#answer our emails you cowards | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

laurabwrites · 2 years ago

Text

Plotting out loud, because I can. astolat/GoT fanfic edition.

So I’m going to do some plotting here, because if I can’t build a sequel plot to an AO3 fanfic on Tumblr, where else am I going to build it? My head? I’ll never finish it that way!

Right so, Winter’s Crown by Astolat, which is fanfiction of Game of Thrones. This thing consumed me for the 4 or 5 days it was being released. It’s a damn good thing Astolat posted two chapters a day because I was refreshing my email waiting for those chapter notifications two or three times an hour and then injecting several thousand words into my veins the second that notification hit.

Just as a programming note. I’ve read the first third of the first book in Game of Thrones. Most of my knowledge of the series has been absorbed by osmosis from my partner and general pop culture saturation. Moving on.

I loved Winter’s Crown.

I also took one look at the ending and said “well, they’re going to be in a civil war within the year.”

Again, to be clear, the ending was perfect for the story. I’m just also sure that if the story continued we’d be into a war for the Iron Throne, like the main series is actually about.

Here be spoilers for Winter’s Crown.

So, our set-up for the sequel is that Robb is still the King in the North, with all the magical power that crown from the Children of the Forest invested in him. He’s promised/engaged to Shireen, Stannis’s daughter and only heir. You know, the niece of Robert Baratheon, the King of the South/Seven Kingdom (except whoops Robb declared the North independent, so I guess it’s Six Kingdoms now?). Robb is also currently fucking Jamie Lannister. Jamie Lannister who was Robert’s Hand before uh... declaring? taking service? with Robb. (There was magic involved.) Who also probably didn’t actually explicitly break up with Cersei before following Robb out of the throne room on Robb’s orders after the declaration of independence.

ALSO, Stannis has already said to Robb that he intends to declare Robert an oathbreaker as the Protector of the Realm. Which from a strict reading of the situation, Robert WAS. Which Robb has already lain on Robert with the force of magic behind it. Here, I’ll quote: “I name you false kind and false friend, oathbreaker and coward, and may you end your days in the shame and misery your treachery deserves.” Which, as far as I can tell the only witnesses who aren’t Robb’s people are Robert, Cersei, the children, Margaery Tyrell, and a small handful of goldcloaks/Kingsguards. So, I doubt that bit of information is getting publicized by anyone in that room. Which Stannis was not.

Basically, I see war coming from two fronts. One, Stannis declaring Robert an Oathbreaker, which is politically tricky because either Stannis has taken himself out of Robb’s service and is making a play to be the king himself? OR he’s calling Robert an Oathbreaker as one of Robb’s sworn liege lords. Which, yikes. Plays right into the narrative that Cersei has built up for herself: that Robb wants power and will march on the South with the Wildlings and/or Stannis’s men at arms and/or the Lannister men (answering to Jamie).

I think if Cersei left the North alone after the Long Night and Stannis was very clear he was not one of Robb’s lords, Robb and the North would be happy to sit out a war and just work on recovering from the Long Night. Because, again, yikes, about half the population that survived the initial rise of the dead froze to death. The North is not in any shape to be going to war.

But I don’t think Cersei can put herself in someone else’s (Robb’s) shoes and believe they won’t act like a politically duplicitous cunt after power and only power. So she’s going to want to go to war to strike first and protect her own power. And also to pay back the “betrayal” of her brother/lover (Jamie) abandoning her. Also Stannis’s betrayal of swearing to the King in the North. But I think she’ll care about Jamie’s more.

And I think Robert isn’t strong enough, morally, emotionally, etc. to stop her.

So... I tend to think that Stannis at least wouldn’t kick off a war until he could secure his supply lines. Supply lines which after the Long Night freezing a significant portion of the country would be in terrible shape. Especially since the largest supply of excess grain is the Tyrell’s and Cersei has that on her side since Margaery Tyrell is married to Joffrey.

End result is that I think Cersei will kick off the war and Stannis will lay the charge of Oathbreaking as a response. To you know, weaken/divide her forces as much as he can.

What Cersei may not have is a competent General. Robb, Jamie, Stannis, and Tyrion are on the side of the North (whether or not Jamie and Tyrion can stomach fighting their sister and niblings/children, those two at least aren’t on Cersei’s side). Tywin is MIA from Winter’s Crown except as a brief aside in the past tense and may or may not be dead in this iteration of the world. The best General we can reasonably project to be on Cersei’s side is her Uncle Kevan. Who did see the dead with his own eyes, so that might change his thinking on if the charges of Oathbreaking are true and who that means he should fight for.

Meanwhile, Robb/the North has six direwolves, at least 3 giants, Brienne of fucking Tarth, Jon Snow, Jamie Lancaster, Tyrion Lancaster, AND, most importantly, every single hero and every foot soldier of the Long Night who survived who’s willing to be called to arms again (they’d probably all like to just go home and recover, but damn, if their king is calling, these are the people proven to show up when called). A significant portion of that army are Wildlings who are now released from their oaths and will most likely head back home over the Wall. But! There will also likely be a significant number who stay (*cough* Tormaund making eyes at Brienne) and can function well as a scouting force.

So the North has an army that trained and trauma bonded through the Long Night together. Morale/belief in each other and their leaders is going to be high. The Boltons are all dead due to events in Winter’s Crown and the Freys are possibly all to mostly dead, so Robb is not going to be stabbed in the back by traitorous liege lords this go around (no Red Wedding here!). What the North doesn’t have is food.

So, what they need is to get the intelligence of Cersei attacking quickly and to haul ass South where they can pillage food.

As a side note, I am assuming that Danerys does NOT show up with dragons at any point to turn this into a three-way fight. She is not mentioned at all in Winter’s Crown, not even the aside Twyin got, so I’m working off the assumption she’s dead or busy on her side of the sea and will not be appearing in a relevant time frame to this completely hypothetical sequel fanfiction of fanfiction.

So, questions I would need to answer, for myself, before writing: 1) What does Varys choose to do? In GoT, he is canonically more loyal to the realm and thus the people living in it than whoever is on the throne. We know he’s still the Master of Whispers in the Winter’s Crown iteration of the world and was able to slip a number of spies/potential assassins into Robb’s camp. Assassins who were routinely thwarted by Brienne and Tyrion, but all it takes is once. And people might be more willing without the magical terror of the oncoming Long Night/Night’s King. Robb still has the magic invested in crown however, so maybe not. Essentially, I think Varys would be a strong asset for Cersei if she utilizes him (she didn’t earlier because he was telling her information that didn’t fit her world view). And therefore what he choses to do would be important. Tyrion at least knows Varys is the spymaster and to work to counter him.

2) Is Joffrey enough of a cruel bastard to still get offed?

3) Does the accurate parentage of the royal children come out?

Well, this is a lot of thinking about the state of the board at the beginning and not much thinking about ‘plot’ isn’t it? Maybe thinking about a theme would help me out here.

The theme(s) in Winter’s Crown is(are) oaths, the costs of them, being a ‘worthy’ person, and when to adhere to an oath. So I would want this hypothetical sequel’s theme(s) to flow naturally from that. Meaning... the consequences of adhering to your oaths when your opponent doesn’t. Good job brain, the theme is the Prisoner’s Dilemma and what shame and misery is the natural consequence of treachery.

Okay, cool, now I have the overall arc of my plot: a sudden swift victory on Cersei’s side (she seizes the first mover advantage) followed by the slow build to victory of Robb’s side. I picture this slow build to be Robb focusing on the smaller battles and alliances that builds a solid alliance to suddenly at the end sweep Cersei off the board. I’d focus on getting smaller lords on their side and peeling away minor but consequential logistical goods from Cersei’s side (armies march on good boots kind of thing) while Robb keeps his army out of direct confrontation with Cersei’s, nibbling away at their numbers in hit-and-run tactics, or swaying the men to withdraw their oaths to their lords and take up service with Robb, or just picking the terrain a battle happens in very carefully.

Too bad I don’t trust my writing chops to write a drawn out war story complete with military campaigns yet... Ah well, into the ideas pile it goes.

#writing #writeblr #amwriting #plotting #WIP #fantasy #really good fanfiction #plotting out loud #world building #I'll read more or less anything astolat publishes

6 notes · View notes

rj-drive-in · 1 year ago

Text

Drunk Science Department:

Another in our continuing series of tales of scientists abusing alcohol.

By the time I got to Boston, I was nearly frantic. It had been almost a week since Professor George had suddenly stopped posting on our common forums and five days since he had failed to show up for the regular Chat. His online friends had quickly become worried; the professor was as regular as clockwork. As someone who knew him IRL from several meet-ups, it fell to me to track him down, to make sure he was all right. After all, he was not exactly a young man and was as prone to accident or illness as anyone else.

But he did not respond to PMs or emails. He did not pick up the phone or answer voice mails. IMs and texts were equally useless. The mood on the forums began to grow more pessimistic. Of course, it was not unusual for people to lose interest in online chatter and drift away– it happened all the time– but this was uncharacteristic of the professor. We all felt that something was terribly wrong.

As luck would have it, I was to be in Washington on business the following week, so it was no trouble to leave a couple of days early and insert a layover at Logan into my itinerary. The professor had hosted one of our meet-ups, a mere eighteen months earlier, at a cookout on his property, so I knew exactly where he lived. It was a nice old home in Ipswich, less than an hour north of the airport by car. He lived alone.

My flight was late in arriving, as usual, but my rented car was waiting for me and I headed out without delay. Needless to say, throughout the trip I continued my attempts to contact him by all the usual means, but he remained as silent as ever.

When I pulled into his driveway about three oclock in the afternoon, his car was parked there and his house showed no outward signs of trouble. It was a two-storey home, more than a century old, weather-worn from the ocean and gray as a summer storm, but well kept up, its small, grassy yard ringed by high hedges. I walked up to the side door on the open porch that we had used during the meet-up and rang the doorbell. When there was no response, I opened the screen door and knocked on the glass window of the inner door.

For ten minutes I continued ringing and knocking, my knuckles rapping louder and louder with each attempt. I alternated back and forth between the glass and the wood, not sure which was louder; I began to fear the old glass would shatter. But nobody answered and there were no sounds from within.

I took a deep breath and considered calling the police. In my mind’s eye, I saw the professor lying dead on the floor of his lab, having been stricken by a sudden heart attack or aneurysm; or twisted and broken at the foot of the stairs or in the bathtub, having tripped or slipped. The sensible thing to do would have been to call the police, but in my heart of hearts I am the same as everyone else– a coward afraid of making a fool of himself.

So I tried the doorknob.

It opened. The door was unlocked. God help me, I thought. I was committed.

A kind of anxious fog engulfed me, a slow and surreal haze of fear, as I entered the man’s house uninvited. “Professor?” I called softly. Then more loudly, “Professor George? Are you home? It’s me, MandelbrotFan, from GalacticBBS.”

There was no answer. The side door opened into his kitchen. There was no overt sign of trouble. Plenty of dirty dishes in the sink, an unwashed frying pan on the stove and a green rubber trash barrel on the verge of overflowing were normal for someone living alone. There was a small pile of unopened mail and a newspaper on the kitchen table. The date on the newspaper was the day before, giving me my first cause for optimism.

I moved into the living room area, separated from the kitchen only by a stained-wood countertop, and toward the door leading to the basement. The basement was where the professor kept his workshop and that was where he spent most of his time, working on his invention. That was where I was most likely to find him.

The door was ajar– it was the old kind with a brass knob and a lock compatible with a skeleton key– and creaked softly when I pushed it open. I stood at the top of the old wooden stairs, homemade by a previous owner decades in the past, and was relieved to see the yellow glow of artificial light down there from off to the left.

“Professor?” I called again. “Professor George? Are you home? It’s your friend, MandelbrotFan, from GalacticBBS.”

There was no reply.

Taking a deep breath, I went down the stairs and made the hairpin turn at the bottom to face the back of the basement, the large area away from the furnace that the professor had turned into his workshop. It was much as I remembered it from my previous visit. Shelves of tools and parts against two walls, an old rumbling refrigerator, work lights hanging from hooks in the ceiling, black and orange extension cords and surge suppressors in a tangled web on the floor, the old couch and coffee table off to the side– and, of course, taking up the most space, the professor’s invention.

The couch was situated at an angle, its back toward me, so it was a moment before I saw that the professor was sitting in it, his legs stretched out with his feet propped on the coffee table. My heart surged for a moment, then was gripped by an icy fist of fear when I realized he wasn’t moving.

“Professor?” I said, but my voice came out as a whisper. I cleared my throat and then tried again, more loudly. “Professor? Professor, are you all right? It’s me, MandelbrotFan from GalacticBBS.”

For a second that seemed to stretch on forever, nothing happened. Then he stirred and pushed himself up, turning his head toward me over the back of the couch. Even in that first moment, I could tell that his face had become more lined, that his long hair and beard and mustache had grown more gray. He pushed his thick glasses up on his nose and peered at me, blinking, as if he had just woken up.

“Mandelbrot? Is that you?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

“We were all worried about you, Prof,” I said. Prof is the username that the professor is known by on all the science forums. “Nobody has heard from you in a week and you haven’t answered any messages.”

“A week,” he said slowly. “Has it been that long?”

Until now, I had remained standing at the foot of the stairway, but now I began to move cautiously forward. “Yes,” I replied. “We were afraid something had happened to you. What have you been doing?”

He gestured toward his invention with his right hand, and I saw that he was holding a half-empty bottle of liquor.

“My life’s work,” he said bitterly.

His invention– his life’s work– bore a vague resemblance to the time machine in the old George Pal movie. Okay, very vague. It looked more like a stationary exercise bike hooked up to a couple of gutted and re-purposed PCs and a 60s-era Hi Fi system. There was also a pegboard with a jumble of soldered wires and a dozen vacuum tubes. On one side of the machine there was a bank of six car batteries in series arrangement and on the other side another bank of four car batteries in parallel arrangement. On the handlebars were strapped an iPad, with the back pulled off, and a couple of controllers that looked like they came from an Xbox, all wired into the gutted PCs.

“The Dimensional Traveler?” I asked. “What’s wrong? Did it fail?” A generous question, since nobody really believed it had a chance of working.

“No,” he replied, with a laugh that sounded more like a choke. “It works. It works exactly as predicted, down to the last decimal place.” He sniffed and took a swig from the bottle and I realized belatedly that he was dead drunk.

I strayed casually across the basement to the machine and looked it over. It was humming quietly with power, but seemed to be in standby mode. The iPad screen was on and displayed a homemade status panel. The current location box said “37,132.”

Turning to face him, I almost cringed. He looked terrible. I took a couple of steps closer to him and held out my hand for the bottle, which he handed over without argument. I took a small drink and held onto it. Maybe he’d let me keep it away from him.

“Then what’s wrong?” I asked. “Obviously something didn’t go as planned. You’re not exactly celebrating.”

“It’s infinity out there,” he said quietly, with a shake of his head.

“Yeah,” I said. “An infinity of parallel universes. Alternate dimensions each just a little bit different from the last.” At first, in the nearby dimensions, the differences might not even be noticeable, but the effect would get more pronounced the farther you went– a different president in the White House, a different outcome to World War II, or maybe Rome never fell or dinosaurs still existed. You might be rich or poor or famous or even dead. If the theory was correct, all possible universes existed.

“You don’t get it!” he grumbled. “But I didn’t get it either. Infinity means infinity. The universes aren’t just parallel, they’re adjacent. They’re sequential. You can’t get from point A to point C without going through point B. You can’t go from level one to level ten without crossing the intervening eight.”

“But what difference does it make? You predicted that, right? You said there is no quantum interval of time between the dimensions. What did you call them? The Branes? It takes literally no time to get from one to another. The only passage of time is what you spend in a particular world, and that can be a fraction of a second.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It would probably only take an hour or two for me to get home.”

“Home from where?”

Another bitter laugh. “Here.”

That’s when the first chill of real horror began to creep down my spine. “You mean…?” I fumbled for the right words, the politically correct phrasing for what I was trying to ask. “You mean you’re not ‘my’ Professor George.”

He looked me in the eye then and smiled for the first time– I think he meant it to be comforting. “No. No, I’m not. But it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

“It doesn’t matter at all,” he said.

“Where is he?”

“You saw the display,” the man on the couch responded. “He’s 37, 132 worlds away.”

A chill down my spine, an icy fist around my heart, flesh crawling, a wave of vertigo, a lump in my throat– you name the cliche, I had it. “Seriously, enough of this,” I said desperately. “Explain to me what’s going on. What’s happening? What did you see out there? Is my friend alive or dead?”

“Alive! Oh, he’s fine. If I’m okay, he’s okay. He might even come back. Not that it makes any difference.”

“Enough with the riddles! Please, explain!”

“All right,” he said. “Sorry. I’m drunk. I didn’t mean to be.” He sat up and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at me sadly. “Infinity means infinity. It really does. And the Branes, the dimensions, they’re adjacent, they fan out. You can’t cut in line. All possible universes exist. And even a fraction, the tiniest fraction, of infinity is still infinity. Do you understand yet? An infinity of all possible universes means an infinity of universes just like this one!”

#short story #short fiction #science fiction #time travel #sci fi #rick hutchins #rjdiogenes

1 note · View note

eristic-kaleidoscope · 2 years ago

Text

The Maltese Falcon | Akito | Trial 5.4 | Re: Calluna, END, Jae-min, Adrik

The fact that Calluna and An have long since known he was using their, ahem, private time with each other as a way to pass on messages bothers Akito a lot less than he thought it would. “I figured you were bent on watching me anyways.” He rolls his eyes. “It matters not, because how it was done honestly matters less to me than the fact I had to jump through so many hoops to even communicate what I knew, out of sight and mind. The monitors within the surveillance room proved what I’d suspected, though it is interesting to note they had cameras set up everywhere but the new floors that were opened. At least, publicly revealed to us, because I don’t believe they of all people would leave a room with several brains and two persons of interest unmonitored.”

He turns to END next. “You’re not wrong that they could’ve spread things over the other floors, but I don’t think they had planned on opening up the fourth floor to us all before today. After all, why not simply decommission us and send most of us on our merry memory-loss way, while retaining a few for uploading? Whatever the interruption was this morning, I think it spooked our hosts into a change of plans that necessitated making this false-flag operation.” Akito gestures across the room. “Also, while you’re right that I’m close in proximity to them and she’s not, Erisu is directly opposite where all three of us are situated, and thus the least likely to be suspected of working with the sisters. That also means that they still have a direct line of sight to her if anyone else tried any funny business, and can then keep a close eye on me in the interim. Some of you were wondering why I haven’t bought a favour to move away from this spot despite the fact that I despise where I am, weren’t you? That’s because I can’t, and no points for guessing who’s enforced that rule.”

Taking a quick breath, Akito continues. “I did solve the Vocaloid module assignment puzzle, and I’m fairly open about knowing my fair share of songs and costumes, but then why would I make myself more suspicious by leaving the completed puzzle out? You’ve also heard me be very open about my interests and hobbies - and this is a personal one, but I would’ve used Rin and Len modules, even if Undead Enemy doesn’t have an official released one yet. Cowards. Anyways, I’m not a veteran private detective, especially when I knew just as little about this experiment as you did. I was brought into the fold because I have a very personal reason to look into things.” Of course, referring to Kristina. “Finally, I’m not even an Ultimate or was ever in consideration for it like Ae-ra, Eureka, and Miss Chen, though I concede that could be faked by executive meddling just as many other things have been here.”

“Speaking of Kristi, you.” His gaze turns to Jae-min. “Insult her one more time, and I will shove your ego so far up your ass that you’ll choke to death on it. This is the also first time I’ve heard of a letter in the VR being ascribed to me, so unless you can explain that, I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about. The best I can offer is that I did write a letter out, three weeks ago. Very publicly, in fact, as I put out a notice in the chat that Byrne, Kenshin, and Adrik all responded to. I wrote a joint letter to my mother and Kristi, and the actual letter - in my handwriting, no less - has been delivered to my mother based on the emails I shared with her while we still had the laptop, so I wouldn’t put it past the sisters to scan the letter into the simulation as a way of delivering it to Kristi in lieu of actually sending it to her address. As for why she knows what we’ve been up to in the simulations… You all have seen the coded messages and research notes about the fate of the ‘Vessel’. I can’t answer what I don’t know, but I suspect Kristi was brought up to date with what ER1K4 was up to because the simulations are meant to give her as the Vessel a formative judgement of what experiences and values would eventually be formed together into her new consciousness. I don’t know why they picked Kristina either… But considering there’s quite some overlap between her and Erisu as people…”

He’s not sure how to continue that train of thought, so he shakes his head. “Anyways! Back to the murder weapon, and honestly that’s easy to address. I’m associated with the stage, and a curtain is flexible enough that someone like me who has been previously injured and is physically on the weaker side, could have the strength to strangle someone like Erisu. It’s convenient. It’s also very convenient that, with at least ten minutes between when she died and was found, three hosts in charge of the whole facility couldn’t lock down two floors or shut the elevator system down entirely. Almost like, once again, they wanted the rest of the red floor to be found.” Akito holds up his phone. “And I do have two pictures here that were taken at the study area in the Library, at twelve o'clock and half-past twelve. It would have been extremely difficult for me to leave for the fourth floor, spot An having an altercation with Erisu in the room, grab a curtain from the other side of the floor, head down, strangle Erisu by holding her down, then rush back to the library in the span of barely half an hour."

He sighs. "Adrik has seen these, and I will offer anyone else to check them for veracity. I will also submit myself to body checks if needed, and suggest the same for a certain someone else, as we now know per Erik A’s testimony that the taser could only have one charge.”

#Azr #chapter5 #trial5 #submission

0 notes

photographicapparitions · 1 year ago

Text

below is their statement;

"I've been thinking about what happened a lot, and how most of it could have been solved if you had come off anon and asked us to explain.

Some of us are proship, I wouldn't deny it if someone asked. It's not a great coping skill but given that we're still living with our abusers it's the healthiest coping method they have besides trying to kill the body or harm people around us.

I (the host) don't agree with it, and because of that we as a system decided to keep out blogs separate, one email used for a blog with anti morality and another used for proship stuff. It's the only solution we could come up with that wouldn't involve trying to seriously harm ourself in a way that we can't recover from.

"Why don't you just go to therapy" is something i know will come up so I'll answer that now: supringly therpay here is hard to get into and the waiting lists can go on for years. In the past therpaists have even encouraged us to make 'proship content' which is why we fell into making it in the first place. We've been abused by medical staff and had our issues denied time and time again, yet despite this we are trying to get into it and change.

Now you, whomever you are, stalked us across multiple accounts. That blog you're referring to was on a sperate email address to us, and we hadn't used it in at least 3 weeks and had 4 original posts. We didn't try to hide it, but you like a coward asked on anon about us using a name we don't even use any more online. It was terrifying to log onto, especially as someone who you probably know deals with extreme paranoia.

There is no logical way for you to have determined it was us, so at first I lied. What you need to understand if that you're an faceless person who has probably been stalking us from across 3 accounts and countless blogs we kept separate from that.

Then the paranoia got bad, really bad, so we deleted everything and you stole so many urls, Including one from a blog we hadn't even associated with us.

I'm not saying that what we did was right, or that what we posted was good, but like it or not proshipping (while unhealthy) is a coping method that some of us use to deal with the irl abuse we go through. If you had messaged us and asked to explain we would have. The lack of understanding of a complex situation has now evolved into you dragging out something we could have solved in dms.

Your stalking has resulted in us genuienly feeling so unsafe and paranoid it makes me wonder if you genuienly care about people who's lives are surrounded with incestous abuse every waking moment of every day, or if you're just a coward who doesn't care about the effects of abuse weve suffered since the day we were born."

the user who did this is currently unknown, but they have stolen the urls tropicalsummer, rainbowfurry, sapphirestims, and more from this system after they deactivated. i am more than willing to raise them up to help out, because systemhood is so much more nuanced than this person wants to believe. it's disgusting, and i'm going to do what i can to fight for our friends.

@tropicalsummer i hope you're proud of yourself. i hope you got some cruel egotistical power trip out of all this. - idia

aight. we're helping a friend make a statement. block the tag "paradesys" now if you don't wanna see it. - idia

#- idia xx #arcadian chats #paradesys

11 notes · View notes

auticstic-dyspunktion · 3 years ago

Text

Fox News ran a bullshit story on my school system, who are seeking to ban pride flags, so let me make a few things clear:

1. There is and has always been an American flag in every classroom. There are American flags in the hallways and flying outside the school. There is no shortage of American flags in my school system.

2. Teachers are not pressured to put pride flags in their room. They are *required* to put the American flag in their room. Both of my parents are teachers and they have never been pressured or heard of anyone being pressured to have a pride flag. The majority of teachers are not displaying a pride flag.

3. PFLAG delivered the pride flags to schools because the school board had JUST decided that pride flags are not political and that they are allowed. The ONLY reason they are going back on this is because of pressure from parents who are pissed that teachers actually went and put pride flags in their classrooms.

4. PFLAG also did not even communicate with individual teachers, let alone "force" them to display pride flags. They delivered a bunch of pride flags to each school and left them in the main office. At my mom's school, the principal just emailed everyone and said "hey if you want a pride flag we have some now".

5. I have never in my life heard of someone getting an angry parent phone call for not displaying a pride flag, however my mother has gotten many angry phone calls for telling homophobes to stop being homophobic. I have never felt safe at school. Most teachers and staff do not help me, I suspect for many of them it is because they know that there is nothing they can do without angering parents of homophobes.

6. One parent they quoted expressed anger about "transgender ideology" being forced upon young kids. Nothing is being taught alongside the flags. They are there for students who know what it means. If a child asks, I imagine they would recieve a brief answer and then move on. The flags don't represent ideology, they represent people. That being said, it's cruel to keep your child from knowing the full range of identities they could have, but if that's what parents decide to do, a child seeing a rainbow flag isn't going to stop them.

7. The parent group mentioned is essentially pressuring (or "bullying" to use their words) the board of ed into taking back their previous flag policy. I know that every openly supportive teacher receives backlash and angry parent phone calls. But they aren't bullied into abandoning us. The teachers who brave backlash in order to support their queer students are the reason I was able to get a good education. Frankly, they might be the reason I'm still alive. They didn't stop all the harassment and violence my friends and I have faced, but they gave me the support to get through each day and keep going back to school. If the board are going to be a bunch of spineless cowards, they don't deserve to be making decisions for those teachers.

Anyway, here is the petition to stop them from taking our pride flags. Share it if you want, especially now that this story is being reported on nationally I'd really like it to have a happy ending.

#I'm so sick of living here. getting out this summer thank god #but yeah. fox news are shitty reporters but what else is new #I feel bad for all the queer kids in younger grades who know they have to go for more years in this #i'm a senior so I'm just relieved this is happening when I can leave soon #will probably go to speak at board meetings. someone needs to listen to the queer kids #queer #trans #enby #pride #homophobia tw #transphobia tw #bi #pan #lesbian #lgbtq+

116 notes · View notes

sweetestlamb · 4 years ago

Text

Put On A Show

Summary: Cha-young goes to her high school reunion and brings a certain mafia guest.

Author's note: I heard someone wanted a on top and in control CY so here it is! I already had this idea about a HS reunion so I simply combined the two ideas and got this smutty brainchild. This is rated E for extremely dirty so read at your own discretion, I planned on writing more fics of them pining but I really do love a women in control so I took a break from my cockblocking to fill this prompt. Hope you enjoy ;)

Dear class of 2005,

That time has come once again, our class reunion! This year's reunion will be held in the Phoenix Hall in honor of us all rising from the ashes of this pandemic and being reborn stronger than ever before! Tickets available for purchase below. There are separate tickets for food and drinks and this year's theme will be luxury: a life of decadence. We look forward to seeing you all.

Cha-young skims the email that had initially landed in her spam folder, only the name of her old high school attached in the subject line catches her attention enough to make her open the otherwise nondescript email.

Another high school reunion.

She had been evading these gatherings like the plague itself, ever since the last time she'd made the mistake of going to one. She had just landed her job at Wusang Firm and finally felt confident in herself, in high school she'd always been the loud one and the weird one but now she was a lawyer and a damn good one if she said could say so herself. Nobody could dismiss her now or jokingly remind her of the bowl cut she had sported before, she was always the butt of their jokes and she was tired of feeling small beneath their condescending thumb. She finally had something worth bragging about.

She'd stepped in with a smirk on her face, tight black dress and heels clicking as she walked waving at people she knew but didn't deign important enough to stop her entrance for a chat. The buffet table was her sole destination but she'd been intercepted by familiar annoying high pitched voices, Chang Ae-ram and Bom Min-he, the popular girls in her school and the banes of her existence both rushed over to her with drinks in their hands.

They never had anything kind to say to her and seemed to seek her out simply to put her down or remind her of how much of a “pathethic loser” she was in high school, as if she hadn’t been the one living her life.

The verbal sparring began almost immediately, with them all battling for lead in the "my life is going great" contest, coyly listing their accolades and accomplishment and assertively she told them both about her new job at one of Korea's most successful and well known law firm.

"Oh." Ae-ram answered with a tight smile that pulled her surgically enhanced face into a wrinkleless grin.

Score.

She sipped her drink feeling victorious as they both avoided her brazen eye contact. She had just opened her mouth to make her leave when a vindictive smile stretched over Min-he's face, "A job is so important but what about a family? Surely you don't plan on dying alone, how come you never bring anyone with you? We're all so sad that you don't have anyone still." She gripped the stem of her wine glass at the fake concern, suddenly the group was larger and everyone was congratulating Min-he on her engagement, the other woman waving the huge diamond on her finger in her face.

It was so vapid and stupid and she knew that it didn't make her any less of a woman that she didn't have a man but those words still burned. She had noticed that everyone was paired up and she was one of the only people who came alone, she'd been seeing someone before the reunion but at her mention of the gathering he had told her that "things were getting too serious for him" rolling out of her bed while tugging on his underwear and that had been the last she heard from him.

She'd spent the rest of the night on the outskirts avoiding her college mates and later stumbled out on her heels unsteady from the amount of liquor she'd consumed.

That had been her last reunion. She'd pointedly ignored all the invitations since then, the shame of that night still stinging all those years later. They only served as a reminder that she still had no one and regardless of how successful she was at her career she would be deemed undesirable by others.

It was such a fucking joke but she couldn't shake the insecurity despite knowing how false it was.

The sound of keys jingling near the front door knock her free from her reminiscing and she spins around to the sight of Vincenzo struggling to squeeze through the entrance with several bags in his arms, he never wants to make more than one trip- the overachiever. She nods her head in hello before trudging over to him without closing her laptop, greeting him easily with a peck on the lips freeing a few bags from his hands.

"Did you get my cookies?" She asks again despite the various text messages she had sent reminding him about her sweet treats, he rolls his eyes at her again swinging another bag into her waiting hands.

"Here. When I told you to text me necessities, cookies are not what I had in mind." He flicks her forehead lightly silencing her cry of pain with a follow-up kiss to the spot, she grumbles but stuffs the soft baked chocolate chip cookies into her mouth, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk hoarding food for the winter.

Smooth as a well-oiled machine they put the groceries away, the sound of cabinets opening and closing the soundtrack for their movements. When everything is correctly put away, she makes her way back over to her laptop only then remembering what she'd been doing.

She stares at the screen contemplating her next move before she feels a familiar heavy weight on her shoulder, his breath is hot on her neck when he speaks, "What are you looking at?" He barely waits for her reply covering her hand on the sleek mouse, scrolling down to read the entire email. She waits anxiously in her seat as he reads the words out loud, obviously she had thought about him when she first received the email but her last experience had made her nervous about asking him to attend.

They hadn't been officially dating for long. They'd been too focused on taking down Babel and the aftermath had left them both with unanswered questions about the nature of their relationship.

Only this time when she asked him the same question she'd been asking since he crash landed into her life unexpectedly, after everything was over, he'd looked over at her and said in a small voice "Not if you want me to stay."

She'd been a coward and he had taken her silence as rejection and it had taken a dramatic and honestly cliché airport interruption, complete with her pushing past airport staff and screaming his name crying as they told her that the plane to Malta had already taken off.

She'd returned to her house with red rimmed eyes that widened into huge saucers at the sight of him in front of her house, large suitcase beside him.

Gasping she ran into his arms, as terrified as she'd felt that fateful night so long ago in the underpass.

"I couldn't go."

He tugged her closer, burrowing his face in her thick hair and breathing harshly his voice was raw and rough like he'd been crying too.

"Because of me?" She asked shock laden in her words and that's when he drew away to stare into her eyes and with a defeated nod he said, "Because of you."

The rest had been history. He came inside with her and he hadn't left since.

"Are you going?"

She stills at the inquiry, head dizzy from the memories racing through her mind.

"What?"

He places a finger on the computer screen, "This reunion. Are you going?"

She feels a small sting in her chest at his words, with a sad smile she starts to shake her head in decline but then he chuckles, "We should go. I'll be your arm candy." He teases wagging his eyebrows in her peripheral.

Oh.

"You want to come with me?" She repeats stunned by his casual offer, this seemed huge for some reason and she could feel her heart pounding erratically in her brittle chest.

He finally straightens up walking off to the kitchen grabbing a cup, pulling the fridge open.

"Yeah I mean unless you have another boyfriend you want to bring with you."

She laughs at his joke but internally her blood sings, she didn't want to get her hopes up but now she can barely contain her happiness.

She can always count him to have her back.

Slamming the laptop shut she circumvents the chair running over to him, he looks at her with a raised eyebrow prying the cup of water from his hands she pulls him down into a grateful kiss. He hums low when she slips her tongue into his lax mouth, this kiss vastly different from the peck she'd greeted him with at the door.

She can taste the caffeine on his tongue, the strong flavor of his favorite espresso swirling around her taste buds, pushing him firmer into the counter she laps at his mouth eager for a deeper exploration. He melts under her touch letting her manhandle him and move his head as she sees fit, his complete surrender makes her hot under the collar.

It's with reluctance that she pulls away from his addicting lips.

She smirks as he sways into her body as if intoxicated.

"Sorry. We have to go soon, it's game night."

It's a weekly tradition at the plaza, tonight they're playing Taboo, it had been announced in the group chat that Mr. Nam had forced them to join. It was chaotic with so many different voices there but it made her feel warm, like they were their own little family.

He groans disappointed but nods slowly, adjusting himself discretely but not enough for her vigilant eyes. She stares at the hardon visible through the thin material of his sweatpants.

"Let's go before you get me any more excited." He grumbles, picking up the snacks he'd purchased for tonight. She smiles triumphantly at his back still in disbelief that she has that kind of power over the great Corn Salad, Vincenzo Cassano.

Game night is a success, filled with laughter and playful arguing. They all work together in pairs and their team loses horribly with her accidentally shouting out all the taboo words every time it's her turn. Mi-Ri and Larry Kang- from the dance studio make a great team using dance moves and inside jokes to solve their words in seconds much to everyone’s shock, they both adamantly deny any change in their relationship at the groups subsequent teasing.

Nobody believes them.

Just like they hadn’t believed her and Vincenzo.

They get home at midnight and both collapse before they can finish what they started earlier in the kitchen, but cuddling is great too. He’s always the little spoon.

The reunion isn't a point of conversation again and she almost forgets about it completely until it's Saturday, the day of the event and she wakes up alone. It's not totally abnormal with him being a morning person but she still groans in annoyance at his disappearance. The bed is so cold without his body letting off heat like a human furnace.

The sun is high in the sky when she finally pulls herself out of bed much later, 12:45pm according to her phone and she sits up with a full body stretch, body popping and cracking.

"Vincenzo? Are you here?" She calls out to the empty house, receiving no reply.

With a sigh she goes to shower and brush her teeth, he should be back soon from wherever he went.

When she finally comes out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam following her she pauses at the package on the bed. A huge white box catches her eye, the gold silken bow striking across the large rectangle. Taking a closer step she runs a finger across the smooth material in wonder.

There's a note and immediately she recognizes the distinctive penmanship.

Open me.

Not needing to be told twice she tugs the bow watching it unraveling before lifting the top of the box, peering inside with glowing eyes.

She lets out a soft gasp at the sight of the piercing white material that is almost perfectly camouflaged in the matching box. She lifts it with awe, watching material unfurl until she can see it clearly. It's a dress made from expensive fabric based on the its luxurious feel in her hands and her eyes widen at the cape that hangs lower than the dress itself.

"He was listening to me."

She remembers her group chat with the ladies from the plaza, sending them different options for her reunion and letting them help to pick it her outfit. She wanted something that would garner attention but that still felt like her, and that's when she'd seen it. The new Alexander Wang collection, all white blazer dress with a cape and button details, it looked like luxury and she knew it had to be hers.

The ladies had all been in agreement sending her thumbs up emojis and demanding that she purchase the stunning dress. She'd quickly added it to her cart but much to her dismay as she'd been entering her card information, that dreaded message popped up at the top of her screen.

This item is no longer available. Sorry, try again.

Her heart had sunk and despite Miri's computer savvy and Yeon-Jin 's online shopping prowess they had not been able to locate the dress on any other site. It was sold out, everywhere.

Or so she thought.

Wordlessly she slips into the dress and surprisingly it fits like a glove, as if it was tailored just for her but that can't be.

"I'll zip that up for you."

She jumps at the dark voice behind her and then a chill runs up her spine at his fingertips on her bare back. He slides the thick curtain of her hair to the side to zip it up the rest of the way, their eyes meet in the full length mirror across the room.

"You look beautiful." He compliments easily, eyes caressing her body from her head down to her bare toes.

She feels like a goddess under his eyes.

"Where did you get this? It was sold out everywhere." She stares at him in wonder and he smiles at her gaping mouth, "I called in a favor. I knew a designer who owed me a favor." He shrugs as if it's nothing that he knows designers who are connected to the Alexander Wang, she's still not used to his influence.

Wait.

"Do you know Alexander Wang?" She shouts in surprise spinning to stare at him and his easy smile and open hand gesture is enough of an answer.

"I got your measurements from Mr.Tak. I wanted tonight to be perfect for you."

Her nerves have been shot all week, it's true that they haven't discussed the reunion at all but that doesn't mean it hasn't been on a mind even haunting her dreams.

She didn't want to be embarrassed again. She knew that she shouldn't let them get to her, she didn't have to prove herself to anyone but for once she just wanted to make them all eat those condescending words. She wanted to show them that she was the same weird girl from high school but she was even more now, also a successful woman and there was nothing wrong with being both sides of those coins.

Without her even saying one word he'd been able to detect how important this night was for her.

"Thank you." She breathes tears glistening on her eyes, he wraps both arms around her waist beaming at her in the mirror.

"Don't thank me yet you didn't even see the shoes yet."

Without waiting for her answer he steps away to lift a pair of sparkling shoes from the box, the red soles immediately notifying her of the exorbitant brand.

She gapes at the shoes and then a smirking Vincenzo and then back at the shoes, "Are you crazy? Are those Louboutin's?" She asks the obvious question turning the shoes over to stare at the vibrant scarlet soles. A certain Bronxite’s voice blaring in her head about blood shoes.

"They did say the theme was luxury. I thought these were just right for you." Squealing like a kid in candy store she sits down on the bed with both shoes in hand, but before she can slip them on he's lowering himself to his knees. The sight is enough to stop her in her tracks, her traitorous imagination running wild at the implications and possibilities. When he takes the shoes from her loose grip she merely watches as he slides the shoes onto her feet, just like the dress they too fit perfectly.

"I feel like Cinderella." She chuckles trying to break the tension and the swell in her chest but his bright smile only makes her chest constrict tighter, she doesn't know if she'll survive tonight.

"Hong Cha-young!" She freezes at the sound of Ae-ram's squealing voice only pausing for a moment before turning with a tense smile.

Here we go.

The woman is flagged by her usual posse and parrots, who are always ready to echo her biting remarks and she gulps down her dirty martini needing some liquid courage.

As if sensing her unease instantly Vincenzo takes the hand that was artistically placed in the pocket of his fitting white dress pants and curls it around her waist, grounding her with the simple touch. She turns to him and he greets her with a calming smile that she can't help but return.

I've got your back. He says with only a slight lift of his lips.

She takes a deep breath.

Ae-ram's smile dims as she gets closer to them, her eyes honed on the hand on her hip and she leans fully into the warm body pressed against her side.

Min-he speaks first, an equally constipated smile on her face, "Who's this? You've never brought anyone before. Is this a work friend?" She almost rolls her eyes at the ridiculous question, as if work friends would be this comfortable with each other. They're already finding excuses, grasping at straws and creating complicated solutions for something that is easy to understand simply because they don’t think she’s worthy of attention. That large hand tightens lightly before a light chuckle reaches her ear, “Vincenzo Cassano, lawyer and the lucky man who gets to call her my mine.” She fidgets in his hold blushing at his bold introduction and watching all eyes widen at them, nobody speaks at first clearly in shock at the revelation.

“Vinshenzo? What kind of name is that?” Someone harps from the back of the crowd and she feels her hackles rise, yes she might have struggled with the pronunciation of his name at first but it felt petty and intentional right now not an honest mistake like her mispronunciation had been.

But before she can unleash her anger, another old classmates breaks the tense stalemate.

“Oh you’re the Italian lawyer I heard about on the new, who took down Babel! Great job!”

She had also helped with that, them being a team but nobody seems to care about that all focusing on Vincenzo, all herding around her Italian like he’s a celebrity and she watches shock as he easily wins them over.

“Sì, ero io. Il piacere è tutto tuo.” Yes that was me, the pleasure is all yours.

The group minus Ae-ram and Min-he all oh and ah at his effortless Italian despite having no clue what exactly he just said, she too is clueless at the quickly stated sentence but the mischievous smirk on his handsome face informs her of all that she needs to know, he is mocking them right to their faces. She hides a smile behind her hands, pretending to cough into her fingers.

Wordlessly, the group separates based on sex-she watches helplessly as Vincenzo is tugged away in a boisterous discussion about the state of Korean football- and she is left alone with those harpies but unlike the other reunions suddenly she is the most interesting woman there, regardless of Ae-ram trying to steal the show with pictures of her new full breed dog. She watches amused as the other woman is pushed aside and she is accosted on both sides, questions firing off like rockets.

“Where did you meet him?”

“Does he have a brother?”

“When are you getting married? You have to marry him!”

“Does he always smell that good?”

She turns flabbergasted to hear that question coming from Ae-ram’s right hand woman, Min-he and Ae-ram glares at her looking betrayed before she storms off with her professional head shots of her dog. She expects Min-he to trail after the spiteful primadonna but to her shock the other woman moves in closer, joining the firing brigade with their million questions about the handsome Italian.

They all settle down when the man they are so curious about returns, hand back on her waist like that its resting place.

Her ears ring from their coos and shrill “awws” but she leans into him nonetheless happy to have him back, already exhausted dealing with these people.

Then she notes that the tone of the questions suddenly shift as they begin to bombard the Italian Korean all at once. There are....more flirtatious when speaking to him and she feels her blood curl at the unprecedented change.

“Are all Italians this handsome?” Her eye twitches at the bold inquiry, subconsciously she feels her eyes narrow into slits as she glares at the woman who was brave stupid enough to ask that. The bitch blanches at her sneer but still flutters her eyelashes at Vincenzo waiting for his response, she clears her throat loudly answering for him, “He’s one of a kind and fortunately all mine. “ She can feel the smug bastard preening next to her practically buzzing from her compliment, and she quickly makes their escape, “Please excuse us.” Vincenzo smoothly tips his drinks at the women, “Addio,” he bids farewell in Italian arm still hooked around her waist as she sashays away, Louboutin's clicking on the marble tile floor.

The scrap of Italian leaves them all in a frenzy, whispering wildly behind them.

She drags them to the bar, ordering two shots of soju and another dirty martini ignoring his examining stare.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” She already knows the answer to her question, it’s written all over him and she tries to stifle the jealousy that wants to rear its ugly head.

He looks over at her with a lazy grin, trying to appear innocent. She isn’t fooled for one second.

“Me? I’m not doing anything. I’m only here for you.”

She scoffs at him, staring at his annoyingly handsome face and his gleaming white suit he discarded the jacket earlier and his arms have been distracting her all night.

“You love the attention.”

He rubs his neck before turning to her fully, leaning on the bar counter.

“What? Are you jealous of the attention I’m getting? isn’t that why you brought me to make you look good?”

She wants to deny it and laugh at him, but even now she can hear the voices in the distance all intrigued by the Italian and the bartender’s eyes linger just a minute too long as the smooth Lawyer throws his free shot back in one fluid motion. She should be used to it by now, everyone in a ten mile radius getting a hard on for the Korean Italian. She understands why he gets all this attention, he is gorgeous that was one of the many reasons that she had fallen for him too but sometimes it can be intimidating to be with someone that so many others desire and so obviously too.

She wonders if she even deserves him.

Was she enough for him?

“What’s going on in that pretty little head?” He taps her on her forehead dragging her from her self-deprecation. “Do you know why they’re all so mean to you?” He suddenly asks and she stares at him before shaking her head no.

Probably because she’s a hot fucking mess.

“They’re jealous of you.”

A burst of laughter slips free at this speculation and she watches as his face tightens, “You really don’t know do you?” His voice is liquid fire, smoky and dark like the tendrils from a cigarette.

“What are you talking about?” She manages to get out despite being lost in his voice.

“How sexy you are.” He leans over to whisper directly in her heated ears, she moans lightly at his breath on her skin.

That is hardly ever a word that she has heard used to describe her, Hong Cha-young.

Clumsy. Forgetful. Selfish. Loud. Demanding. Too Much.

Those words she had heard all her life but never sexy. She was too strange to be sexy.

“You’re smart and beautiful and you have a successful career. You aren’t afraid to be yourself and now you have me on your arm. You have everything and they wish they were you, they’re jealous.” He repeats firmer this time, rubbing a large thumb across her bottom lip and grinning down at her with barely contained glee.

She starts to deny his claim but then she looks behind her and sees nothing but a sea of envy, women and men both looking at them and she notes not all eyes are on Vincenzo a few men seemed lost in the low cut dip of her dress and the miles of naked skin on display.

She gasps at the hard line that pokes at her bottom when he leans into her back, standing flush her back to his front. She shivers when he leans down to breathily say, “Everyone is watching, why don’t we give them a show?”

This is not like her, at all.

She has never been a fan of public displays of affection, even screaming at horny strangers in the past to get a room but she feels all that restraint leave her body at his challenge. Driving her body back into his jutting erection she slowly grinds in perfect rhythm to the song playing over the stereo.

youtube

She feels seductive as the music curls around her and she lifts her arms to wrap around his neck, bringing him ever closer and pushing back harder delighted at the groan that escapes his lips. He is coiled tightly behind her but he doesn’t move a muscle letting her have complete control over their interaction and she has never felt more powerful. Continuing to sway she leans back when he tightens his grip around her waist, mewling as his nose rubs at her earlobe and letting out a soft gasp when he blows on the tender flesh.

When she peels her heavy lids open, there are so many hungry and watchful eyes on them.

Ae-ram looks scandalized and she can see the woman pointing at them but she can’t hear a word that she’s saying the blood in her ears is too loud, drowning out all other sounds.

It must be the liquor in her veins because seeing all the voyeurs only makes her bolder, before she can second guess herself she spins around much to Vincenzo’s chagrin but she silences him with a finger on his lip.

“Follow me.”

He arches a thin eyebrow but eagerly obeys her command when she tugs him in the direction of the bathroom.

She hears several gasps behind her as she tugs open the door stepping inside, dragging him right behind her the silence is deafening when he closes the door behind them, turning the lock with a metallic snap.

Her breath comes out in hurried puffs.

What the fuck am I doing? She asks herself, wondering if this is what people call an out of body experience.

“We don’t have to do anything. Their imaginations will do the rest.”

He’s giving her an out.

Gripping his hands tighter, she pulls him over to the toilet which is thankfully clean using her feet to slam the seat down before pushing down him to sit. He looks up at her with inquisitive eyes, waiting for her next move but lets himself be manhandled the second time this night.

“Thank you for everything tonight,” she covers his mouth with her hands as she climbs into his lap, whatever words he had on his tongue evaporate when their groins meet.

“I know I don’t say this enough, but I love you.”

She has only ever said it once before and he’d been sleeping, they both knew he wasn’t truly asleep but he let her pretend and she appreciated it but there was no way she couldn’t say it now, tonight. He had been her prince charming when she had expected nothing.

“Are you serious? You say it to me in her-” She pops open his pants button cutting off his stunned response and he stares at her, making her feel hot.

“Talk later?” She begs and her request is backed by her hand disappearing through the slit in his pants and wrapping around his dick, the hot muscle twitching fiercely in her hold.

He chokes out word that sounds like a jumbled “yes” and that’s all the consent she needs to stroke him harder, using his precum to glide her hand down from the tip to the base and then back up again, he lets out a punched out groan at her purposeful handling of his imported goods.

Shifting back marginally, she gives herself more room tugging his pants down further to get a better look at the pretty pink cock, it’s standing at attention and weeping for her and rubs harder twisting in a corkscrew motion on the mushroom head much to his pleasure, he thrusts up into her hand and immediately she lets go.

“Please,” he whines so prettily and she tsks at him, “Don’t move, you can only take what I give you. You said you were mine right?”

She doesn’t know what has come over her but seeing all those women and men lusting over her boyfriend makes her want to remind them and him, just who he belongs to.

She expects him to put up some sort of fight, instead he nods eagerly at her command stilling his hip and she can see the strain in his white knuckled grip on the toilet edge.

“Good boy.” She praises and notes with stunned satisfaction the way his dick jumps at the praise too, interesting.

She starts with a light pace, stroking with the barest amount of pressure before she starts to grip him tighter when he groans at the dryness of her hands she leans over to spit on his head, this makes him hiss and fight to stay still in her grip she rewards him with a kiss to his flushed red head. The wet sounds of her hands stroking his hot meat fills the small space of the bathroom and lifting one hand she grabs his tie using it to yank him into a hard kiss, he opens up for her immediately letting her tongue explore his mouth.

She has never seen this mafia man so docile, it’s like seeing a lion behave like a house cat.

With a hard suck at his bottom lip, she breaks their kiss leaving them to pant into each other’s mouth harshly.

She didn’t know how far she actually planned on going but now nothing seems like enough, she needs more.

Staring deep into his eyes, she stands up releasing her grip on him and he sighs watching her confused before she slides both hands under her dress and slowly pulls down her panties, they are tiny, white and lace, matching her bra and he looks mesmerized as they are pried down her legs.

“Are you sure?” He’s still checking on her and she smiles at him, stepping out of the panties and cheekily putting them in his pocket, “Give them safe for me,” she doesn’t give him a chance to reply before sinking back down onto him, his dick is hard and thick but she’s so wet that he glides into her like they are two matching pieces of a puzzle. An erotic puzzle.

“Fuck!” He shouts when he bottoms out and his cock is completely encased in her tight walls, his voice echoes off the bathroom walls.

She grabs his tie, making his eyes pop open and she watches amused as he sputters as she stuffs the expensive material into his mouth.

“You’re being too loud.” She teases remembering all the times he had been the one admonishing her as she screamed beneath him.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” He echoes her words from spitting out the tie and she can’t deny it, so instead she rocks forward taking even more of him simultaneously shoving the wet tie back into his mouth listening to his barely muffled grunts. She rises up on the tips of her toes, her red bottoms giving her that extra bit of height, his hard tip popping free with a wet squelch before she slams back down onto him titling her head back and moaning to the ceiling.

He’s being so good, not moving at all simply letting her fuck down on him and she can tell his control is slipping every time he grips her waist too tightly, painfully.

She continues to ride him, chasing her own pleasure and whimpering when his blunt head slides across her engorged bead, rocking vigorously up and down as she feels the end drawing near. She tightens her hold on his shoulder, using him as leverage to ride him faster, his thighs tense under the weight of her body and her rapid pace.

The wet smacks fill the air filthily and she feels dirty, absolutely nasty but instead of shame an intense wave of pride barrels over her.

“You’re mine.” She whispers out loud to herself but he misinterprets the words and eagerly nods at the statement thinking she wants him to declare that he’s hers, “Yes I am yours, all yours,” and she loses her mind, pistoning herself rapidly on his lap before pleasure surges through her body, starting in her toes and curling up her thighs and she rocks her nipples into his chest through their layers of clothes, she muffles her cry in his throat roughly pulling at the skin there to silence her deafening screams.

It’s only then that he breaks the rules, reaching up to grab her shoulders and yanking her down to meet his vicious upward thrust and waves and waves of thick streams fill her up until she feels it leaking at the sides.

There is no sound besides their louds pants.

Then two loud knocks make them both jump from their wrecked state, his softening length falling from her grip.

“This is the only bathroom.” A voice calls out disgusted and with a gasp she stands up straightening her dress and running a hand through her hair before realizing that it’s still sticky, great.

Vincenzo is a puddle on the toilet, legs spread apart and softened dick not yet tugged away, he looks like sin reincarnated and it takes everything not to initiate another round.

“Come on lover boy,” she tugs him up pulling him up and zipping up his pants, then she moves him over to the sink washing her hands and making him do the same. Their eyes meet in the mirror and that’s when she sees much how debauched they truly look, when he turns to look at the hickey she sucked into his pale skin while trying to be quiet she finally feels the ability to be embarrassed returning.

it’s huge and red, almost purple, covering the thick column of his throat and he winces when he rubs at it.

“I’m sorry, I got carried away.” She apologizes but its for naught because he grins at her proudly, “You were just claiming what’s yours.”

His words light another fire under her skin and it’s only the pounding on the door that stops her from jumping him again.

When they finally pull the door open, none other than a blanched face Ae-ram is on the other side. The woman looks shocked to see them both standing in front of her and the gears begin to slowly turn and a bright blush rushes up her unnaturally high cheekbones while color evacuates the rest of her face.

“Are you serious?!”

She doesn’t stay to hear the rest of the woman’s snide remark, all eyes are on them as she walks over to the bar to grab her discarded purse and Vincenzo’s jacket, the bartender winks knowingly at them looking equal parts aroused and jealous and she chortles, winking back.

He hands them two shots, “It’s on the house,” he looks them up and down languidly licking his lips and she slams back the bitter liquid before turning to Vincenzo, his lips are shiny and now wet under the bright lights.

“Let’s get out of here.” She slams the shot glass on the counter, pulling him out the door.

He hastily swallows his drink, letting her tug him out the door into the cool night air.

“You didn’t let me answer you before, but me too.”

She looks at him from the corner of her eye, the wind causing her to sober up and it takes a minute to understand what he’s talking about. She shifts awkwardly when she ultimately realizes nodding while looking away, their cab is three minutes away.

“I love you too, Hong Cha- young.”

As if she didn’t already know. It was too obvious after tonight.

#vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #hong cha young #rated E #smut with feelings #chayenzo #CCFC2021 #top CY

194 notes · View notes

ur-favorite-queer-queen · 4 years ago

Text

Internet Friends

For Maribat March day 4 theme internet friends

Master List

It was peaceful for once in the manor. Dick, Tim, Damian, Steph, Cass, and Babs were all in the living room doing their own thing. However peace cannot last forever and the silent atmosphere was interrupted by one Timothy Drake-Wayne.

“Guys come check this out!” He exclaimed, his phone facing the others in the room. They all gathered around the phone, some more annoyed than others. On screen was a video and Tim hit play.

It showed a girl with dark hair, blue eyes, and pale skin motioning for someone off screen to come over. There was music going on in the background and the girl was obviously getting impatient. The figure came on screen and they were all shocked to see it was Jason. Then at the top of the screen the words ‘Doing this trend with my overprotective best friend’ appeared and now they were very confused. Jason had never mentioned this girl before.

The music stopped and the girl repeated the lyrics “Look at my ass, look at my thighs” as she turned around. But before she could turn around Jason picked her up and carried her off screen before the video ended.

“What was that?” Dick asked after a few seconds of silence.

“It’s a trend on tik tok that girls usually do with their boyfriends, but in this case Jason and this girl are just best friends.” Steph answered.

“How does Jason even know this girl?” Dick pointed out, asking the question that was on all of their minds. Unfortunately, no one, not even Tim, knew the answer.

Cass then spoke up, “Watch more.” She grabbed Tim’s phone and played another video, however this time it was Jason holding the camera. He came over to the strange girl who looked to be baking something. She looked up at him weirdly, asking something that couldn’t be heard because of the audio playing, luckily they could read lips.

‘What are you doing?’ She asked

Jason responded with ‘Just listen.’

She turned her attention to the camera as the lyrics “That’s my best friend, that’s my best friend” played. Jason was moving to the beat and that seemed to convince the girl to also move to the beat. The song continued with more lyrics playing “She’s not my girlfriend, she’s my best friend”. Then suddenly the lyrics “I just fuck her her from time to time” played and the girl whipped out her spoon and started whacking him on the head with it. She was screaming ‘LIES’ just before the video cut out.

This led to them going on a spree of watching their tik toks. Apparently this was their shared account and both of them had separate accounts they planned to look at later. An hour had passed of them just watching their tik toks before they stumbled upon an intriguing one. The caption was ‘You guys asked for it, so I’ll explain. This is going to be my side of the story.’

It showed Margot, as they had found out her name was, sitting on her bed recording herself painting her nails a blood red as she talked.

“Ok so you guys have been asking for this for a while so here it is. How I met Jason part one. And Jason will also be doing his side of the story, just so you’re aware, watch that after this. But this also takes place after the whole ‘Hawkmoth and Lila Incident’ so if you haven’t watched that storytime on my personal account, you should probably go do that.”

One look at each other and they knew they were gonna look at the story afterwards. It was getting too good to leave now.

“So a long time ago I had a venting account on Instagram. Now I had many venting accounts, all with different usernames, including Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat, all that good stuff but Instagram is where I met Jason. I posted something about how death could never stop me because I had died by the hands of an akuma before but ladybug’s cure brought me back to life. But then later on in the post I said something about how if this one boy, you all know who he is, couldn’t take a hint then I would rather let death take me than bother living in this mortal realm. Jason ended up seeing the post since we were following each other at the time and DMed me. Now he said and I quote ‘Yo, my username at the time, if you need me to come and beat this guys ass I would be more than happy too. I would gladly let death claim me as well without your shit posts to relate to.’”

She had tried to make her voice sound deeper and had stopped painting her nails so she could do air quotes. “Looking back on it now, that is such a Jason thing to say, but at the time I was pretty confused and mildly concerned. And time’s up, part two will be posted right now.”

“Wait, what the heck is an akuma and ladybug’s cure and why did she die from it!?!?!” Dick shouted once the video ended.

“Dick you don’t know what she’s talking about?” Babs asked in disbelief.

“Tt, Grayson, and I thought you were one of the smart ones in this family.” Damian scoffed.

“Does everyone here, but me, know what she's talking about?” Dick questioned, getting yes and nods from everyone in the room.

“Okay Dick,” Tim began, “This is gonna be pretty unbelievable and complicated so I’ll try to explain it as best I can in a short amount of time so we can finish her side of the story before dinner. So while I’m explaining don’t interrupt me.”

He waited for Dick to nod his head before continuing. “There are jewelry called miraculous that house mini gods that grant powers to whoever has the jewelry. Each miraculous houses a different god thus a different power. Miraculous themselves, including the gods bound to them, are neutral so they can be used for good or evil depending on who wields them.

Hawkmoth and Mayura used the butterfly and peacock miraculouses for evil purposes and were basically emotional terrorists to the people of Paris. Hawkmoth was able to send out a butterfly with magic to a person feeling negative emotions and manipulate them to do his bidding. These butterflies and villains created by the butterflies were called akumas. If you were or became an akuma you were akumatized. Mayura was able to send out a feather with magic that also used negative emotions to create a monster that aided the akuma. The feathers were called amuks and the monsters were called sentimonsters.

That was when the heroes Ladybug and Chat Noir also came along and fought Hawkmoth. Ladybug had the ladybug miraculous which granted her the power of lucky charm and miraculous ladybug. Lucky charm gave her an item needed to defeat the akuma and miraculous ladybug reversed all the damage a fight caused. She also had the task of purifying the akuma, turning it back into a butterfly. Chat Noir had the black cat miraculous which granted the power of cataclysm, which made it so he could destroy anything he touched. The 2 worked as a team for around a year before they brought in other temporary heroes who are not that important. Eventually all their temp heroes’ identities were outed and they could no longer use them so they were back to square one.

However many people noticed that Chat Noir was not taking his job as seriously, he began sitting out battles, flirting with ladybug while there was an akuma, and even getting civilians killed, relying too heavily on ladybug’s cure. We’re not exactly sure what happened, we assumed she snapped because one akuma attack Chat Noir was not there. Instead, there was a whole new team of miraculous wielders including Murder Hornet wielder of the bee miraculous who had the power venom which let her temporarily paralize her opponent, Red Illusion wielder of the fox miraculous who had the power mirage which let him create illusions, Peridot Protector wielder of the turtle miraculous who had the power shelter which allowed him to create indestructible shields, Medusa wielder of the snake miraculous who had the power second chance which allowed her to reset the time line as many times as needed to win the battle, Mustang wielder of the horse miraculous who had the power voyage which let him create portals, and a new black cat holder, Midnight.

The team took 6 months to defeat Hawkmoth and Mayura, who turned out to be Gabriel Agreste and Natalie Sancour. The Justice League tried to recruit them but they all wanted to live normal lives. Ladybug still checks in every 3-6 months to reassure everyone she still has all the miraculous. I don’t blame them, especially Ladybug, for wanting a normal life. This whole thing started when they were around 13 and ended when they were around 17.”

Tim then clicked on part two of her story, not even waiting for Dick to recover from the huge information dump.

It was the exact same place she was at in part one, and she was still painting her nails the same shade of blood red. “Okay guys part two of how Jason and I met. If you didn’t watch part one go watch then return to this one. So picking up where we left off I Dmed him back and we ended up having a very long conversation about murder, people not understanding the word no, and spineless cowards. This went on for quite a while of us just messaging each other and eventually we gave each other our emails and then phone numbers. I gave him my phone number just before I moved out of Paris. After like 6 months of texting we planned to meet up at some park in New York that was near the apartment I lived at at the time. Now in hindsight that was a very dumb move on my part so to all the kids watching don’t go meeting up with strangers you meet on the internet. Do as I say not as I did. I almost regretted my decision to meet up with him because he is intimidating as hell! He’s like over 6 foot tall, with muscles the size of my head! I honestly thought that I had put myself in a very bad situation but thankfully he was just as nice in real life like he was over text. We ended up hanging out a lot more and long story short we’re best friends!”

It was at this point that she looked directly into the camera with a glare that could rival Batman’s, stating, “Literally just best friends to all the people who think shipping us is okay!” And just like that, it was gone, “Anyways see you guys next video, bye!”

And with that the video ended and the Wayne children, minus Jason obviously, were left wondering how they missed the fact Jason had a female best friend. One where they declared their friendship on the internet nonetheless!

“Well that was certainly something.” Steph commented.

“Yeah, who knew Jason could have a non hero friend that we didn’t know about.” Tim joked.

“So are we gonna watch Jason’s part?” Dick asked.

“I don’t think we have time for that, but we can watch it after dinner.” Tim suggested, “Alfred is probably on his way to get us right now.”

“Tt, what do we do now?” Damian questioned.

It was then that Cass stole Tim’s phone and started to play a new tik tok. And it showed Margot trying to teach Jason how to do the WAP dance. They were never letting him hear the end of this.

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

I am literally so sorry for that huge information dump with the miraculous. I did not expect to get that carried away while writing and by the time I realized it, it was too late and I had to post. Honestly because of how much I wrote I will probably use the miraculous holders names in a future fic, cause I’m lazy. :P Also if you wanna guess their identities feel free to! Anyways tomorrows prompt fic thing will be like a prequel for this one, it’s basically why Marinette now goes by Margot and why she lived/lives in New York. The prompt “Betrayal" will be connected to this as well. :) Also sorry this was posted so late, I had things to do, that I still need to do...I hate procrastination

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribatmarch2021 #maribat #maribat march #internet friends #platonic jasonette #tik tok

182 notes · View notes

platypanthewriter · 3 years ago

Text

Guess Again

Day Four of Harringrove AUgust, Profession AU! Steve runs into a hot guy named Billy on his plane flight back to Indianapolis, and Billy lies about what he does for a living, then, laughing, admits he lied. The prize for this guessing game: an exchange of phone numbers.

Steve found his seat, in coach, because that was the only seat available on the overbooked flight into Indianapolis a week before Thanksgiving. He shoved his carry-on under the seat, and wedged himself in the limited leg room, opening his laptop to answer the emails that had been pinging his phone before the plane was ready to take off, and he—blessedly—had to go into airplane mode.

He barely even noticed the guy wedging himself in to sit by the window, and trying to get the damn table to stay up. Steve typed away as the busted table mechanism flapped onto the guy’s lap over and over. Finally, Steve grimaced, glancing over. “You can use my table,” he offered, registering only that the guy was tattooed, and kinda...hot. “I’ll put this away as soon as we taxi to the runway.”

“It’s fine,” the dude said, smacking the floppy table with a sigh. “Not like there’s a meal on this flight.”

“You can lean in and share my pretzels,” Steve told him, grinning over, and was met with big, long-lashed blue eyes, an annoying mustache, and curls that curved around an attractively firm jaw.

The guy nodded, and put the broken table away. “...kind of a workaholic?” he asked, probably because it was nearly ten o’clock at night, and Steve was glaring at his screen and typing emails like his survival depended on a high word count.

He snorted a laugh. “I left them all until now,” he said, grimacing. “They really don’t need my input, but if I replied earlier, they’d just ask me something else. Something they could google.” He narrowed his eyes at an email from a coworker who’d actually emailed to ask for exact details of what was allowed under the sexual harassment policy. Talk to HR, he sent back. Creep, he thought. He finished the last of the replies, hoping he wasn’t sending anything too weird in his distraction, and closed his laptop. “Um. Sorry. What do you do?”

“I sell life insurance,” the guy said immediately, with a toothy grin. “I’ll sell you so much insurance on this flight.”

“Uh,” Steve said, blinking at him. “Umm...oh.”

“That’s a lie,” was the dude’s followup, and Steve stared at him, starting to regret his offer to share a table, or catch the flight at all. “I don’t sell life insurance, I swear. I promise,” the guy said, laughing. “God, your face. I just...my job is...I started telling people I sell life insurance, so they wouldn’t talk to me.”

“I can just sit over here,” Steve offered, pretending to zip his lips.

“No, no, it’s, uh. Sorry I lied. Talk to me, it’s a long flight.”

“Why do you have to lie?” Steve had to ask, and the guy grimaced.

“My job’s kinda awkward,” he said, laughing.

“Are you a...porn star?” Steve asked, trying to figure out what kind of job would get the worst people to talk to you, and the dude cracked up.

“Jesus, no, but thanks for the ego boost,” he said, and Steve snorted a laugh.

“Um. What about…” Steve thought, opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Can I guess?” he asked, grinning, and the guy snickered.

“Sure. Give it your best shot. Just don’t tell me any horror stories.”

“Do you embalm bodies?” Steve tried, already holding back a tide of questions, like did you ever drop one and have to fix a broken nose.

“Nope!” said the guy, turning to lean more against the window, to face Steve. “How many tries do you want before I just tell you?”

“Oh, no, no, lemme guess,” Steve said, thinking as they came around asking for drink orders. “Horror stories...um. Are you a soldier?” he asked, wide-eyed, and the guy laughed again.

“No! No, nothing like that.” He leaned to see Steve’s ID as Steve pulled it out to order a beer, and Steve grinned.

“I’m Steve.”

“Billy,” said his mysteriously-employed seatmate, offering his hand, and Steve flipped it over investigatively.

“You don’t have those, like, love/hate knuckle tattoos,” he said, feeling like a detective. “So...maybe not a biker?”

“I’m not a biker,” Billy snickered. His hand was warm in Steve’s. “Is that even a job?”

“Oh! Oh!” Steve leaned forward, sure he had it this time, and Billy moved the armrest between them out of the way. “A writer?”

“What?!” Billy laughed, which probably meant Steve was wrong, but he argued his point.

“People tell you horror stories,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “So—so probably everybody tells you they have a great idea for your next novel—”

“No, uh. One clue,” Billy said, grimacing. “They’re true stories.”

“True stories,” Steve said, going to cross his arms in thought, and realizing Billy hadn’t taken his hand back. “Uh, what do I get if I guess right?” he asked, squeezing Billy’s hand, and Billy snorted a laugh, grinning like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“I dunno, I feel like Rumpelstilzkin, you want like my firstborn or—”

“No, nope,” Steve made a face. “I got enough kids around, thanks. Oh—” he blinked, realizing how that sounded as Billy started to pull his hand back, and lean away, “—not, like, I’m not a dad, I don’t have a wife and kids or anything. I just have some little shitheads that come over all the time and eat all my popsicles and pizza.”

“Oh good,” Billy said dryly. “I’d feel terrible if holding my hand ruined your marriage.”

“No other knuckles can fulfill me, now,” Steve said soulfully, and then when Billy burst out laughing, Steve couldn’t hold a straight face.

“You know how fucking dirty that sounds, right,” Billy whispered, rubbing his face with the hand Steve wasn’t holding, and Steve snorted a laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to get you to fist me on the plane,” he hissed back.

“Coward,” Billy shot back, and then they started giggling again, like they were ten.

“True horror stories,” Steve repeated, later, as they leaned together over the napkin on his tiny airplane table, where he was keeping track of the guesses he’d already made. “True horror stories. Are you a reporter?”

“God no,” Billy said, making a face. “Imagine this many tattoos in front of the news cameras? We’ve got a ways to go before they allow that.”

“Oh, true,” Steve nodded. “I mean, unless you worked for, like, a tabloid. Circling everyone’s stomach in pictures and writing ‘BABY BUMP?!’ on it.”

Billy jumped when Steve yelled ‘BABY BUMP’, and half the plane twitched and mumbled. “Fuck no!” he hissed, laughing. “Ssh!”

“Huh,” Steve said, studying the napkin. “Oh! Um,” he grimaced. “Police officer?”

“No,” Billy growled, and Steve nodded, writing that down and crossing it out, and sipping his third beer. “We never worked out what you got if you guessed,” Billy said, watching.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve agreed, nodding. “Uh, what about...dinner?”

“We’re gonna land at like six in the morning,” Billy pointed out, and Steve fingergunned him.

“Breakfast.”

Billy laughed. “I dunno if I’m willing to put out on our first plane trip together.”

“Lemme get you, like, bacon and eggs,” Steve said, leaning in and waggling his eyebrows, “—and my phone number.” He smirked as Billy cackled, leaning his head in the window.

“Yeah, okay. Gimme some breakfast sausage, Steve,” he said softly, the overhead reading light making his curls glow a little, like a halo.

“Now I haveta figure it out,” Steve said, frowning at his list, and Billy’s fingers twitched towards him. Steve grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together, and accepted another beer from the flight attendant. “I wonder how many beers that is,” he said, prodding at the label with his thumbnail. “I think they’re like ten bucks a pop.”

“I bet the alcohol will really help you think,” Billy said dryly, and Steve made a face at him.

“Shut up, I got it. I got it this time,” he said, tipping his head back for a long, satisfying drink of beer, and wiping his mouth. Billy’s mouth hung a little open when he finished, and Steve licked his lips, grinning. “You—you’re a doctor. A—a doctor of butts. A butt-doctor.”

Billy started laughing so hard, silently, that Steve was starting to wonder whether he could breathe.

“I’m right, right?” Steve said, taking a triumphant swig, and Billy shook his head, wheezing for air.

“You mean a proctologist?!” he gasped.

“Yeah, and you understood fine,” Steve told him, annoyed.

“I’m not—I’m not a butt doctor,” Billy choked out, tears of laughter in his eyes. “I don’t have a doctorate in ass—”

“Your loss,” Steve muttered, glaring at the napkin with the list. “Man, my cousin is one, and he has some stories. Dude, that’s everything, that’s every damn job. Ever. Do zookeepers get told horror stories?! Oh!” He pointed the beer bottle at Billy. “Dentist!”

“No,” Billy giggled, his hair rising with static in the dry air of the plane, and sticking to the wall and window behind him. He looked ruffled and fond, and Steve squeezed his hand again, trying to think of what he’d missed, before the plane landed, and he’d spent the entire flight guessing jobs, and Billy hadn’t even given him a last name.

“Shit,” Steve said, then straightened again. “No, okay, this time,” he said, the beer making his words a little soft around the edges, “This time I really have it. You’re a Mickey Mouse person.”

“I’m a what now,” Billy said, still snickering.

“You know,” Steve said, his eyes narrowed. “You crawl up the ass of one of those suits and let kids think you’re a Disney princess.”

“No, Harrington,” Billy said, breathlessly, as he shook with laughter. “No, I do not. Do people tell mascots horror stories?! I don’t even want to know. Which princess? Just for scientific curiosity, Steve, which princess do I crawl up the ass of, in your brain?”

Steve tried to remember them all. “Not Jasmine,” he said with certainty. “Um. Wait, Peter Pan? Maybe?”

“Peter Pan’s not a princess,” Billy choked out, wiping his eyes as he tried to muffle his laughter.

“Hrm,” Steve said, accepting another beer and huffing a sigh, but Billy leaned in suddenly and just kissed him. His lips were warm and chapped, and Steve hummed happily against them. Their teeth bumped, a little, because Billy was giggling so hard, and Steve was grinning so wide his cheek muscles ached.

“I’m a drug and alcohol counselor,” Billy said with a grimace, and Steve glared at his beer, betrayed, "—so, um, horror stories. Yeah."

"I just have butt-doctor horror stories," Steve said quickly, trying to salvage the situation, and he shoved his beer behind him.

Billy laughed harder, shaking his head. "I’ll still take that number,” he whispered, kissing Steve again—and snickering, his cheeks flushed. “And breakfast?”

Here’s my other Harringrove stuff! Or check out the Harringrove AUgust collection on Ao3! Add something! =D

#Harringrove AUgust #Harringrove #Profession AU #Meet-cute #Fluff and banter

34 notes · View notes

mewmewchann · 2 years ago

Text

The daily life of being on a computing course

Aka: things I have said or have heard other people say at some point during my course/look these quotes are golden and I needed to record them somewhere

A lot of these are chaotic and I thought you all would appreciate them If you think my DnD quotes are chaotic, y’all are gonna love these

“Come to think of it, this course is kinda useless when 95% of our job is just looking up the answers on Google.”

“You know what makes things better? Gatling guns”

“It was about 20 minutes of this guy making dramatic gestures with no sound whatsoever”

“DON’T EXPECT ME TO DO THIS! I HAVE TINY WEAK GIRL FINGERS!!!”

“Coffee is not a balanced meal.” “It is if you aren’t a coward.”

“If this fucking disconnects I’m gonna start killing”

“There's a scary pile of emails looking at me and I think if I keep ignoring them, they'll go away.”

“They used Comic Sans. A professional website, that our lecturer with at least 20 years of experience has used as a source, uses fucking Comic Sans”

*hands over a chocolate bar* “You are a starving child.”

*reclining in my chair dramatically* “Craaaawling iiiiiin my skiiiiiiiiin”

“WHY IS MY HAND NOW THE ON/OFF SWITCH”

“I only clicked one thing and it fucking killed everything”

“How the hell did I pass? I don’t remember bribing anyone.”

“Relational databases are the best thing since sliced bread!” ... ... “...Wait what’s so good about sliced bread”

“...Did I seriously just do mental math in the context of disinfectant wipes”

“I thought I’d live until at least 50. Turns out, I’m dying at age 20 because someone I’m peer reviewing doesn’t know basic grammar”

“...Okay now the desk is the on/off switch-”

“Sorry that your code isn’t working, but you have good taste in music.”

“Are you okay?” “I think I’m dying” “...Yeah she’s fine”

“This ran smoothly for most of its test run but then gave up at the end.” ... ... ... “I’m gonna name it ‘Game of Thrones’.”

#shitpost #out of context quotes #university quotes #And yes all of these are real #And no #I still have no clue what the on/off switch is #Mew's quotebook

3 notes · View notes

p-artsypants · 3 years ago

Text

The Ghost of Smokey Joe (2)

Autumn Serenade

Adrien Agreste was acting bizarre. Stilted body language, plastic smile, and he seemed to have forgotten how close they were. Before she can get the truth out of him, Marinette finds herself as the sole heir to the Gabriel brand and the mansion, following the murder-suicide of both Adrien and Gabriel Agreste. The mystery continues as Tikki explains that Adrien was Chat Noir...but if Adrien is six feet under, why is Chat Noir still running around?

Ao3 | FF.net

Many hours later, the door clicked closed, and Marinette sat up straight in attention. “Adrien?”

“No girl, just me,” said Alya. “Did you sleep at the table all night?”

Sunlight poured in the window.

“I guess I did.” Marinette rubbed at her eye, smearing her mascara. “What time is it?”

“Morning time. Almost 8. I’m surprised Sunshine isn’t still here. I have expected to catch you both cuddling on the couch together. Did you just…fall asleep at the table?”

Marinette didn’t answer, her eyes welling up with tears.

“Marinette?”

“He bailed on me. Ghosted me. Not even a text.”

“He what!?” She shrieked. “Why that dumb little—“ Alya whipped out her phone, and called someone, putting them on speaker.

“He didn’t answer me, Alya, don’t even try.”

Instead, Nino’s voice spoke over the line. “What did you forget?”

“I didn’t forget anything! It was that Best Man of yours!”

“Adrien? What did stuffed-with-fluff forget?”

“He forgot Marinette!”

“Marinette? He ghosted her!?��

“Yes! He never showed! And he’s not answering any calls, so you better get a good excuse from him! He better be dead or in the hospital, or I’ll put him there!”

“Alya…” Marinette said weakly. “I’m sure he has a good excuse…”

“I’ll call him,” Nino promised. “I’ll figure this all out. He’s a good boy, I know he wouldn’t just…not call.”

“I want to believe that too,” Alya said with pain in her voice.

Then, Marinette’s phone rang, and she hurriedly answered it, not looking at the number. “Hello?”

“Hello Miss Dupain-Cheng,” said Nathalie.

“Oh, good morning.”

“I’m calling to inform you that next week, you’ll be working from the office all week. Mr. Agreste is…feeling unwell.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you for letting me know. By chance, is Adrien there?”

“No.” And without anything else, Nathalie hung up.

“Rude,” Marinette muttered to herself. “Something smells fishy.”

Nino called back a minute later. “I can’t get a hold of Adrien either. He’s not answering his phone.”

Alya frowned, arms crossed. “Fishy indeed.”

“Well, he can’t avoid me forever. I am Gabriel’s intern, so I’ll corner him sometime.” Then a horrible realization came over Marinette. “Oh god, he didn’t actually ask me out!”

“What? Did you daydream this whole thing?!”

“No! He asked me if I wanted to have dinner, and he said he had something important he wanted to tell me! But he never clarified that it was a date! I kissed his cheek! What if he panicked!? Alya, this is my fault!”

Nino laughed from the other end of the line. “Dude, this is so not your fault. It sounded like a date to me. He still owes you an explanation. Regardless of what type. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Nino’s got it right, Marinette. You didn’t do anything wrong. When he stops being such a butthead, he’ll come groveling. I promise.”

“Yeah, well, we can only hope.”

Through the trees

Comes Autumn with her serenade

Melodies

The sweetest music ever played

Autumn kisses we knew

Are beautiful souvenirs

A whole week of silence was torture. Marinette continued to go to work, and put on her big girl pants and acted like everything was fine. Gabriel only communicated to her through emails, and she was unanimously thrust into the leadership role in his absence.

It was frustrating, annoying, and stressful, since she was not prepared to become CEO overnight. By the end of the week, she had run herself ragged. Fueled by coffee and fear of failure, she wrapped up her last project for the evening, and went back to the apartment.

There, blessedly, Alya and Nino greeted her with hugs and leftovers.

“Rough day?”

“Rough week! Mr. Agreste has been basically AWOL, and I’m the one filling in! He doesn’t answer my phone calls or texts, and answers my emails an hour after the fact. I’m exhausted!”

“And Nathalie didn’t say anything to you?”

“Nope, she’s sealed up tight. Apparently, Gabriel is sick. But I can’t get any news about Adrien. Honestly, I’m about one mental breakdown away from breaking down the gates and demanding answers.”

Alya chuckled. “No need to be so drastic, Marinette. Maybe both of them got the flu, and Nathalie is forbidding them from doing anything but resting. You know how strict she is.”

Marinette kicked off her shoes and leaned her head back on the couch. “I know, I know, and you’re probably right. It might be best if I come up with a plan in case this ever happens again. Specifically Gabriel getting sick, not Adrien being a coward.”

“It’s weird though,” Said Nino. “Adrien’s always been overly considerate. Even after all this time, he still asks too many questions about social faux pas. For him to just ghost you, for a whole week even; it’s concerning.”

Marinette had tried not to think like that. Adrien being awkward and scared was so much easier to stomach than something tragic befalling him.

And yet, if it had, wouldn’t she know by now?

She took out her phone, and called Nathalie, much to the curious gazes of Nino and Alya.

“Hello Marinette.” The woman greeted, as stoic as ever. “I was under the impression that you were done for the night.”

“I am. I just...haven’t heard from Adrien all week.”

“With Gabriel ill, Adrien has been busy, much like you. It wouldn’t surprise me that social calls would fall to the wayside.”

“I was just...worried. Is he there?”

“Yes. He’s fine.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“He’s asleep. He’s had a hard week. You’ll see him Monday, as Mr. Agreste wants you working at the manor.”

“Oh, okay then. I guess...thank you, Nathalie.”

“You're welcome.” The call ended.

“So he’s not dead in a ditch.” Marinette announced. “Nathalie said he’s asleep. And I’ll see him Monday.”

Nino frowned, though he didn’t say anything.

It was just...odd.

As I pause to recall

The leaves seem to fall like tears

Silver stars

Were clinging to an Autumn sky

Monday morning, Marinette went over to the mansion. She rang the bell, and the gates opened. She crossed the quiet drive, the gates shutting behind her, and approached the door.

There was usually someone there to open it to greet her, whether it was Nathalie or the Gorilla. Not this time.

Marinette took hold of the handle and opened it herself, for the first time ever. She didn’t think they would mind, if the gate opened.

“Hello?” She called. “Nathalie?”

The lights in the foyer were off. And despite the large windows beside her, dark shadows hung in the corners like cobwebs.

The house felt empty. Cold, and dark. The manor had always been cold, of course. It was picture perfect, sterile and modern minimal. But today it felt worse. Noticeably worse.

If this is what it felt like at night when she went home, it was no wonder Adrien hated it here.

The doors to Gabriel’s office were closed, and she approached, knocking gently.

“Come in.” Said Nathalie’s voice.

She was at her desk, but Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. “Good morning,” she greeted.

“G-good morning.” Marinette nodded. “I’m just letting you know I’m here. You usually greet me at the door so...”

“You’ve been here long enough, I didn’t think such formalities were necessary.”

“They aren’t! It’s fine, totally fine. Just...unexpected is all. Is Gabriel still ill?”

“A bit. He may come down, but he may not. I will field all questions.”

“Okay,” she nodded. She prepared to leave, but asked. “Is Adrien home?”

“He’s working in his room. He’s very busy.”

Marinette just nodded, and went to her own office down the hall.

It was a smaller room, used to belong to Emilie. Gabriel was very specific about how things were kept. The desk was Marinette’s, but everything else was Emilie’s. The bureau in the corner, the little settee, the curtains, it was all her design. Emilie had good taste, thankfully, and so the room was fine the way it was.

Even with the light off, this room didn’t have that oppressive weight in it.

She could relax, however slightly, and get to work.

It was hard to concentrate on work when all she wanted to do was storm upstairs and demand answers from Adrien. At this point, she definitely felt like she deserved them. Date or not, she deserved a little closure as to what had happened, and why he had never followed up.

In all likeliness, it would probably just be, “my phone died, and then I forgot to text you back.”

But Nino’s comment about Adrien’s extreme consciousness really nagged at her.

Before she knew it, it was time for her lunch break, and she took her sack lunch with her to Gabriel’s office.

He still hadn’t come down, but Nathalie was there.

“Nathalie? I’m taking my lunch now. Do you think I could visit Adrien?”

The woman stopped her work and screwed up her lips, an expression Marinette had never seen on her before. She seemed to be thinking much too hard.

“I will go see if he is able to handle company.”

“Tell him I don’t want to bother him, and we don’t have to talk. I just want company.”

Nathalie nodded, and stepped out of the room. Marinette followed across the foyer, before Nathalie harshly told her, “wait here.”

She ascended the stairs to Adrien’s room.

Love was ours

Until October wandered by

Let the years come and go

I'll still feel the glow

That time cannot fade

When I hear

That lovely Autumn serenade

Marinette never had to wait. Since working in the same house, they had developed a pretty open door policy. He was allowed in her office anytime, and likewise, she was allowed in his room, though she usually knocked first. Young men and all.

But this was the first time anything like this happened. Was Nathalie just paranoid about her getting sick too? Or her getting Adrien sick?

Was Adrien still ignoring her, and let Nathalie in on it?

What had she done to warrant this reaction?

Finally, Nathalie came out of the room.

“Adrien can see you for a little bit. But he’s busy, so try not to distract him.” Her tone was stern, in a way that made Marinette instinctively curl into herself. A sternness like she was in trouble.

Seriously, what did she do?!

She climbed the stairs, and approached the door, knocking slightly. “Adrien?”

“Please come in,” his voice called back.

When she entered, she noticed the lights were out. He sat in his computer chair, facing her completely, sitting rigidly, and smiling.

It was the fakest smile she’d ever seen.

She sighed. “Relax. I’m not mad.”

He blinked. “You…aren’t?”

“I mean, I’m a little confused. Why didn’t you show?”

He frowned. “I’m sorry, I think I’m the one that’s confused. What are you talking about?”

She scoffed. “Last week? We were going to have dinner? You never showed or called?”

“Oh. I…forgot.”

“It was your idea!”

“I…was sick. And I fell asleep. Yes. What day?”

“Friday night.”

His eyes widened. “Oh yes. That is exactly what happened.”

She sighed as she sank into his couch, and opened her lunch. “I understand. I really do, but next time, could you return my calls? I spent a whole week in silence from you.”

“Nathalie confiscated my phone.”

This made her chuckle. “Okay, that’s an ironclad excuse.”

He smiled, again, so fake.

“So what did you want to tell me?”

“Tell you? I was under the impression that you wanted to talk to me.”

“Well yeah, but on Friday. You asked me to dinner and said you wanted to tell me something.”

He spun around in his chair to look at his computer. He scrolled through a document, and then turned back to her. “I don’t remember, I’m afraid. This past week has been…a bit fuzzy, to tell you the truth.”

“What were you sick with?”

His eye twitched. “Uh, cancer.”

“WHAT?!”

“Too severe? Strep throat then. Pneumonia. Bronchitis.”

“You could just say you don’t know instead of giving me a heart attack, you know.”

“Apologies.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Talking how so?”

“Like, really proper.”

“Is it not how I usually talk?”

“Not when we’re alone…”

He screwed up his lips. “Hmm. My bad. Too many period dramas while I was sick, I suppose.”

She laughed. “Oh my gosh, like when we binged Sherlock together, and we couldn’t stop talking with British accents?!”

He grinned. “Precisely. Just like that.”

“Man, had I known you were sick, I would have brought you some soup and given you company.”

“Nathalie wouldn’t have let you.”

“I know. It just kills me to think that you were alone all week.”

“It kills you?” He looked horrified.

“Yeah…I know you get lonely…sorry, I’m prying again.”

He shook his head. “Just…the phrasing caught me off guard.”

Marinette noticed from the moment she walked in, he had only once glanced at his computer. She was being a distraction, just like Nathalie had asked her not to.

“Well, I heard you were busy, so I’ll finish my lunch in my office. But, we’re good right?”

“What?”

“Like, you aren’t mad at me for anything? I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“No, you did nothing wrong. We’re great friends.”

“Good!”

Something was wrong.

Love was ours

Until October wandered by

Let the years come and go

I'll still feel the glow

That time cannot fade

When I hear

That lovely Autumn serenade

She walked to him and kissed his temple, like he always appreciated, and she spared a glance at the computer screen.

She only got a glimpse of the first line.

‘Your name is Adrien Agreste.’

I can’t guarantee prompt updates for a little bit. I have some logistics to figure out, but I have a few chapters ready, so I figured I’d start posting! All the chapter titles are songs from my spooky halloween playlist that inspired this fic (and their lyrics will be in the chapters)! You can find that playlist here. The playlist will be updated as the fic goes on.

I hope to post the last chapter on Halloween!

#ml #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #the ghost of Smokey Joe #ladybug #chat noir #ghost story

27 notes · View notes