will take down the enemies with succession like the Zyclops!”

You raise your eyebrow up at that, mentally question this ever… eager cadet. Zyclops’s were rather formidable enemies of Star Command. It was kinda weird there were still more out there occasionally finding this planet as everyone thought they had shut down after Buzz blew up Zurgs spaceship.

“That big purple robot can get it too!” The cadet continues, confident and getting himself excited, mocking the purple robot you have been hallucinating about. It was kinda amusing. ““I’m the almighty Zurg and I shall destroy you and your disgusting planet!””

“I do not act like that.” You hear the robot in your mind speak suddenly, making this whole situation a bit more amusing than it was just seconds before. A twitch of a grin showing on your face before it disappears. “Insolent pest…”

“Well… for the sake of the mission.” You start, making the boy pause in his mockery. “Let’s make sure we don’t jinx ourselves. We want a smooth, calm mission. I know the thrill of combat maybe… fun, but that is not the way of the Ranger.”

Again, the cadet doesn't seem to like your words of logic as you can tell he was twisting his tongue inside of his mouth to shut himself up. Trying not to say anything stupid before he nods. “I understand.”

“Right, well…” You say but pause. Looking at the cadet over again. Making sure you weren’t missing anything beside his obvious dislike of being bossed. “You are dismissed. Don’t think too hard about the mission.”

“Understood.” He says again, a bit quieter this time, and you take that as your que to leave. You actually had some things to do before getting ready for the mission itself like find more about this Zurg, and perhaps… there was more than one of the purple robots. That, and you were curious about your… hallucinations of the purple robot.

Humming quietly to yourself as you leave the cadet alone in the hallway. You make your way to the archives this time. Going in and out of the buildings to get to it. Seeing a few people getting snatched by the planets vines with a yelp on your way there.

Entering the building with hiss from the automatic door, you notice that at first glance it was a local library. Though, for knowing better. You know there was to be some archives about or at least some personal stories that some people put out when Zurg attacked. So, you are sure you could get at least some information here that you are searching for.

Starting with walking around, you do see a little selection of personal stories from the attack, but you are wanting something more. Something that explains the ‘why,’ the ‘what’ and the ‘who’ of the enemy. You wanted to learn about your enemy, your hallucinations. Perhaps you should get some books on that… medical subject as well…

After a bit of wandering. Going up and down some steps, trying to look for the correct thing. You eventually come across a book (not an archive) about the big, purple robot. Your fingers gently brushing over the covers as you read the title. “Verity of Zurg”

“Getting interested in me now, darling?” The robotic voice comes back with an almost teasing-like laugh, but it also sounded like it had an undertone of… evil in it. “Oh, how precious of you.”

You can only hum at the robot inside of your head and flip the page of the book to try and start learning of this hunk of metal that haunts you when you are awake and sleeping. You’re really not sure why as you have never in your life seen this metal being before, but you know you can’t let these… hallucinations of him continue. You quite like being able to sleep peacefully and do your own job undisturbed.

“If you wanted to know about me you could have just asked.” The robot scoffs in your head and you have an inkling, a feeling that he shook his head, somehow. “I could have provided you with much more accurate and grueling descriptions these… pests have.”

You continue to ignore him within your mind. You sure as hell are not going to trust his words with that one. Especially, when learning and knowing that he is a villain after all. That is almost like a death wish; a trap.

“Oh, please.” Zurg scoffs again. You can tell he’s slightly amused by your thoughts. “I’m not much for exposing my own secrets, but to have someone destroy my image? Now that’s true villainy against me.”

Once more, you continue to ignore the robot. You do take his words in, but you just don’t respond to them. You know not better to. You know better not to connect with the past, future or present enemies.

The robot of your mind seems to give a gleeful cackle at that. Something that makes you tense up in your spot and send a shiver down your spine. “Oh, whether you like it or not. You will know of me darling. Just like everyone else. You will know of me, it is your luck just as it is mine.”

You briefly wonder what he meant by that as you suddenly look off to your side to a reflective window. Soft rain running outside of the glass panel, but for you… you can see him in it. Staring down at you with them glowing, crimson visors again. His massive, metal, purple form just standing there at full height in the window. How in the hell was he doing this to you? Did you have some connection with this robot that seemingly died?

“…You’re just going to continue to ignore my telepathic presence within your mind, are you not?”

‘Yep, yep you are.’ You think to yourself, turning back to the book in your hands. This metal being does not exist, and the metal being staring you down in the reflection of the window can’t help but give you another echoing cackle. Amused by your ignorance; your boldness to ignore him.

#fanfiction #second person pov #lightyear movie #evil emperor zurg #zurg #buzz lightyear #zurg x reader #pixar x reader #pixar #disney x reader #disney #canon x reader #villain x reader #tw: hallucination

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marveltrumpshate · 6 months ago

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★ AUCTION WEEK INFO ★

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____________________________________________

Read our daily update posts for more information:

Day 1 - Viewing Tumblr posts on mobile, using our auction watchlist feature, and changing your Discord DM settings

Day 2 - Bidder–creator matchmaking and group/pod bids

Day 3 - Commissioning gifts on a friend’s behalf (fanworks are great holiday gifts!)

Day 4 - Golden needle auctions

Day 5 - Creator auction promo tips

Auction spotlights:

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Poly ships

Fanworks featuring POC

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#marvel trumps hate #mth 2024 #announcement

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aprillikesthings · 1 year ago

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can I finish this before I gotta get ready and leave for the Maundy Thursday service let's find out lol

(Edit: Nope.)

THREE MORE EPISODES LEFT

*cries*

s5 ep11 Failsafe

someone hold me

I have to actively suppress the urge to read the synopses of the episodes at this point

oh also lol this is just funny to me, I saw a post Elsewhere Online where someone watched all of spop the first time and they HATED the dumb names everyone has, and I think they mentioned Castaspella specifically.

And like FIFTY PEOPLE responded with "dude they had to use the original names from the 1980's series" and I was the only one there old enough to have watched the original series and I had to point out: the original series was made to sell toys. The vast majority of cartoons in 1985 were only made to sell toys. They gave everyone those dumbass names because it was easy for kids to remember and beg for the toys."

That's also why all the female characters in the original series have the exact same body type. Yeah the body shape itself was due to 1980's-era sexism, but also? It was so much cheaper to animate the show AND make the toys that way!

But also, it's hella ironic to me that the 2018 show has so little official merch!

And now, back to crying over cartoon lesbians:

good question

ugh I hate her

Shadow Weaver: "While you were traipsing around in space,"

OH MY GOD they were saving a few people's LIVES and it was kind of IMPORTANT but WHATEVER

"--some of us have been working to stop the Heart of Etheria from falling into Prime's hands. And we discovered the same thing you did. Rumors of a Failsafe that will break the restraints the First Ones built and set the stolen magic free." Glimmer: "Are you kidding? After everything that happened last time, you're still going after the Heart of Etheria? And you're helping her?" Castaspella: "We're trying to free the magic for all of Etheria so we can be strong enough to fight Prime. I'm doing this for your father and for you. Shadow Weaver is the lesser of two evils."

I love that she says this right in front of Shadow Weaver. Like "girl I hate her too"

nice

okay ngl I have mixed feelings about this one because unfortunately she's not entirely wrong here but also, shut the fuck up

(something something people are responsible for their own actions but also she wouldn't have done all that godawful shit if Shadow Weaver hadn't been such a shitty parent)

but yeah Catra gets up like she's about to fucking throw some hands and Adora's like It's okay bb

;_;

but also they do need the information Shadow Weaver and Castaspella have

so it turns out Mystacor was built on top of a First Ones' citadel? huh

Castaspella: "Beneath Mystacor, there are many secret tunnels and rooms, forgotten and sealed off. No one has been able to access them in centuries, but there are whispers of what they contain." Shadow Weaver: "An artifact known as the Crystal of Arxia, hidden there by a group of traitorous First Ones." Castaspella: "You said I could do it!"

lol they bicker like old marrieds

Adora: "If you figured it out on your own, why come back here? Why do you need us at all?" Shadow Weaver: "Because Mystacor is controlled by Micah, who, you may recall, is controlled by Horde Prime."

they've been TRYING

"If he seizes the Heart, it will all be over."

Stop toUCHING HER

oh god Adora turns around to ask Catra to help out--and she's gone

YOU'RE THE REASON SHE'S FUCKING "SULKING" and you fucking know it, why are abusers always so god damned surprised to find out their kids don't want to be anywhere near them

(I mean I know why, they think they should be able to control you forever)

aaahahaha Adora's just like Nah I'mma go look for her tho

anyway roll intro!

omg look at Netossa and Spinny on the bottom left awwwww

she looks so sad

well okay sad and angry

their conversation here is so good, because Catra's fully aware of why Adora's doing this, but is really struggling to push past how much she (justifiably!) hates Shadow Weaver and hates being around her

I actually do kinda wish I'd kept a list of all the times Adora does the self-sacrificial thing, separated into "someone asked her to do it" vs "nobody asked her to do it" lol

BUT ADORA EXPRESSES A NEED oh nice that's progress

Adora: "Hey, she can't do anything to us anymore. Please, come. We--I-could really use your help."

two things I really love about this: One, she doesn't say that she doesn't like Adora, just that it's not the reason she's going. Two, I feel like Adora knows damn well Catra's not being 100% honest here.

Like, to some extent Catra's saying this as a way of attempting to protect herself a little. She's taking baby steps towards vulnerability, and it's terrifying! And I think Adora can see that and is fine with it--not JUST because she's like "any crumbs are better than nothing" but ALSO because she doesn't want to push Catra.

Because yeah, if there was any actual doubt that Catra does like Adora--

WELL.

Entrapta was able to get Spinerella's chip out but says it had started fusing with her nervous system and they're running out of time to safely un-chip everyone.

But she's been digging around the network that connects all the chips to Prime, hoping to figure out how to disconnect everyone at once, and Bow gives her a little encouragement, it's really sweet.

OKAY so everyone who can, teleports to Mystacor with Melog making them invisible. (Apparently Catra doesn't get motion sick from it anymore which is nice lol)

I love the way they animated them being invisible

oh GOD okay

Catra turns around and says "looks like there's no sorcerers here" while, unfortunately, a sorcerer walks into the room. Shadow Weaver grabs Catra and puts her hand over her mouth to keep her quiet, and Catra (understandably!! but unfortunately!!) jerks away in fury and yells

And her fury causes Melog to drop the invisibility

And now the chipped sorcerer knows they're all there

they manage to duck the attack but Adora goes to transform into She-Ra--and can't do it

she had this issue last episode aaaugh it's not from being near Shadow Weaver she wasn't there

okay but also Adora runs behind a pillar to hide from an attack with Catra and it's cute

girl help why is this giving me so many emotions

y'know it's funny how often I've bumped into posts of people who are confused as to why Adora starts trusting Catra again so quickly, and I frequently wonder if they forget all the childhood flashback scenes of these two. To varying extents they both spent their entire childhoods seeing the other as their only consistent source of comfort and (something resembling) safety, and with some notable exceptions Adora's spent the last four seasons (which was like three or four years) visibly holding out hope that one day she could trust Catra again. This despite the fact that she now has other sources of safety and comfort and love!!! Being with Glimmer and Bow and everyone else was healing, sure; but it never erased her grief over losing Catra. She always, always held out the tiniest flame of hope that Catra would change sides.

And Catra basically tried lighting her own grief on fire (metaphorically and kinda literally) over and over and it just didn't go away, and I feel like when she saved Glimmer and apologized to Adora she had sort of come to terms with the fact that her grief over losing Adora couldn't be burned away, but of course by then she figured she'd fucked up so bad Adora would never forgive her or trust her again. And rather than take it out on other people or suffer any longer she was willing to just die, instead. She really did think that sending Glimmer to Adora was going to be her last act, and she wanted Adora to know she was sorry before she fucking DIED. And I don't think her saving Glimmer was consciously meant to be proof that she meant her apology, but it was. And that's part of why Adora trusts her again.

The fact is, even after everything that happened, both of them had a hole in their hearts shaped like the other. ;_;

And that's why Adora runs and hides behind the same pillar as Catra. (I mean yes, it was also closer, but that's not tHE POINT)

Anyway, this is all why, as I previously noted, Adora's not being pushy. That failed on her, spectacularly; the couple of times she tried it. Asking Catra to come along on this mission is the closest she's come. And even then, it wasn't "you're a good person deep down and you should change sides because I think I know you better than you know yourself," It was "please do this for me, because I need your help." And Catra is fully aware of how hard that is for Adora.

And these two still have a lot to work out post-canon (like, Catra has still got to deal with her need to not just be seen as Adora's sidekick/shadow, and lbh right now some of the rebellion is like "we're only putting up with you for Adora's sake" as if Catra was Yoko Ono) but that's part of why I'm writing a fic lolol

I have so many feelingssss on a related note I spent like fifteen solid minutes last night in bed having taken an edible and listening to my playlist and staring at this gifset lolol

ANYWAY Castaspella knocks out the chipped dude and they run for it

AAAND lol I gotta get ready to go to church. There's still 17:30 left on this episode. Pfft.

BACK FROM CHURCH I washed someone's feet, they washed mine, they stripped the altar, I go back at one or two in the morning for the overnight vigil

In the meantime: gonna finish this episode

(what is my life sometimes)

Entrapta plans to find a bunch of clones so she can figure out how their signals to Horde Prime work. Swift Wind is like Ugh, fine, I'll go with you, someone's gotta save your ass

Entrapta: "Thanks, bird horse!"

lol how many times have they had that convo

A family can be a sorcerer and her evil ex, a girl and a boy, two traumatized lesbians, and a cat

But also it looks like something out of an episode of Scooby Doo

Shadow Weaver opens a magic door

ngl that's PRETTY. like it's obviously about the Heart of Etheria but wow!

(and there's a dinosaur???)

Adora notices how stressed out Catra is and says "It'll be okay...Trust me." ;_;

Shadow Weaver: "There's no time to waste!"

"...disturbance."

The disturbance was your fault, dumbass. I am reminded of all the times my dad got angry at us for being afraid of him. And would hit us. For being. Afraid of him. Because y'know. That's how you stop a kid from being afraid of you. By hitting them.

In any case Shadow Weaver is still trying to get between them and separate them and I just really need this bitch to stop.

(Yes yes I remember she dies later)

Castaspella: "We're on the right path. The Crystal of Arxia was rumored to be the key to reaching deep magic within Etheria."

"But those who hungered for more power have long sought other ways to obtain the deep magic...with disastrous results."

HIT THE IMAGE LIMIT lemme reblog

#april rewatches spop #failsafe

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mommypills · 10 months ago

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Life is Strange Rewrite

HELLO CHAT. i know it's been entirely too long since i've posted anything but i feel like i need to get this out somewhere besides in my poor friends' dms. i have no idea how active the LiS tags are, but it matters not; i am ready to unleash my super autism upon whoever is willing to read this post!

you've read the title, i assume. i started rewatching a playthrough of LiS and BtS fairly recently, though i've been a fan since... well... a while. at least since 2018, perhaps earlier. i will admit, i wasn't quite in tune with the story during those years because i was a young child. simply put, i grew up with this series—thank you for introducing me to these awkward lesbians, ma—and had almost no outside opinions to consider.

enter 2024 hal with internet access and a dozen friends who don't mind discussing things with me. i have one friend who has a distaste for the game and was in the same boat with me until somewhat recently. to keep it short, they don't like chloe because of all the things she's done throughout the entire game; especially the options where you choose to go against her. i have probably given chloe the benefit of the doubt for years due to my heavy relating to her character... unfortunately.

as you would guess, i consider myself a writer. i do writer things, like stare at a google doc for 30 minutes and wonder when my brain will finally let me get words on there. and because i am many more steps above my younger self in terms of writer brain, chloe's character confuses me to a curiously dog-shaped degree. i am conflicted. yes, her father died and max left her around that time, but would that justify or even make sense how she became the chloe in LiS? on the other hand, it makes sense. i have seen what happened to her happen to someone else. that gradual change, being stuck in the past whereas everyone has moved on, not having a support group, being infinitely lonely, falling into the deepest depths of the crevice of your brain... i understand; more so than the average LiS fan.

(if you're rory, my wife, stop reading from here, please <3 until we finish that watchalong)

i have always chalked chloe up as the sensitive type. she would never admit it, but i've always seen her as someone who is highly reactive to her environment. she took the death of her dad and max's departure disastrously, she was absolutely distraught when rachel was stabbed, she took rachel's death horribly, plus at any sign of "you will die" danger she immediately becomes rigid. i could just be unreactive, but this all seems to be signs of an environmentally sensitive individual—not to mention her general behavior when talking to max about the incident in the BtS DLC! i could just be misremembering that, though, so take that with a grain of salt. one could also interpret her being dependent on max—even before her dad's death—and later rachel. also she?? basically has hallucinations of her dad???? i guess???? why does nobody talk about that wtf

apologies, i went a little bit off-topic. my point in the last two paragraphs is that i am completely on the fence about chloe as a character. she is both liked and hated, and she is supposed to be a character we would be willing to sacrifice an entire town for. for some people, the bay vs bae option was obvious, whether it was because they hated chloe or adored her. here is the horrendous segue because i don't know how to connect this thought and the next.

i began to think: what if i were to rewrite life is strange and before the storm?

i'll give you some information and talking points on what i have currently (minus some bullet points i've omitted because they're not ready for the world) and you will tell me whether i should keep cooking or stop before i burn the building down.

BEFORE THE STORM

// change rachel's situation with her parents. make her justifiably hate her dad and make her go to her biological mother to tell the truth, i don't really get rachel's whole thing about her parents. it hurts to be lied to in general, but rose is the woman that raised you lil bro. i would get it if she were mistreated, but she wasn't. no reason to have the story based around that when it doesn't make sense, so let's switch it up. the easiest way to do this would be to make them abusive. make her think that things would be better if her bio mother stayed and/or if she met up with her (this would turn out wrong when they find out that she is an addict, and does a little bit of #manipulation.) not canon in the games, but making her biological mother a bad person would be very poetic. there could be an episode dedicated to chloe trying to pull rachel away from her bio mother because shes ass tm. and this transitions into my next idea...

// make chloe the "i can fix her" type, the residue of herself from before her father died. hell, make her character a bit different from the LiS 1 chloe! maybe have her be a combination of pre-william death chloe and post-william death chloe. this portion was initially "make it take place a year or two after william's death" but then i realized that it DOES take place approximately two years after. so, i'm changing this point to being "make it take place 6 months to a year after his death" so we can explore her character more. by the end of this, make chloe further traumatized. or at the very least, make all these events impact her so much that she ends up becoming the woman she is in LiS 1... of which some people in-game would describe her as "broken" or "irreversibly damaged" (i wrote this before learning that rachel's dad actually said this about her, by the way! jesus, man.) and make the thing longer than 3 damn episodes.

LIFE IS STRANGE

// make max and chloe parallel chloe and rachel, except their relationship gets less and less problematic as time goes on rachel's relationship with chloe is... certainly something. i don't have any strong opinions on amberprice, but what i DO know is that rachel is chloe's BIGGEST enabler and absolutely contributed to why she's like the way she is. she's like the devil on your shoulder saying "burn down that orphanage" except chloe doesn't have an angel on the other side. the thing that makes max different from chloe in BtS is that she is the "i can help her" type. all for therapy and shit. make them both go to therapy actually. perhaps even have a duo counseling scene where they air things out and finally forgive both themselves and each other. genuinely have no idea why therapy was never seriously included in any LiS game so far considering the kind of shit they go through.

and that is it! thank you for sitting through this hefty wall of text. i am infinitely sorry for yapping, but i'm just an autistic little lesbian who loves these dorky ass weirdos. i will not take any more of your time—this is where the post ends.

i was not eating those beans☹️

#life is strange #life is strange before the storm #chloe price #rachel amber #max caulfield #trying not to add excessive tags aahhh i'm trying my best #life is strange discussion #i love the time traveling lesbian and her punk german shepherd

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aircloud123 · 15 days ago

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#bedding #bedroom #mattress #luxury #mattress topper

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windona · 1 year ago

Note

For prompting night: a choice between 'Sokka discovers social media' (which would probably be a disaster lol) or 'a council of avatars probably not providing the best advice' (you know why). lol

Aang sighed. He had run all over the world, learned well from the monks, but he was no expert in politics and economics. Yet he was one of the few people who understood what a world at peace actually looked like, and the few who could be looked at as a trustworthy authority to all nations.

For a given value of trustworthy, Aang supposed.

Despite everyone looking at him, Aang knew he was not an expert at bureaucracy and politics and money. Luckily, he knew some who were.

He meditated, and looked as his past lives from the previous cycle spread out in front of him.

Roku looked to the side, then at him. "You require our advice, Aang?"

Aang nodded. "The Republic is a new and fragile experiment. There is also the peace between the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom at stake. They keep on talking about tax rates and trade routes, and I know they are important, but even Toph only knows so much about how it works and what's fair. Representatives are at each other's throats and getting ready to fight over it. What do I do?"

Roku stroked his beard. "Be decisive. Make sure that they settle on a plan, and stick to it."

Kuruk shook his head. "No, it sounds like they are just making threats to get more concessions. I know going with the flow was my biggest mistake, but people will work things out if you let them."

Kyoshi nodded sharply. "Be the end of diplomacy if you have trouble with politics. Working out solutions and deals are their job, their training. If they fail, come in full force as a threat to remind them the price of failing in their duty."

Yangchen shook her head. "No, you need to actively shape your destiny and the destiny of the world. Aang, make use of any assets and spies you have. If you have none, try developing a network so you have access to accurate information and know what pressure to apply. Keep a few cover identities in case one loyal to you is burned, or needs a new cover identity."

The other three looked at her. She raised an eyebrow back in challenge.

Coughing, Roku turned back. "Perhaps you should ask the Fire Avatar before me, Avatar Szeto."

"Would he understand the laws and regulations of Aang's time?" Kyoshi frowned.

"He would be better equipped than us."

Aang tilted his head. "Avatar Szeto? Didn't he write laws or something?"

"'Or something'. Through my reforms, the Fire Nation was able to achieve stability, and they were adopted elsewhere." Aang turned around to see another of his past lives. "My skill lies in administration. Tell me, Aang, what trials do you face?"

Much later, everyone would remark in amazement as Avatar Aang managed to make a deal that would encourage economic growth within the Republic, Fire Nation, and Earth Kingdom areas that traded with each other.

#prompting night #Aang #Yangchen #Szeto #Avatar the last Airbender #yes Yangchen used spies and played politics well

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dbh-bb · 1 year ago

Text

Yet More Questions

As we come up to the final sign up deadline for Artists we've been receiving a lot of questions about how much we expect by June 1st, so we wanted clarify some information for both artists and writers

ARTISTS

Oh my god, how much do I have to have ready to submit by 01 June? What will the form ask for?

The form will ask you to submit the following things:

Identifying info (obvs), including whether you are a minor

Your willingness to be paired with a minor

A sketch, layout, or concept of your art

The premise of your concept for the story

Ratings you’d be happy with on the story

Things you really don’t want to see in the story

Let’s break down a few of those.

Sketch, layout, or concept of your art:

This should be substantial enough to get your idea across to the writer. It does not have to be finished or near-finished (although it can be if you’re there). If you work in a medium that takes significant time to generate, or where the concept of a “sketch” is hard to apply (such as 3D render art, gifs, or fanvids), do your best to express what the idea is. This could include a storyboard, a rough sketch, stick figures, and/or references/examples to show what you mean. We want the writers to get the general idea of what the final art will look like.

We will ask these submissions to be in standard formats (i.e. .png, .jpg, .gif, etc) that can be accessed on anyone’s computer without the use of special software. Your final art can be in your preferred format.

There will also be a text box where you can describe what the final art will be, like you might for an alt-text.

Premise of your concept for the story:

Artists aren’t just sharing a sketch, they’re sharing the concept behind that sketch. The concept of your story should be enough to give your writer a good direction to head in, without being so limiting that you’re ‘ordering’ a story rather than planting an idea. Yes, you can give ideas for bits of dialogue, and scenes, and major story beats and character dynamics. We want you to be either providing a jumping off point that a writer can build from, or full on working with the writer to tell a story. You need to give them enough that they can write ten thousand words from it, so we want more than the idea for the scene you are depicting yourself and a pairing.

That being said, this isn’t an opportunity to demand a very specific story out of a writer; that’s called a commission. There should still be room for the author to help shape the story as well. As Atro said, you’re giving them the blueprints; they’re building the house.

Things you don’t want to see in the story:

This is where you can let writers know anything you really don’t want added to the story. Including your personal specific do-not-wants is a way to help writers pick which stories they want to bid for. For example: “No X/Y, I prefer X and Y as platonic,” or “Please no background A/B.”

Keep two things in mind: first, writers are not allowed to add any of the AO3 Big Four to a story unless the artist suggests it first. Second, we do expect writers to work with the artist’s concept. So you don’t need to list out every single possible thing you don’t want.

What if my idea is risque, or even extreme?

We’ll make sure you get into the version not provided to minors, and you’ll have the same space to explain your concept as everyone else. Sometimes having a more extreme concept makes it harder to find a writer …but sometimes, you find that one person who does see your vision! All we ask is that you remain flexible in case the idea has to evolve to find you a match.

I’m not a writer. How much do they need for 10,000 words?

In writing terms, 10k and up is a novelette or a novella — either way, a short novel. Significantly, this will introduce plot. Now sometimes people think “plot means an entire movie” and it might not — sometimes the plot is “X and Y on a date.” Sometimes the plot is porn. But 10,000 words gives you both room to play with moving pieces.

Example for artists who don’t write: Let’s use a very generic concept: a heist fic. You want the Jericrew on a heist. THESE ARE ESTIMATES DONT COME AT ME based on mods being old enough to remember when a drabble was 100 words exactly, but in general:

~3000 words will get you a scene. A dramatic scene or a confrontation! Cool! But a single scene.

5000-7000 words is a bit of the plot. Maybe the heist itself. Or a bit after the heist. More details, some repercussions.

~10,000 words will cover… let’s say planning the heist, executing it, and a bit of what comes after.

A full mystery novel is usually 70,000-90,000 words.

I’ve seen heist fics that break 200K.

This is why the minimum is 10,000 words — we want to generate deeper works where things happen. And the artists get to start the process this year. For those of you who wanted to make multiple arts and are limited by our writer count: this is your chance to think of other artworks you’d like to make within this concept!

WRITERS

How much information / freedom am I going to have?

First: We ask that writers do not add any of the AO3 Big Four to a story unless the artist suggests it.

Second, see above for the information artists are being invited to share, to get a feel for it.

Third: There will be a variety of offers to choose from. Some artists might have a much more vague concept, while others might have a lot of the story in their head already. Remember that writers get to pick in this scenario. So if you prefer jumping into a fully-formed idea, look for those. If you prefer a less-firm idea where you can really collaborate with your partner to flesh it out, look for those.

Artists are expected to understand that their concept is a suggestion, not a commission. So even if an artist sounds like they have a narrow view of the story they want, they know that they need to work with their writer to make it belong to both of you. Even at low levels of collaboration, we’ve seen this work out so that both contributors can be happy. So if there’s an idea you love but/and have suggestions for, go for it — there’s a good chance your artist will be happy with all your enthusiasm.

#detroit: become human #detroit become human #dbh #dbhrbb2024 #reverse big bang #fanart #fanfic #big bang #dbh big bang #detroit become human reverse big bang

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my-head-is-an-animal · 11 months ago

Text

J Is Just A Letter

Chapter 6 - Adler

Lady Smallwood had requested his presence. Mycroft couldn’t deny that it irritated him somewhat, but he did have a duty to keep people informed of the situation in some capacity, he certainly wasn’t going to admit to a known spy and general nuisance straddling him the night before.

‘You’ve called off the search for J, any reason for it?’ Smallwood asked, sitting at her desk unimpressed. Mycroft decided he didn’t want to risk anyone being able to read his body language when talking about her, so he stood at the window and looked out at the view of London below.

‘She made contact last night,’ Mycroft said, musing. ‘She is no longer in danger and an agreement has been reached, one where we will be able to utilise her knowledge and skills.’

‘And what did we have to give up for that?’ Smallwood and the several other council members who were observing, shifted, listening closer.

‘She only wants to open one door.’ He said, trying to extract the words from the memory and not dwell on the circumstances themselves. ‘I’ve told her I will be checking in once a week, she will prove her worth and I will find out which door she wants to open and why. I will not allow her access to state secrets if I can help it.’

‘If you can help it?’

‘She’s a difficult woman to deal with,’ they couldn’t understand the reality of that statement. ‘But not impossible. Patience is key and gaining her trust is vital, but I believe the gain outweighs the loss considerably.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Certain.’

While the council began talking amongst themselves, Mycroft took a moment to think on what he just said, he needed to be sure that the gain was for Britain and not just himself. Of course, if she just wanted one night with him then it could be arranged easily enough, Mycroft would be more than willing to give into her, but if he could extract information from her at the same time than maybe he could convince himself that he really did have the best intentions for the country.

He excused himself from the meeting, idly stating he had work to do and returned to his office. Anthea had given him enough work to occupy himself with for the time being.

Mycroft sat down in the confines of his office and thought on what had happened the night before. He’d never felt so exhilarated in all his life, he’d had a couple of girlfriends whilst at university, the odd encounter at some gala or another, he’d thought those encounters had been heated, but the truth was that she could make him feel more without even kissing him than any woman had made him feel by sleeping with him.

He wondered where the cut on her lip had come from, the bruising on her wrist, he should have asked, shown how observant he could be, she’d like that, she’d like that he was taking her in in such detail. He was aware that she’d barely let out a moan, but the noises she made whilst on top of him were far more beautiful than he’d ever heard before. Mycroft thought on it a little too long, but reminded himself that she was a lustful creature, not a loving one. This was all a game to her, one big show.

He prepared himself over the next few days to check in with her and ask her a question about an operation he was working on, he knew she’d spent some time in Berlin and so would therefore have picked up wind of a few things he might have needed to know.

Lady Smallwood was still asking the terms of the agreement, but Mycroft wasn’t in any mood to tell her a single thing. He just dismissed her and told Anthea to keep everyone out until he was ready. He would need the time to play this right.

Mycroft loosened his tie, he took his suit jacket off and sat back in his chair, mentally preparing himself for what was about to happen.

Two rings.

‘Mycroft.’ She sighed. ‘Is this the first check in?’

‘It is.’

‘Fine. Business first, pleasure second.’

‘The way it should always be.’

‘Until you mix the two together, of course.’ She was teasing him, testing him. Already the memory of her lips grazing his was returning, the feel of her pulse thumping hard under his mouth, it was more arousing than he’d counted on and he took a deep breath to refocus himself.

‘What do you know about our operation in Berlin?’

‘Which one?’

‘Operation Cherry.’

There was a strange pause on the other end of the phone. He could her something akin to soft material rubbing together, if he had to guess, he’d say she was currently sitting in bed.

‘If this is the way you want to do this, can we just assume that I know everything about every operation you’re running?’

Mycroft let a slow breath out. ‘Fine. We aren’t going to stop the cargo from being taken, instead we’d like to intercept the hand off. Where is the meeting point?’

She paused once again and Mycroft listened to the soft sound of her breathing. ‘Lebus is the most likely point for exchange.’

‘Lebus?’

‘It’s about an hour and a half east of Berlin on the Polish border. You’ll find the hand off at the fork in the road between Schulstraße and Oderstraße. But they’ll be taking precautions.’

‘We can handle a security detail.’

‘I’m sure you can.’

Mycroft paused, he remembered the other part of the deal, she was to choose a topic of conversation, he was dreading it, but he was also excited by it.

‘I suppose that’s the business end of this conversation over.’ Mycroft sighed. ‘What would you like to talk about?’

‘What did you do after I left a few nights ago?’

‘Nothing. I finished my work and went to bed.’

‘Is that it?’

‘Was there something you were hoping I would be doing?’

‘Indulging.’ The way she said the word had his chest inflating suddenly. In truth, he’d thought about it, but somehow he couldn’t bear the thought of coming without her.

‘No, I showered instead.’ Mycroft felt a little ashamed. ‘What did you do?’

‘I went back to work.’

‘So, no indulging for you either then?’

‘I’m afraid not. I had rather hoped we could have done that together.’

Mycroft swallowed thickly. The thought on it’s own was making his sitting position uncomfortable.

‘How did it feel?’

‘What?’

‘To have me on top of you.’

Mycroft didn’t know how to answer. ‘It was certainly an experience.’

‘Well that much was obvious,’ she chuckled. ‘But tell me how it made you feel.’

Mycroft swallowed thickly. ‘Warm.’

‘Warm?’

‘What’s wrong with warm?’

‘Nothing, but I had hoped for more than a four letter word.’

Mycroft thought for a moment. ‘Indulgent.’ He settled on.

‘Hmm, now there’s a word I like to hear you say. You have a fantastic vocabulary, Mr Holmes. I do hope I get to reap the benefits one day.’

‘I’m sure you’ll drag it out of me, much like you have with other things.’

‘What things?’

Mycroft was silent.

‘I’m in bed at the moment,’ she said, noting his reluctance to speak. ‘I’m looking out of the window and wondering why on earth I’m still alone at this time of night.’

‘Night?’

‘I told you, I had work to do.’ She was getting out of bed, going outside, he could hear the cool breeze. ‘Indulge me. Ask me what I’m wearing.’

Mycroft glanced towards his office door, it was soundproof, no one could hear him. ‘What are you wearing?’

‘Nothing.’ She whispered. Mycroft had to adjust his position in his chair, his trousers were tight. ‘Mmmm, the breeze feels nice against my skin.’ He could see it, he could see the way her body was reacting, it was so clear in his mind. ‘The view is beautiful. Would you watch it with me?’

‘I would.’ He could hear the shake in his own voice, giving himself away.

‘Would you kiss me?’

‘Yes.’ His voice was turning into a whisper as well.

‘Would you touch me?’

Mycroft sucked in a deep breath, all he could see was the black and white photo, the one of her beside the bedpost. Waiting for him. He could suddenly hear a soft beeping, unsure of if it was from outside his office or from her end.

‘Well?’

‘I would.’ He said, lowly.

‘Where?’

‘Wherever you want.’

‘Wherever I want?’

Mycroft closed his eyes. ‘Wherever I want.’ He adjusted his wording.

‘And where do you want to touch me?’

Mycroft swallowed thickly, his breathing was completely disrupted, he was verging on panting, how could she do this to him just by talking?

‘Everywhere.’ He breathed. He listened to her take her own deep breath and bite her lip, he knew her pulse would be pounding against her skin by now. ‘Racing.’ He whispered.

‘Yes.’ She breathed. The beeping sound got a little louder and he heard the hitch in her breathing, like a fly in the ointment. ‘It’s been a pleasure, Mr Holmes. Until next time.’

‘Until next time.’ Mycroft repeated.

J hung up the phone and left Mycroft feeling empty once again. Whatever the beeping was, it demanded her attention and he felt a sudden and vicious hatred for it. Mycroft took the time to refocus himself, prepare to face the company outside of his office and at least look like he wasn’t pining after an enemy of the state.

‘And she just gave you this information?’ Lady Smallwood asked, they stood in the surveillance room watching the hand off occur of the precious cargo.

‘She’s proving her worth.’ Mycroft said, cryptically, Not taking his eyes off the screen.

‘What did we have to give her in exchange?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Nothing yet.’ Mycroft corrected himself. They watched the hand off get disrupted, the team went in and secured the precious cargo and the infiltration cells and the operation was over before it really go started. ‘Once I’ve learnt which door she wants open, we will know more about J than ever before, but unfortunately, she will see it coming. Patience will be needed.’

‘She thinks she’s getting a special key card that opens every secure door in the country?’ Smallwood scoffed. ‘Dear lord, what kind of childish fantasies is this girl living in?’

‘There is of course the possibility that she will anticipate our every move and with her resources it’s hard to say who will be living in who’s fantasy, Lady Smallwood.’ Mycroft turned towards her finally. ‘Best leave her to me for the time being. She wanted my attention, now she’s got it. Time to see what she’ll do with it.’

‘You’re sure you know what you’re doing?’

Mycroft just gave her a glare as if to ask if she was seriously asking him that question.

In the next few weeks, Mycroft found that J’s knowledge of things she should be completely unaware of, far exceeded anything he’d ever imagined. She knew dates and times of terrorist cells, hideouts of drug lords, code names and words that seemed so insignificant and out of context, Mycroft wondered if she got it right. When he put all this information into place, it was right. He had a new admiration for her, one that had him secretly begging for her to pay him another visit.

Their conversations were always conducted in two parts, business first, pleasure second. But the pleasure part of the conversation was often interrupted and increasingly often dismissed by J, claiming she needed to get to work, but not before she had ignited him, not before she had made his body react to her simple breathing or tiny noise that told him everything he needed to know. On one occasion, he was sure he could hear her panicking, panting hard and possibly running. He wondered if there was something more going on that he was unaware of.

Mycroft had no reason to call her one week, no pressing operation or case to ask her about, but he was growing concerned. He got into the back of his car and looked down at his phone, debating whether he should call her, it was the right time to do so, same time every week, like clockwork. Even if it was just to indulge in her voice for a while then he would do that, he wasn’t keeping up with his end of the bargain and he couldn’t risk losing her as an asset. At least that was what he told himself.

He took a breath as the car started up and went to dial the number he had memorised, but a message popped up instead.

J: Postpone your call tonight. I have work to do.

Mycroft frowned at the message. She rarely ever text, she liked to hear his voice, she liked listening to the effect she had on him.

MH: For how long?

J: One hour, this won’t take long.

MH: One hour it is.

Mycroft wanted to run a trace on the number, but he’d done it before and come up short, there was no reason to suspect she was even in the country.

He drove through London thinking about the week he’d had and how boring it had been, but if he had cared to look out of the window driving down one particular street, he would have noticed the one thing that sucked the boring out of his life. J walking into Irene Alder’s London home. Mycroft didn’t look up, if he had, she might not have stepped through the front door at all, he may well have convinced her to join him in the back of the car and that point, anything could have happened. Anything that wasn’t boring.

She stepped into the beautiful London home and inhaled the scent of leather, Irene was a woman of taste, impeccable taste. In another life, they might have been friends.

‘She’s with a client.’ The woman’s whose name J could never remember, spoke from the end of the hallway. ‘She won’t be much longer. There’s tea waiting in the lounge.’

J nodded, carrying her clutch close to her waist, she entered into the lounge and made herself comfortable. She was annoyed that she needed to postpone Mycroft’s call, she wanted to hear his voice, it had been far too long since she listened to his soft breathing, his every little movement of his lips, his tongue coming out the lick them, his throat making a soft gulping noise when she really teased him.

It was another five minutes before Irene was finished with her client, it was obvious from what J had seen that it was one of the royals, but she couldn’t care less who, she was there for more important reasons.

‘Well, who slapped you the wrong way?’ Irene said as she entered wearing her usual lace robe and little else. She was a stunningly beautiful woman and J wasn’t one to deny it. ‘Should’ve used the other side of the hand, back hands are never much fun in my opinion.’

‘Nor mine.’ J felt the flare in her cheek, the bruise that Irene was referring to.

‘No, you prefer a more delicate touch,’ she said, pouring herself some tea. ‘Firm, but delicate.’

J just observed her and knew exactly what the first move would be.

‘Is Mr Holmes everything you hoped he would be?’

J said nothing.

‘I’m just curious.’ Irene shrugged, settled in the chair on the other side of the lounge and sipped her tea. ‘I can’t say I understand your fascination, but I’m not one to judge taste.’

‘Clearly not.’ J took a mouthful of tea, before diving into her clutch and pulling out a memory stick. ‘I heard you were looking for some things, a little information on several important figures in the French election. I’m more than happy to give it to you.’

‘In exchange for?’

‘A truce.’ J made her position clear. ‘It’s either you or Jim whose chasing me, I didn’t work it out for a while, but after tugging on a few of your strings, the chase became more dangerous.’

‘So, that was you in Berlin?’ Irene said, intrigued. ‘I have to say I was exceptionally impressed with Mycroft’s ability to anticipate where my boys would drive, but it makes sense now, it wasn’t Mycroft at all, it was you.’

‘It was.’ J nodded, she wanted to add that Irene should probably avoid using the same men twice if she didn’t want to get caught again, but there was no point now. ‘But I can’t afford for those small victories to cost me so dearly. So, this is my proposal. A trade. A truce. I have what you need for the election, every piece of it, all I need is the key code.’

‘What key code?’

‘We can play it that way if you want, but it won’t end well.’ J shot back immediately.

Irene thought for just a moment before knowing J was serious.

‘Fine.’ She said. ‘I don’t have it, but I know how to get it.’

J nodded and put the memory stick back in her clutch.

‘I see.’ Irene leaned forward, elbows on her knees. ‘I’ll have it brought here within the hour.’

‘Best make it in the next thirty minutes, I have other people to visit today.’

‘You mean one other person.’ Irene raised her eyebrow.

J just gave a coy smile. ‘No. I mean people. Some of us are not so fortunate to spend more time on pleasure than business.’

‘No, I suppose not.’ The two women hadn’t broken eye contact since the start of the conversation. Irene only did so to make a phone call and get the code that would open the one door J needed to access, but after that there was a peace between them. ‘Apologies about the back hand, I did tell them not to break the skin. Did you put ice on it?’

‘Yes, this was as good as it got.’

Irene nodded while they waited, both of them getting comfortable again.

‘What’s he like?’

‘Who?’ J frowned suspiciously.

‘Mycroft Holmes, of course, I imagine if we’re calling a truce to this little game then there’s no real reason we can’t be friends.’ Irene sat back and drank some more of her tea. She was right, if they were no longer enemies then perhaps there was room for them to be casual acquaintances.

‘I don’t think friendship is really an option, Miss Adler.’ J smirked. ‘Neither help nor hinder, we stay out of each other’s way.’

‘Absolutely, you’re not the only one whose suffered because of this little feud. Neither help nor hinder.’ She agreed. ‘Now tell me why you find him so fascinating.’

J smiled, Irene was nothing if not a woman of her word. ‘I think you do yourself a disservice. The Iceman, that’s what Jim calls him. Ever seen a man made of ice, melt in front of your eyes? Almost makes everything else worth it.’

‘So, it really is a game?’ Irene clarified. ‘Here I thought you were catching feelings.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ J scoffed. ‘I’m just passing the time.’

The key code arrived only a few minutes later and the deal with complete. Irene had the information she’d been seeking for months and J had access to the door. Finally, this nightmare would be over for them both.

Once J was in possession of what she needed, she had another stop to make before heading home for the first time in six years.

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#mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft holmes #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #fanfic

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