#90% of the notes is campaigning for scourge too so its like.

[vellengeful]

at the risk of sounding like a sore loser, im starting to wonder if someones botting the transmasc tourney in starlines favor

[theherothechampiontheinquisitor]

You’ve Got Mail - Chapter 1

Summary:: Belle French and Callan Gold meet in an AOL chatroom in the late 90′s and quickly bonded over email. Little do they know that in real life they are business rivals that completely hate each other. 

Originally published under melissabosquez, September 2014. Cover by Midstorm

Belle French held her breath and watched slyly from the curtain of her bedroom window for her long term live in boyfriend, Geoffrey, to exit the building on his way to work. The mornings were the favorite part of her day, especially when her boyfriend was gone so that she could indulge herself in one of her guilty pleasures; the internet. Geoffrey was a bit of a technophobe that was convinced that modern advancements were going to be the downfall of all mankind, beginning with the internet. Whenever he caught Belle online he would begin harping his conspiracy theories and it was easier for her just to wait until he was gone. He didn’t like what he couldn’t seem to understand, whereas Belle appreciated it for the marvel it was.

They had been in a relationship together for nearly five years now and it had become a thing of habit more than any kind of love or connection. She didn’t doubt that Geoffrey was any more interested in her than she was in him. He was convenient though. Comfortable.

She waited for a few more moments and finally he appeared out the front door of their apartment complex and was on his way down the street. With a squeal Belle dropped the curtain and ran the short distance from the window to her desk and opened up her portable computer with a grin. With a grin and the crack of her knuckles she double clicked the AOL icon and waited to be connected to the internet.

If Belle was perfectly honest with herself, it wasn’t exactly the wondrous depths of knowledge or endless possibilities that the internet entailed that excited her. Those were all good things and she loved to see how things progressed further but all she really was looking forward to was three little words. You’ve. Got. Mail. She smiled and spoke the words out loud in time with the computer voice, quickly clicking on the icon of a letter waiting in a mailbox. The page loaded and she felt her stomach tighten in anticipation as she was rewarded with an email from her favorite person, thespinner61.

Belle had met thespinner61 in an AOL chat room several months ago by accident. It was supposed to be a chat room to talk about common interests in books but turned out to be nothing but crude jokes and desperate attempts at cybersex. Belle had almost logged off after several sexist comments were directed towards her for not instantly responding to queries of her a/s/l. To be honest she had no idea what that even meant. Before she could respond thespinner61 came to her rescue and responded, “Go shake your ears.” Belle had laughed, catching the literary reference to Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare. It had very obviously flown over the head of her aggressor to which thespinner61 replied again, “The simplicity of your character makes you exquisitely incomprehensible to me,” and “If I were as ignorant as you Ben Rogers I wouldn’t let on.” Each quote taken from The Importance of Being Earnest and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn respectively. He had won her over instantly.

After that incident they had started sending each other emails back and forth for literal hours on end. They talked about all kinds of things. Literature, politics, art, film. Sometimes they even talked about things as simple as the weather and it never felt awkward or forced. The one thing they agreed to not speak of were things that were too personal. Names, ages, addresses and the like were never brought up. The only thing Belle knew was that he too lived in New York City and he had a long term girlfriend of his own.

They had been sending each other emails back and forth for five months now and the thrill of “you’ve got mail” had yet to wane.

To: bookworm1984

Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: books you must read spinner!

My dearest bookworm. I write to you from the middle of Atlanta as all hell is breaking loose as General Sherman and his Army invade. Our lovely protagonists have just braved all peril to escape and now have shared a very personal smooch before Rhett has decided (rather foolishly and quite dramatically) to go back and join the war efforts, leaving our strong, but distressed damsel to her own devices as she plots to make it to Tara.

If you haven’t noticed, at your quite incessant behest, I am hundreds of pages into your favorite literary endeavour, Gone With The Wind. Not exactly my cup of tea so far but I cannot say I am entirely dissatisfied with the quality of writing. Margaret Mitchell has a very distinct style and I must say that I quite enjoy when she becomes caught up in her descriptions, especially of the surroundings. It’s enchanting in its own way. I will continue the ill-fated adventures of Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett Butler when I return home this evening.

Tell me, now that I have started your novel, will you finally stop your hemming and hawing and pick up the Hunter S. Thompson novel we were discussing? I promise, his political commentary is often surprising, always amusing and generally spot on in ways you would never imagine. I recommend Fear and Loathing On the Campaign Trail ‘72. Great introduction to his Gonzo journalism. I raise a glass of Wild Turkey to him for that one.

From the thumping noises coming from above, it would seem that the dragon has finally stirred. Best I get the coffee pot brewing before she scourges me with her hellfire.

One last note in regards to your work related problem. Tell the guy threatening your business to fuck off. Stand up for yourself. Do the brave thing and bravery shall follow my dear.

----Spinner

You’ve got mail!

Callan Gold turned back to look at his open laptop on the table. Bookworm was a fast writer this morning he thought with a smile. Normally she took longer to respond, indicating that she was pensive and probably didn’t agree with something that he had said, usually something over literature. The faster she responded, the better mood that she was in, the more excited she was to discuss things.

Turning back to the coffee mug he was fixing, he added three packets of sugar and some hazelnut creamer, stirring and finishing just in time to hand it off to it’s recipient, Mal, as she stumbled blindly through the swinging kitchen door. Mornings were not Mal’s high points of the day, whereas Callan had always been a bit of an early riser.

Mal graciously accepted the steaming cup and slinked into one of the chairs at the small breakfast table. She shoved Callan’s laptop back over to his side of the table as he rejoined her. He raised an eyebrow to her as she slurped the coffee down, not seeming to care how hot it was.

“I’m starting to believe you are really a dragon with your high tolerance to scorching coffee,” he smirked and resumed reading his newspaper as Mal made an incomprehensible grunt, finishing her first cup of coffee of the day and standing to fix another.

He and Mallory had been going through this same routine for decades. First as friends and then as more, though he would hesitate to call her his girlfriend. Their relationship wasn’t like that. They were more roommates. With benefits. They lived together, worked together, slept together but there was no real romantic love between them. They had been friends longer than Callan could even remember. One day not too long after his wife had left him and took their now estranged son with her, Mallory had shown up at his door and never left.

It was an arrangement that they both were happy with. Neither of them had to be alone anymore.

Mal took a drink out of her second cup of coffee and feeling decidedly more human, leaned back against the counter and eyed Callan though his face was obscured by the paper.

“So, do we have any small business owners lives to ruin today?” she asked, her voice still a bit raspy with sleep, a hand combing through her messy blonde hair.

“Only one today I’m afraid. That same damn little bookshop around the corner from where we are building. The owner is stubborn as a mule, refuses to sell. I sent her one last offer that I think may entice her. If not well, don’t say that we didn’t try to help her come six months down the road when her little shop is in the hole,” he answered back, folding the paper up in front of him.

Mal gave him a crooked smile. “There’s a reason that you are known more for your cruel business tactics than your shite coffee.”

“I’m a tea man, Mal. You’ve known this for 20 years. Perhaps if you could wake up at a normal time you could make your own coffee instead of being forced to have your first five cups of the day be my ‘shite’ brew.”

Mal laughed in response. That was something that would definitely never be happening. “Well, I’m off to shower, Cal, I’ll be ready to go quicker than you can say Maleficent!” she winked in regards to the nickname he had given her when he didn’t think she was listening.

Callan waited until he heard the tell tale screech of the shower faucet coming to life before he pulled his laptop in front of him and grinned at the unread message from bookworm1984.

To: thespinner61

Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: books you must read spinner!

The Hunter S. Thompson speech again? After seeing that Johnny Depp film based off of his book last year I must admit that I am still a bit sceptical to read any of his works. Though the film did have a few redeeming qualities, particularly the wave speech at the end as he discusses the death of the American dream. I will trust you on this just as you have trusted me on Margaret Mitchell.

Speaking of, I promise that you will quite enjoy Gone With the Wind if you will quit being so cynical. You are right though, MM’s imagery is one of my favorite things of the book. Aside from the strong female characters and the delightfully scandalous Captain Butler.

Perhaps I shall take a page from Scarlett O’ Hara’s book and stop being worried all of the time. I’ll think of my problems tomorrow and accomplish what I need to today. I suppose I should keep this passage in mind...

“A startling thought this, that a woman could handle business matters as well as or better than a man, a revolutionary thought to Scarlett who had been reared in the tradition that men were omniscient and women none too bright.”

I will take your advice to heart my friend. Do the brave thing and bravery will follow, right? Let you know how it turns out tonight.

Hope you have a great day. Beware the fire breathing dragon.

----bookworm

Callan closed his laptop instead of choosing to respond. He didn’t always consider himself a very sound advice giver but when bookworm1984  had told him she was having trouble with a pushy man trying to hurt her business (which she refused to reveal to him, as per their anonymous disclosure), he knew that she just needed a little bit of a push to stand up for herself. If there was one thing that he knew, it was business. He was glad he could at least inspire marginal confidence and hoped that it would all work out for her in the end.

As the CEO of a successful, multi-billion dollar chain of bookstores, Golden Books,  he would like to think that he knew a few things about chasing away a competitor. After today, if the owner of Fairytale Corner accepted his buy out offer, his new store would be the only bookstore around for miles.

Packing up his things he moved towards the staircase as he heard Mal beginning to make her way down. It always amazed him how quickly she could go from the monster that morning to the beautiful, intimidating business woman she now presented herself as.

“Intimidating as always, my dear,” he joked, taking her hand in his and kissing it.

“Why, Cal, you aren’t turning romantic on me now are you?” she raised a brow.

“Of course not, we have business to tend to. If Fairytale Corner decides not to sell then we will just have to put them out of business the old fashioned way,” he grinned, already calculating plans in his mind.

“What’s the owner’s name again? I will give them a call before lunch, see if I can push this little deal along any quicker.”

“I think it’s something french sounding,” he said as he pulled a few papers out of his briefcase. “Ah, yes. Ms. Belle French, owner since her mother passed away five years ago.”

Mal accepted the papers from Callan and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Well, lets go kick this little girl out of the neighborhood then.”

Callan offered her a smile and then his arm as they made their way out the door.