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keevansixx · 5 years ago

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The Future Was Now...

I heard an interesting opinion concerning sub-cultures and why, in today’s age, you almost never see any sub-culture being represented on the streets anymore. When you do spy one of these rare individuals out in the wild, it’s like some rare mythical beast of a thing...fleeting, fierce, and wonderous.

Welcome to generation V (V as in “Virtual”, and not vain, vibrant, vitriol, vivacious, nor victor)

The sub-cultures of the past have all died, their digital ghosts haunt the databases like the proverbial zombies of old. Resurrected every so often to wistful nostalgia, and as meme fodder for the youth of today. Gone, are the days of artfully attired denizens of the world... languidly rambling to and fro across the surface of the land, spreading creativity in their wake like massive glaciers carving rivulets in the tapestry of the earth to be witnessed by eyes unseen, and thoughts unbridled. No....those days are long gone and forgotten.

Here I sit, alone in a box of my own design. Shackled to a monitor who’s glow is the only ambient light in the room, I watch the world scroll by in 1′s and 0′s rendered in pixel point perfection into images that my mind perceives as pictures of a world I no longer see, in a land I no longer feel, and a place that only resembles what one would call home. I no longer leave the confines of my prison. No toe crosses the threshold of my room....it’s safe here, and everything I need is in the box....no need to leave, no need to explore, no need to wander anymore.

I’m told what I should eat...and I do so. I’m told what I should be thinking...and I do so. Anything contrary to the will of the mob is quelled with harsh criticisms, threats, and heavy handed browbeating from the lowest common denominator. “No!...thou shall not think outside the box! Thou shalt follow the thought speak of the masses! Thou shalt not have an original thought or opinion! Those are reserved for the popular chattel that have earned their vanity marks in the digital realm.” I’m to remain a good obedient little digital puppet to the will of the masses. I’m told how I should dress....and I do so. The almighty digital overlords demand acquiescence, obedience, and submission to their cyber-hubris. “No creativity allowed that exceeds that of the common person, lest you offend...lest you shame...lest you make feel....the mighty digital overlords.”

“Sounds like a pretty shitty way to live.”...and you’re right...it is.

It starts on any given day, on any given week, of any given year...

I open the window. the moonlight pours in from a harvest moon I haven't seen since I was a kid, alone in the dark, watching the stars go by. I throw on some shoes that were the huge internet trend a few months ago, everybody just absolutely had to get them to be in the vouge of the moment, and walk to the door. Stepping out side, I hear the chime of the monitor, the chirp chirp of the phone screaming out for my immediate attention “Message! Alert! Come respond NOW!” the annoying braying pings, whistles, chirps, and bells that demand obedience and response.

I close the door behind me to the sound of stillness...the sonic detritus silenced by wood and glass, and I beheld the night in all it’s splendor...….glorious!

For the first time in a very long while....I have an original thought.

“What if I'm not the only one..?” “what if, there are others out there like me?” “what if...we found each other?”

Over the many weary months that followed, I slowly weaned myself, bit by agonizing digital bit, from the shackles that bound me to my electronic prison. As each day and night passed, I spent more and more time away. Wandering the empty paths I once trod in my youth. It’s empty now....very few wander anymore outside of those whom make the world turn through service, and the multitude of electronic zombies (E-Zomb’s) faces crammed into phone screens, that move back and forth following their scripted paths of life. Just grunts or the half-hearted handwave to acknowledge that they are still breathing and alive.

I sit alone beneath a large tree in the center of town, watching it all go by...a little notebook open in my lap, where I jot down the most interesting thoughts that pop into my brain from time to time, when I see a purple post-it note pinned to the tree with a thumbtack. On it is an artful picture of an eye wearing a butterfly wing in it’s corner crease, with a small address and time and no designation. I take the note, and put it into my notebook to await evening at the appointed time...curious, but still a little bit cautious.

the sky is a beautiful velvet purple and crimson as the sun sets and I near my destination from the note. I walk along a sidewalk counting the building numbers as I go by, various lamps and street posts begin to ignite into glowing life in the growing dusk. I stop between two buildings, note in my hand, I count the two and note that the number skips one between the two building fronts. I hear old music drifting on the wind between the two storefronts and notice a small painting of an eye with butterfly wings off a ways down the narrow alley between buildings. I step off the well trod sidewalk, and follow the sounds down the alley until I reach a courtyard....like the kind one finds in the special places of New Orleans that aren’t on the tourist maps, nor social media posts.

there are strings of lights everywhere, a few odd pieces of art statues, and wrought iron scattered across the courtyard. sitting on benches are kids in old hippie clothes, goth kids lurking near the stairwells, art kids wearing whatever the hell they stitched together out of a scrap bin and dancing in small groups to whatever was flowing out the speakers surrounding the area. I see street kids, and punk kids, rappers and writers huddled around tables furiously scribbling down lyrics and rhyme. Skaters talking about their latest gnarly shred, plain janes and joes talking about life and oppression....in a word...it was old scenes alive and well and very much kicking in a little courtyard in the middle of nowhere.

I get approached by one of the goth kids and a beautiful hippie girl. They both had smiles on their faces and a welcoming look.

The goth is the first to speak, “hey, new guy....you look a little lost. Anything we can do to help?”

I pull out the purple note and reply tentatively “Not all who wander are lost...”

“and not everyone who do are found....welcome!” beamed the hippie girl.

“well to be honest, it was blind curiosity that led me here, so far....*looking around*....I'm not disappointed.”

The goth dude looks sideways at me, then asks. “so....how long have you been unplugged?”

“About 6 months now, it’s not been easy.”

“Six months? Damn man.....you been alone all this time?”

“Yes....but it gave me time to think, to dream, to see a world I was no longer part of.”

“Wow....that’s deep, Mr. moody.....*eyeroll giggles* welcome to the club!!!” Hippy gal chimes in, “we all found our own ways out of the web in one way or another and sort of found each other by happy accident. You....well, you found one of our calling cards we throw up from time to time for a moot, just to touch bases and stay in touch.”

“Moot???” I reply.

The goth snorts a bit and broodingly says “Moot....a meet-up, soiree, party, get together, picnic, graveyard bash, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.” with profound dramatic hand waving. ”We meet up a few times a month in various locales to hob nob with the other unplugged, and share ideas or show off what’s been happening in our own scenes. Art, music, poetry, crafts...basically, all the best of us with none of the digital chains......everything’s on the table, and nothing is taboo. Within reason, of course *smirks* get too lewd and the community here is good about looking out for one another....fair warning.”

“Point taken. Understood. So, why the notes? Why not advertise on a board or through alts?”

Hippie gal grins, and says “Because, sugar, we’re old school.....analog, no digital...rockin’ the paper tags like the punks of old. Only those who unplug, and really start to notice the world around them will find us....like you. Notes on trees...that’s my contribution, people rarely ever look at the trees these days...too busy online with their faces crammed into their phones to notice. The goth crews tag the cemeteries and dark places, other kids leave clues in whatever scene they happen to be in, and we cross post the messages word of mouth in our own ways when we find out about the different moots going on across the cities. Tonight, it’s here in the garden with my tribe, next time it could be anywhere...you just have to keep your eyes open up for the clues as they place them. When in absolute doubt...always check the library...the dungeon/dragon kids always cross post every event they hear about in the stacks. We’re off grid baby! the ultimate “fuck you!” to the digital world. No chains, no obligations, 0 fucks given....living the life that was taken from us one soul at a time.

“Ok, so no online presence. check. Moots posted in randoms if I'm paying attention. check. If lost, check the stack for tags. anything else i’m missing?”

“Well, only thing else is snail....”

“Snail?”

“Snail mail....post office. Look, you’re going to meet people here...If you play your cards right, you might even get land addy’s from some of them. you want to stay in touch? Snail, or wait for the next moot to IRL face time. either way, you’re going to have to dust off those ancient writing skills if you want to stay in the loop. You don’t have to commit to anything...this isn’t an obligation, nor requirement, but it’s old common courtesy to reply when someone sends you a snail. Take a chance! you might just be surprised at what you get.”

“ummm, thanks?”

“No problem....and welcome to the revolution.”

I spend the rest of the evening being introduced to the different groups, watching the event as it unfolds. Being exposed to new ideas, and feelings I haven’t felt for a long long time. I get a few land addy’s from various patrons, and give out mine. It’s kind of nice, being here...in the moment.

the moot winds down, with groups and couples slowly wandering off into the night. I make my way over to a 24hr diner and grab a bite to eat. a few of the attendees are there as well grabbing coffee, or eats, and we continue conversations we had started a few hours earlier. It was a good night.

I make my way home in the early dawn, and for once, in my long life...I feel a sense of profound peace. Like everything, for just one brief moment in the world, is alright. A new glimmer of hope in my mind, and countless dreams just waiting for me to dream. life....is good.

I open the door to my home, the chimes of my digital masters fall on deaf ears for once, and I sleep the peace of the newly freed...

Sometimes, the most profound acts of rebellion involve the most simple of things, like removing oneself from that which binds you....

Welcome to a new sub-culture...may you free yourself from your virtual prisons, break the chains, and take a journey into the unknown.

this is Generation V.....signing off.....

#nightpost #randomthoughts

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wolfyred-ks · 6 years ago

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Adrinette April 2019 Day 16

@adrinetteapril

Hello all, here is part 3 of the surprise 4 parter from me. Enjoy! PS there aren’t many beaches in France that are close to Paris! and one with hot enough weather???!!!?!? Found it! And just to note, the whole story actually takes place after season 2 and before 3. No Weredad, no Camelon.

Part 1 - The Valentine

Part 2 - Love rivals

Part 4 - Confesion

Part 5 - In the rain

Day 16 - Beach

It was 2 weeks after Valentines Day and the class was on a full day trip to Rambouillet to spend time at the beach there. It was part biology class and part fun. They had gotten on the bus at 7am for the hour long trip. A lot of the students tried to get some more sleep which was fine by Adrien. He needed time alone with his thoughts after his talk with Ladybug last night.

There had been an akuma attack yesterday morning and to say at best he had been distracted and Ladybug had noticed. She had suggested meeting up that night on the Eiffel Tower to talk about it.

Ladybug had noticed that Chat seemed distracted at the beginning of the past 2 attacks.

Chat had told her that it was just minor problems in his civilian life, nothing to worry about.

Ladybug asked him to talk about it. She didn’t want him to get too distracted in battle and end up getting hurt.

Chat eventually told Ladybug that while he still cared for her, he was starting to have possible feelings toward another girl. He was just trying to work out if he actually liked her or if he was just worried about her as she was going through some problems herself.

Ladybug encouraged him to think about the girl. While he is her partner and friend and she considers him a very special person in her life, with the threat of Hawk Moth still out there they really couldn’t develop a relationship beyond the masks.

Chat ended up agreeing and said that he’d think on his feelings and see if he really liked this girl or not.

Adrien hadn’t mentioned to Ladybug that the girl he might like, liked someone else. That was part of what was confusing him now. He had watched Marinette and despite her saying she was going to give the Valentine card to the guy she liked, he hadn’t seen her paying attention to anyone.

Two things he had noticed was that one, she was stuttering a lot less around him and two, she seemed sad at times. Maybe on the trip today he would have a chance to find out if she had talked to the guy yet.

--------

Marinette and Alya had switched into their bathing suits and were standing together waiting for the rest of the class to change so the teacher could give their tasks for the trip.

“This is the most messed up situation you’ve ever gotten yourself into Mari.” Alya shook her head and crossed her arms.

“It’s not my fault. If you hadn’t taken my card then I wouldn’t have had to get it back and Adrien wouldn’t think there is some other boy I like.” Marinette huffed and crossed her own arms.

Exasperated Alya threw her arms in the air and then put her hands on her hips. “You didn’t have to get the card back at all. That was why I didn’t help you get it. Adrien had it and he would have read it, and would have thought it was sweet and he would have talked to you. At least to thank you.”

“Alya, did you not hear him after he came in. Getting cards like that only made him sad. Having them on the desk only made him think that the girls liked him superficially. Like they couldn’t be bothered to give it to him directly. If I had been able to ‘give’ it to him,” Marinette pointedly stared at Alya before continuing. “Then he would have know it was coming from me personally and would have meant more to him. Just having it on his desk would have been impersonal and not meant as much.”

“Ouch,” Alya looked crestfallen, “My bad. I’m sorry I didn’t think of that.”

Marinette looked at her. “It’s fine,” she sighed.

“Well,” Alya brightened. “There is nothing to stop you from saying that things didn’t work out, or he turned you down. It’s like you have turned off a faucet and aren’t even trying with Adrien any more.”

Marinette hung her head, “He deserves to be more then the ‘rebound’.”

“But he wouldn’t be. He’s the ‘ever since the beginning’ guy.” Alya argued back. “And there is no other guy.”

“But look at it this way,” Marinette started pointing out on her fingers, “Right now Adrien thinks I like some other guy. Last week he had asked me if I’ve talked to the guy yet. If he asks again then there is three things I can say.”

“If I say that I couldn’t ask out the other guy then I can’t ask out Adrien because I haven’t resolved my feelings for the other guy.”

“I could say that we are now going out and then we ‘break up’ later. If I ask out Adrien after that, then he’s the rebound guy.”

“If I say he didn’t like me back, then later I ask out Adrien, Adrien becomes the second choice guy.”

“In any of the cases if Adrien finds out that I’ve liked him from the beginning then; I have liked Adrien, fallen for another guy and moved on from Adrien, had problems with the other guy, and then gone back to Adrien. That looks like I’m fickle and who wants to date someone fickle.”

Alya grunted. “All right, those are good points.” She put an arm around Marinette, “What are you going to do? If the sunshine child had just noticed you sooner, all of this would be moot. I think you should pretend that he didn’t like you back. This way you have the heartbreak now, you can start on getting over him now, and who knows, maybe Adrien tries to cheer you up and he falls for you. Then Adrien can’t be the rebound guy.”

Marinette sighed and agreed, “It might be the better idea of pretending he turned me down. However I don’t think Adrien would fall in love with me trying to cheer me up. After a few months I can act like I’m over it and if Adrien is available then maybe I’ll ‘start’ crushing on him, again. Then we’re back to where we were before Valentine’s Day. Me liking him and him oblivious to me.”

--------

The boys arrived on the beach after changing. Nino was in lose blue boxer style swim shorts and an orange t-shirt and Adrien was in a pair of dark green swim shorts with a white button up hanging totally open. They looked around for the girls. They saw them over by the rest of the class.

Nino took a moment to admire Alya in a simple orange and white swimsuit that was cut high on the thighs. It covered her front completely but showed off a good portion of her back.

Adrien looked at Marinette. Her swimsuit was a solid black suit that had a deep cut in the front on her chest but wasn’t so low that it look like she was showing off. The back showed off her shoulder blades but the rest of her back was covered down to her gracefully curved bottom. It covered more of Marinette than he’d seen on some female models but to him is seemed more alluring then other two piece suits he’s seen.

“Dude, pick your jaw up off the floor. You’re gonna eat sand like that.” Nino nudged him.

“What?”

Nino laughed. “You keep looking at Marinette like that and she’s gonna think you like her.”

Adrien blushed and rubbed one arm, “She likes someone else Nino. She’s, she’s just a friend.”

Nino shook his head. He playfully punched Adrien and gestured him to follow. “Come on, we gotta get to the rest of the class.” Nino had heard about Marinette pretending that she liked someone else to get the card back. He thought the whole thing was silly.

They jogged over to the class and the teacher gave out some papers. “Alright, everyone in groups of two please. You are to answer the questions on the paper. There are samples for you to collect, drawings for you to make and notes for you to take. There are envelopes for you to put your samples in and bottles for the water observations over there. This should take you a couple of hours. After you are done you can have lunch. Then we will meet at 12:30pm for a talk and then your are free until dinner at 4pm. Dinner will be set up over by the changing rooms that were set up for us. This is the first time this type of excursion has been organized by the school so after dinner there will be a short paper survey we would like you to do. Based on the answers of your assignment and the survey we will see if this gets to be an annual thing. Go, be back here by 12:30pm.”

Nino glanced at Adrien and made a ‘wanna be partners’ motion. Adrien nodded. Nino then looked at Alya, “Hey I know we are supposed to be teams of two but you girls wanna hang out with us and the 4 of us work together?”

“Sorry Nino, we girls are going to stick together. We want to make sure our observations are correct.” She gave Adrien a look as she stressed the part ‘observations are correct’, and Adrien wondered what he had done to earn her ire again.

Alya took Marinette by the shoulders and proceeded to the water bottles and envelopes. The boys heard hushed talking but couldn’t make out much until Alya said, ‘I can hold it against him if he’s too dense to see it’ before Marinette made a shushing noise and looked over her shoulder at the guys.

“Nino,” Adrien said with a confused look on his face, “I get the feeling that I’m missing something.” Nino just laughed.

--------

The day went well after that. Every one finished the sheet of work, some with better answers than others. Lunch was enjoyed by all. And sitting through the mini lecture about the importance of ecosystems, using the beach as an example, allowed everyone to have time to let their stomachs settle before going to play in the water. While it wasn’t that hot out it was warm enough to make being at the beach enjoyable.

As he had the past two weeks Adrien covertly watched Marinette. As far as he could tell she still hadn’t asked out the guy since he asked her about it a week ago. He tried to see if she might be interested in anyone here today.

He was finding it very annoying that he still didn’t know who Marinette liked. Half way trough the afternoon he made another trip to his bag so he could feed Plagg.

Plagg looked up from the bag as Adrien gave him another piece of Camembert from a wheel that was being kept in a different bag so the little cat couldn’t scarf it all down in one go. “How’s it going?” Plagg smirked.

Plagg fully knew what was going on now. He had found out Tikki was here and they had a short talk about what their charges were doing. (ie being stupid about the situation.) He found the whole thing hilarious and promised Tikki that he wouldn’t tell Adrien a thing about the card being for him and Marinette just pretending to like another boy to get it back.

“Not good.” Adrien signed and sat on his heels. “I can’t tell who she likes. She hasn’t paid any obvious attention to anyone that I can see. It’s just so annoying.” Adrien raked his fingers through his wet hair.

“Maybe it’s bothering you because you like her and want to date her yourself.” Plagg floated up from the bag to look Adrien in the face.

“Plagg,” Adrien gently pushed him back into the bag. “She’s just a friend. I don’t, I don’t like her like that. I’m just worried that she will get hurt if this unknown guy turns her down badly. Once I know who the guy is, it will be fine.”

“Sure.” The tiny black cat chuckled to himself and finished off the cheese as Adrien ran back to the beach.

#adrinetteapril2019 #ml #adrien x marinette #adrinette april 2019

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maniibear · 8 years ago

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for @ishipallthings -- happy belated birthday, dear! The gift is 84 years late, but I hope you enjoy the stony :)

Word Count: ~5400 Warnings: mention of abuse, non-graphic asthma, a Hamilton reference Summary: StevexTony; Steve has a one-night stand on Sunday, and a job interview on Monday. Guess who is his potential boss’s son?

Six in the morning, and the world is just starting to wake up. Steve’s in the middle of the city, but deep enough into a nicer area that he can only hear traffic from a distance. The local noise is still crickets and sprinklers, and the occasional van rolling in with deliveries to the rich and famous dwelling here in the heart of Manhattan.

Steve’s sure enough he’s not going to get mugged here, and he’s tempted to savor the brightening solitude, but he can also feel the dull scratch of anxiety at the back of his mind. Maybe if it was a Saturday, he could have savored the pleasant ache in his body, given in to the compulsion to smile like a dope and be less concerned about his terrible bed head. If it were a Saturday, he wouldn’t have even gotten out of bed.

But here he is, loitering on the street on a Monday morning, thin frame wrapped in a shirt that was conspicuously missing a few buttons and definitely not fooling the throng of blue collar workers making their way to their employers’ terrifically expensive condos. Steve is just in the process of politely refusing a squished granola bar from the cavernous tote bag of a sweet granny type who speaks little English, but clearly manages to convey that she thinks he’s pillow pet who’s been kicked out before some rich-and-famous’s spouse returned, when he hears the familiar roar of Bucky’s motorcycle. Steve hastily thanks granny, vows to learn a little Vietnamese, and bolts.

He jumps on the back of the bike and hastily taps the side of Bucky’s hip. “Go go go!”

“Aw, runnin’ out on your girlfriend, Stevie?”

“Buck!” Steve grits his teeth desperately.

Bucky just laughs and tosses the spare helmet back.

“So,” he says happily, once Steve is all strapped in and they’re on the way back to their apartment on a less manicured side of town. “This all seems wildly irresponsible.”

Steve woke up to the sound of the radio playing low, like it was meant to be background noise than anything else. A cursory glance showed the bed was empty beside him. Steve shuddered into further wakefulness and picked up on the sound of running water coming from the adjoining bathroom.

Right. He fell back on the bed with a huff, crumpled sheets keeping the bare minimum of his modesty in check, and stared up at the chandelier. The bathroom door opened just then. Steve let his head fall to the side and smiled at a very gorgeous and equally naked Tony. It dawned on Steve that he was enough of an art nerd to look at him paused in the doorway and think of Donatello’s David.

“Hey.”

Tony looked briefly startled, but a smile spread across his face before Steve could think anything about it, and the next thing he knew, Tony took a flying leap and cannonballed into his arms. The sheets tangled further around their winding legs, fingers intertwined, and mouths pressed against each other like they hadn’t spent the last twelve hours together.

Tony tasted like mint and fresh water and his eyes sparkled like the insets in the chandelier above. “Let’s just do this all day,” he suggested. “I’ll order breakfast; whatever you want, from wherever you want.”

That made Steve laugh. He couldn’t help but think that if Tony bottled and sold his apparent ability to make endorphins happen, he’d make a killing. Not that Tony was in any dire need of money; no, judging by how he hadn’t yet let go of Steve, it was pretty obvious what he did need.

And Steve was happy to give it. He ran his hands along slim thighs resting between his own; he kissed Tony’s palm when it brushed his cheek, and god, it was tempting, this offer to roll around in bed all day. Surely, there were some errands he could put off for another weekend. Steve just let his eyes fall shut to try and recall his schedule, and the radio drifted in.

‘You’re listening to NPR and it is Monday 6:15 AM’—what?!

“Fuck!” Steve shot up so fast that he dislodged Tony, who landed beside him with a small ‘oof!’.

“Ow?” he complained, but Steve was too busy grabbing at his phone and staring in shock at a number of missed calls from Bucky, and a text from Sharon wishing him luck on the first day of his new job.

Fuck fuck fuck!

“I have to go,” he wheezed at Tony, who was still sprawled in bed with his chin in his hands as he watched Steve wrestle his clothes on. His eyes weren’t quite so bright anymore.

“Uh-huh.”

“No, I don’t mean…I’m proposing. A lady…” Steve winced at the look on Tony’s face. His brain could handle threading his belt and texting Bucky at once, but clearly drew the line at adding coherent speech. Hitting send on the text begging his best friend to pick him up from his ‘night out’, Steve took a breath.

“Sorry, I meant, I have to make a proposal to someone kind of important today. God, I can’t believe I forgot! It’s been on my calendar for a month.”

“Not the marriage kind, I’m guessing?” Tony asked. Steve wondered if it was normal to be this stupidly pleased that he was smiling again.

“No, just the work kind, I’m afraid.” He swallowed thickly when Tony stretched on the bed, arching ridiculously and then slipping off in a pile of sheets and long limbs.

“Yeah, I have to be somewhere too,” Tony said ruefully. He padded over to Steve, still naked, and poked his chest. “You’re free for dinner, right?”

“You’re telling me that our boy here, who literally would not shut up about this contract with the Stark Foundation, had to be picked up from a one night stand on the first day.”

“Tragic, isn’t it?” Bucky replies.

“I blame you,” says Sam. “Ten PM, and did you know where your best friend was?”

“Did you?”

“Hey, I have a real job. You work from home, Steve’s your responsibility.”

The barstool creaks when Bucky settles on it. “He’s a cry for help.”

Steve spits the last of the toothpaste into the sink and ducks out to glare at his friends. “First of all, neither of you are my parents,” he says, pointing the toothbrush viciously at both of them. “Second of all, how come you two can get along to rag on me, but can’t bother when I...I don’t know, have an important client?”

To their credit, Sam and Bucky exchange a look that might have been apologetic about the whole Prince of Wakanda incident, but it all becomes moot when Sam asks, “So, does that guy like cats or…?”

“Oh my god!” Steve rolls his eyes incredulously and disappears back into the bathroom as Sam doggedly follows up with, “Dude shows up dressed like a cat, Steve; you weren’t even a little curious?”

“Anyway, we still wanna know who kept you out all night when you had a job today.” Bucky sings when he doesn’t answer. “Come on, Stevie, don’t make us hold your portfolio hostage.”

Steve dashes back out, shirt halfway buttoned and a severe look on his face. Sam and Bucky just smile back at him serenely. Not that he should have expected anything else—his friends might be assholes, but they knew better than to mess with his work. They latch on to his relief, though, and loom over the counter like cats that spotted cream.

“I…ah, geeze,” Steve focuses on smoothing his shirt down and hunting for his jacket to combat the blush climbing over his cheeks. “His name’s Tony. He’s well off, I guess…young, though.”

“How young?”

Steve resists the urge to mess up his combed hair with a nervous gesture. “Uh, he was at Triskelion for his twenty-first birthday.”

This time Bucky and Sam exchange another look of high strung exasperation.

“Steve, you’re only twenty five, not ninety, so don’t think you’re cradle robbing or anything.” Bucky says. “Although, I question why a guy who lives in the kinda place I picked you up at is celebrating his day of legal booze at Triskelion.”

He asked Tony as much and Tony just grinned, warm and lush and impossibly attractive in his birthday suit.

“Why were you, uh…?”

“Slummin’ in the city in my fancy heels?” Tony laughed. And how was Steve supposed to resist leaning up to kiss him?

“So,” he murmured against Tony’s lips when they parted. “Were you searching for an urchin, or what?”

Tony exhaled in a long sigh, and pushed him back so Steve’s back hit the impossibly soft mattress again and his palms slid up Tony’s thighs. “You’re a smart guy, Steve, artist extraordinaire,” he said. “I’m sure you don’t think today was really my first time drinking.”

Steve hummed affirmative. He didn’t think too many first timers went for the whiskey.

“This huge deal about my 21st, it’s mostly for the show. I’m sure Dad’s expecting me to head downtown and make the glamour section. Maybe even get locked up.”

“Tony!”

Tony snickered, looked down at Steve like he was adorable. “Relax, I’d get bailed out in an hour, tops, and nobody would talk about it again. Told you it’s just for show.”

If Tony expected Steve to be ok with that explanation, he was wrong. It just made him more protective of this boy he’d only met a couple hours ago. But who was he to tell Tony what was what? Steve stroked heavily down Tony’s thighs, himself warm with drink. “Ok,” he said instead. “So, you’re rebelling against your parents by having a quiet night in?”

“Just my dad,” Tony drawled. “…and…” he slid down Steve’s legs in a sinuous move that made his mouth go dry, and parted his thighs without breaking eye contact. “…I’m hoping I won’t be quiet for long.”

At 9 AM sharp, Steve finds himself sitting on an expensive microfiber couch, draped tastefully with a throw rug. His clothes are neat, his hair is combed, his portfolio is stacked with several excellent examples of why he should lead the branding effort for the newly minted Maria Stark Foundation.

There’s a strange, premonitory quality to the air that Steve chalks up to nerves. Not for the first time this morning, he chides himself for going drinking before the interview. He wants this job, he should have acted like it. But then, a vision of Tony’s firework grin flashes through his mind and Steve can’t bring himself to regret his life choices too much.

Steve absently scratches a bruised spot on his chest, remnant of an ardent hickey, and already thinks about their meeting tonight. He imagines greeting Tony with good news, easily envisions the delighted kiss that would come after.

“I told you!” Tony would say, probably against Steve’s lips because he’d be too impatient to wait until they finished kissing. And Steve would laugh--

“Mr. Rogers?”

The door to the main office stands wide open and a redheaded assistant looks inquiringly over at Steve, who sits up and banishes his decidedly unprofessional train of thought.

“You can go in now,” the assistant says.

There’s a piano in the far corner of the studio and there’s someone playing it. The piece sounds good, albeit halting, as if it were still being practiced. Steve can’t see who, but doesn’t think they should be the focus of his attention anyway. Howard Stark greets him with an air of severity from behind the cherrywood desk.

“The artist,” he says. “Rogers, is it? Stephen?”

“Steve, sir, and yes.”

The melody on the piano hits a sour note and falters.

A frown crosses Howard’s brow. “Unfortunately, Maria couldn’t be here, but she shortlisted you, so you must have something worth a look.” He turns to the piano with a somewhat sardonic curl to his lip. “Anthony, would you like to join us?”

A few more notes tinkle out of the piano before it finally stops. There’s a shuffling noise, and Steve finally turns to cast a look at Anthony--

--and immediately breaks into gooseflesh. Sure, he has on more clothes and his hair is neatly combed back, but Anthony and his talents on the piano are none other than his Tony. Tony, who immediately gives a knowing smile as he crosses over to the desk, and Steve has to quickly school his features before Howard can notice. Speaking of which, how did Tony end up in Howard’s office?

It becomes more obvious when Tony gets closer. Oh please, Steve thinks, don’t let it be--

“My son,” Howard says.

Steve smiles wanly. “Oh.”

Tony bites his lip to keep from laughing.

Tony grinned delightedly and swaggered closer to Steve’s side of the pool table. He raised his eyebrows and made sure Steve was watching before sliding up to sit on the edge and position his pool stick behind him.

There were dollar bills lying on yet another edge-- crumpled 5’s from Steve’s pocket and a tidy 20 from Tony’s. It was the first time Steve had ever taken up a random stranger’s offer of a game, but it wasn’t exactly a hustle. Steve hadn’t been fooled by Tony’s pretend fumbling more than he’d been distracted by how much the guy liked to put on a show, and then by his smile.

They knew each other for less than an hour, but Tony was somewhat of a rubik’s cube, and Steve liked a challenge.

“You’re not going to make it,” he predicted, eyeing the layout of targets on the felt.

Tony cast a disdainful glance. “Yes, I will.

Steve didn’t reply to that; he just made an acquiescing gesture and leaned heavily on his pool stick.

Tony licked his lips, took the shot, and--he didn’t make it. Bafflement looked adorable on him, though, Steve thought before he could stop himself.

“No, my math was right,” Tony slid off the edge and insisted. “I should have gotten the three and four.”

“You factor in how much you drank?”

Tony shot him another look. “Of course, I did.”

And yet, the pockets remained empty. Steve glided over to the table, judged the angles, and positioned his own stick. He took his shot, and both his targets obediently rolled into their goal. “You sure about that?” he asked Tony.

“Well,” Tony stepped into his space. “I might not have factored in how distracting you were.”

Steve could feel the warmth of their proximity and felt warm himself, looking at Tony’s lips. He’d come into Triskelion for a quick drink and a solitary game of pool to calm his nerves about his proposal tomorrow. He was supposed to have left an hour ago and should have been getting ready for a full night’s rest right about now, if not for some trashtalking punk challenging him.

Sadly, said punk was also ridiculously attractive and being near him thrilled Steve. He brushed his hand along Tony’s waist before either of them knew what they were doing. Tony looked startled for a moment, but then exhaled a soft, contented ‘ah’ as his whole body language melted into willingness. Steve could feel his heart jump, but wrapping his arm around Tony’s waist felt as natural as curling his fingers around a paintbrush; so did pulling Tony forward until kissing him was inevitable.

Obviously it never occurred to either of them to be shy. Steve was raring to go by the time Tony said, “You wanna get out of here?”

“Get out of here,” Tony gushes. “These are incredible!”

Pages turn noisily in his hands, but it’s not enough to mask the sound of Steve’s heart beating in his own ears. This feels ridiculously unfair. There’s a part of him that’s quite rightly mortified that the cute young thing that he’d hooked up with last night is his potential boss’s son. Then, there’s another, arguably bigger, part of Steve that watches Tony’s sincere delight in his craft and imagines reaching across the desk to kiss Tony until they were both breathless.

But that’s no way to think about a man’s son in his direct presence.

“Thank you,” Steve says instead, voice skirting a new and apparently razor thin line he’s discovered between giddy affection and gracious professionalism.

Tony glances up and smiles back impishly. Howard pointedly clears his throat.

“Slow down, Anthony,” he advises. “We have a few more candidates to go before we decide--”

“--decide who to get in bed with. I know,” Tony drones long-sufferingly, and Steve quickly disguises a strangled groan behind a cough.

“Exactly,” Howard says in the dry tones of one used to Tony’s behavior for roughly two decades. “Glad to see you enthusiastically involved in the proceedings, for once.”

“Oh, you know me,” Tony lifts his chin to smile at Steve, and takes his time licking the tip of his finger before turning another page. “I see something I like, I have to be hands on.”

Christ. So, this is how it’s going to be.

Steve offers an eulogy for the weeks he’d spent practicing his answers to every professional curveball he might be thrown, because who could have predicted Tony Stark? Who could have predicted that the stranger Steve spent all night bending over various fancy furniture would appear at his interview and start firing off innuendo?

Whoever it was, they should also have known Steve wasn’t the type to back down.

“I’m glad you think so...Anthony,” he replies, dragging each syllable out on his tongue for as long as he dared. “Always happy to meet a fan of my work.”

“Oh, call me Tony,” comes the hurried reply, just before Tony leans casually on the desk and gestures at the illustrations. “And I’m curious: where does all this magic happen?”

“If I’m not working on-site with a client, have a setup at home, where I probably spend too much of my time,” Steve shrugs some of the stiffness from his shoulders and gives a short laugh. “I know you must think being bent over a drafting table for hours is awful, but it’s actually a lot of fun.” He pauses for effect before adding. “I enjoy it, anyway.”

It takes a moment for Tony to find his voice. “Honestly, I can see where you’re coming from,” he says, rougher than before. “So, do you work alone? Or is there someone helping out on that drafting board?”

“Well, they say too many tugs spoil the weave,” answers Steve, knowing full well that nobody ever said that. “I tend to be picky about who I work with, but sometimes--well, it’s entirely possible, you meet someone by chance and you just click.”

Winking flirtatiously might be inappropriate for the setting, but Steve has enough meaningful looks and bashful smiles in his repertoire to slip one under Howard’s radar.

On the other hand, Tony’s lopsided grin doesn’t quite cover the faint red on his cheeks. He casts his eyes down endearingly. “That sounds--”

“Needlessly romantic,” Howard interjects. He directs a sharp look at Tony. “Young Ms. Van Dyne rubbing off on you?”

Tony snickers. “No, I don’t think it’s me Jan wants to--” he trails off when Howard’s expression grows admonishing, and seamlessly rounds on Steve instead.

“Jan’s my friend,” Tony informs him. “But just a friend! Not like my girlfriend or anything. Just so we’re clear.”

“Uh, quite,” Steve nods, telling himself it’s not mollification he feels. Luckily, Howard seems too exasperated by his son to notice Steve’s inner melodrama.

“I think you’ve wasted enough of Rogers’ time today,” he says, and Steve winces when he plucks the samples from Tony’s hands. “Now, if you don’t have real questions, you know where the door is.”

“But I have questions,” Tony insists. Quickly, before Howard can object, he asks, “So, Steve, why do you want to work for the Maria Stark foundation? Besides the perks, the prestige, and the great work we do?”

Steve’s eyebrow twitches. He’s no longer surprised by cheeky questions, but it’s disquieting the way Tony resolutely avoids eye contact with his father. And as for Howard himself, Steve tucks the man’s callousness away in the back of his mind before his objection to it shows on his face.

“For me, it’s the people,” he answers finally. “I first got to know of Mrs. Stark’s work through the hospital charity, when my Ma was admitted.”

Tony lifts his eyes, somber but clearly curious. Howard remains impassive as ever.

“She patched us through to some good treatments; experimental stuff we wouldn’t have known about,” Steve continues. “Ma didn’t make it, but thanks to Mrs. Stark, I know it wasn’t for lack of trying. This is my way of giving back.”

Tony’s lips move. Steve can see them form the familiar ‘I’m sorry’ but Howard gets in first.

“Giving back what exactly?” he asks, even and unimpressed. “You don’t have enterprise clients or global experience.”

“But I have done my homework,” Steve counters smoothly. “The Foundation is still facing a public opinion problem--what with Stark Industries manufacturing weapons and the Foundation seeking to aid war-torn regions. If you turn to page eleven, my proposal to reconcile that is right there.”

For the first time, Howard looks interested. Steve keeps one eye on the elder Stark reading through his proposal and the other on Tony, who no longer seems as enthusiastic as Howard had liked. He scratches the side of his head, fingers carding nervously through black hair and trying hard to be subtle about it.

The urge to clasp that hand and kiss the nerves away makes Steve restless. He curls his palms on the desk, focuses on the cool wood before he does something stupid.

“Not bad,” Howard finally passes his verdict. “Could use a few improvements, but it’ll fool enough folks with deep pockets.”

In spite of himself, Steve feels his professional demeanor slip. Theoretically, he shouldn’t contradict an employer. Then theoretically, an employer shouldn't say shady things, Steve thinks, which dovetails right into him telling Howard, “Sir, I don’t want to fool anyone.”

Casually noting Tony's interest in the face of Howard's vexation, Steve continues, “I just want to show people that war may be a necessary evil, but that it doesn’t absolve us from humanitarianism; that we’re committed to improvement, not conflict.”

“That’s good,” Howard chuckles. “That should convince the hippies on the West Coast. Believe it or not, we still have investors in the Bay who are cagey about giving us money all because we’re in the weapons business.”

Tony sits up, features growing tight and resolute. “But SI makes more than enough profit to cover that gap.”

Howard’s expression grows abruptly thunderous. “You’re out of your goddamn mind,” he retorts harshly, and Steve starts in surprise.

What he’d assumed was normal tension between a straightlaced father and an incorrigible son gets quickly shadowed by the flash of real fear in Tony’s eyes. It isn’t there for long. Tony schools his features in seconds, relaxing back into a marvelous, calculated insolence, but Steve is hard pressed to be fooled.

“We’re not Santa Claus, to be out saving the whole world,” Howard continues. “Even a charitable foundation needs good business sense before it needs blind optimism, or do you think your mother’s bleeding heart is enough to keep the lights on? ”

Tony grows steely. “Look, I just meant--”

“Meant,” Howard echoes derisively. “I’ve told you once, I told you a hundred times, Anthony: what you meant doesn’t count for shit.”

“Sir, that’s enough.” Steve keeps his voice deliberately low, but it’s enough to stun both Starks into pin drop silence.

Howard looks predictably incensed at being challenged. Tony mostly looks surprised. Surprised, and grateful in a way that strikingly reminds Steve of his own youth--of boys twice his size, of blood flowing from his split lip or broken nose, of the first time Bucky extended a hand to lift him off the ground and Steve had stared at it like a goddamn miracle. It’s that same look in Tony’s eyes which makes him throw diplomacy out the window.

“I spent weeks preparing for this interview,” Steve gets in before Howard can rebuke him. “Everyone who knows me knows how I bad I wanted this job, and it’s not because I want to create press releases for profit, but because I want everyone to know Mrs. Stark’s work when they see it.”

Steve begins gathering up his samples, not-so-accidentally brushing Tony’s fingertips with his own. “But I won’t work with bullies, no matter the business sense.”

Howard contemptuously pushes the portfolio away. “I’d watch my tone, if I were you.”

“Well, sir, you’re not me,” Steve counters caustically, and snaps his binder shut. Standing up, he doesn’t have much of a height advantage, but a withering look taken from the best of Peggy’s repertoire works just as well. “But let me know when you catch up.”

Howard grows livid. “Get out!”

They couldn’t stop kissing. Neither of them were terribly patient, it appeared, and Tony’s excited chatter might have kept them from sullying the cab on their ride over to the nicest building Steve had ever seen, but all bets were off once the elevator closed.

They stumbled into Tony’s apartment, still attached at the lips. Steve had enough wits about him to observe that it was a studio, but one that probably cost more than most folks’ entire houses. The bed in the corner looked like a literal mound of heaven, but if Tony’s hands didn’t stop wandering, they weren’t going to make it.

Steve gasped when they ran roughly over his chest and plowed through to his shoulders so Tony could mumble ‘Off!’ while relieving Steve of his coat. The garment slipped off to pool at their feet and Tony inhaled sharply.

Suddenly holding Steve at arm’s length, he tilted his head and drunkenly declared. “You’re tiny!”

Steve instinctively flinched, but before he could draw away, Tony swooped in for what he’d later dub the hug-and-fly technique and try to accost Steve with it at least thrice before the night was over.

“Hey, careful!” Steve yelped as soon as he got over the shock of being picked up and whirled around like a Disney princess. “My jacket—Tonyyyy!”

Tony giggled dizzily and leaned up for another messy kiss. “I’ll buy you another.”

“Not in time, you won’t,” Steve squirmed until Tony unlocked his hands and put him down. “My inhaler’s in there.”

“Oh,” Tony moaned more than spoke, then his eyes flew open and he scurried a few steps back from Steve’s reaching fingers. “Uh, are you going to be ok?”

“I’ll be fine,” Steve replied, moving his poor, vulnerable jacket to safer ground. “It’s just for emergencies. Trust me, it takes a lot for me to lose my breath these days.”

“Oh?” Tony casually grabbed the collar of his own t-shirt and pulled the whole thing off in one fluid motion so he was both, exposed and artfully disheveled.

Steve’s breath caught instantly and very audibly.

“You were saying…?” Tony teased, eyes glimmering.

Steve swallowed. “Well, there are exceptions.”

Steve barely makes it out of Stark Industries imposing headquarters before a familiar tightness in his chest fairly warns him to take a break. Even so, he stubbornly marches to the farthest end of the building block before seeking refuge in an empty bus shelter. Because why give Howard the satisfaction of seeing him keel over from an asthma attack on Stark property when a narrow bench and an illuminated ad for Vibranium brand condoms would do just fine?

Once there, Steve lets his portfolio slide to the ground and shoves one hand into his pocket to feel for his inhaler. When it comes up empty, he sternly wills himself not to panic. Panicking only made things worse, but it becomes hard to remain calm when the other pocket is also empty and he can’t even remember if he’d bought along a spare—

“Hey!” a familiar voice calls out.

Tony barrels into the bus shelter just in time to see Steve’s best impression of a goldfish out of water. Luckily, he’s also brandishing Steve’s rescue inhaler.

“I thought it was you,” Tony looks triumphant. “You left this behind and I remembered you…Jesus, Steve!”

The gist of what Steve remembers after is the familiar woodsy smell of Tony’s expensive cologne, a litany of anxious concern, and some awkward mishaps of someone new to dealing with medical emergencies. Happily, it ends with Tony shoving the uncapped inhaler between Steve’s shaking fingers and guiding it to his lips.

Moments later, Steve counts his breaths while Tony settles down on the bench beside him to rub his back, unasked. Warmth blooms over his spine in slow circles, moves up to his shoulders, and drapes pleasantly over the nape of his neck. Ultimately, however, it’s knowing that Tony is there, safe, beside him that unravels the tightness in Steve’s chest until it’s a distant memory.

Steve shivers when Tony turns and kisses his shoulder. For a moment, everything feels right with the world. Like most good things, it’s fleeting.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says roughly. A moment passes, not awkward, but light with gladness at being together again. “I didn’t want to leave you there.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause you missed the look on Howard’s face,” Tony counters mildly, then chuckles. “Back when you were all ‘But let me know when you catch up’...” He raises his chin and brassily snaps his fingers in cartoonish imitation of Steve telling off his father. “I thought he was going to burst a vein, and then you marched, marched, out that door like James fucking Bond?!”

“You,” Tony breathes wondrously, eyes twinkling as he points leisurely nudges Steve with his shoulder. “are a badass, Steve the artist. And, I’m just gonna come out and say it: that was the most awesome thing anyone’s done for me.”

Steve tries and fails to match Tony’s earnest smile. The disquiet he felt in Howard’s office lingers still, even as he clasps Tony's hand hovering on his chest. Steve focuses on the pliable warmth of it, on the delicate bones and rough callouses, because if he doesn’t, he’ll get angry all over again.

“I don’t mean to make things difficult,” he starts.

“Difficult?” Tony echoes, with a frown that only grows more curious when Steve cups the side of his face.

“Tony, are you...I’m just…” Steve falters, unsure, and frustrated with himself for it. How do you ask someone if their parent was the hitting kind? In the end, he decides on plain words. Tony is too important to him to dance around this subject. “Is he going to hurt you?”

Tony’s eyes lift in surprise, then grow affectionately soft. He leans forward to brush his lips against Steve’s and says, "No, he won’t. I mean, I won’t lie—he’s pissed off after being yelled at by what he considers ‘the help’,” Once again, Tony teeters on the verge of laughter before growing sober. “But he’s not gonna hit me."

It doesn’t put all of Steve’s monumental worries to rest, but it’s something. Scooting closer on the bench, he pulls Tony into a hug and unhappily rests his chin on soft, dark hair. He also tightens his arms, squeezing Tony tightly as if to say: if you need me, I’ll be there.

For his part, Tony sidles up contentedly, his breath whooshing warmly along Steve’s collarbones. The sound of his organic circuitry blends with the white noise of the city at midmorning, and with each moment that passes, Steve only grows more unwilling to part.

“Keep your phone on,” Tony mumbles eventually. “Mom gets final say anyway, and I know she’ll want you.”

Steve finds himself smiling at how comfortable ‘Mom’ sounds on Tony’s tongue. “You sound so sure.”

Tony pulls away slightly, and looks up at Steve with mild reproach. “You saying I don’t know my own mother, Rogers?”

Steve taps a kiss on his forehead. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Hmph,” Tony rolls his eyes, but slips back into their embrace.

“Still on for dinner?” Steve asks after they’ve luxuriated in each other for a few moments more. “I could use someone to celebrate my new job with.”

Tony nods. “Wear something nice,” he says. “Something form fitting. I want to try our—shh, too late, it’s our move now—hug-and-fly again.”

Steve sighs.

#stony #superhusbands #stevetony #ishipallthings #my writing #bymani

103 notes · View notes

gyeolsim · 8 years ago

Text

nickatnightwalker hey can you clear something up for me real quick bud

gyeolsim ?

nickatnightwalker yeah not sure if there's a polite way to ask this and actually i already did but that was when i was under the impression that you were just a really shiny weirdo but are you like, quite sure you dont eat people. like is the mac and cheese a you thing or a species wide thing

gyeolsim you probably won't meet any sirens in your life other than me mind your own business

nickatnightwalker oh my god

nickatnightwalker ok well that's cool i guess

gyeolsim have you considered it might be rude to tell people your species eats them

nickatnightwalker i personally feel like manners are secondary in this case

gyeolsim if someone is planning to it'd be stupid to tell you if someone won't it'd be pointless to tell you

nickatnightwalker listen i know ignorance is bliss but put yourself in my shoes for half a sec

nickatnightwalker would you really rather not know

gyeolsim i think it's kinda taking over you

nickatnightwalker what

gyeolsim worrying over who could hypothetically get you the answer is everyone can even a human with a well sharpened pencil it's who wants to that matters

nickatnightwalker you're killing me here misha not literally it's a turn of phrase

nickatnightwalker anyway whether or not someone wants to get me is a moot point next to the bigger question of who's biologically wired to want to get me

gyeolsim just because some people are doesn't mean that they will no one here is straight up an animal instinct doesn't override intentions

nickatnightwalker you know, you say that but boys will still argue with you i dont expect much more from the ones here

gyeolsim fair but most of my friends here if not all of them

gyeolsim even me we all could kill you some of us are wired to you can't judge a person over that

nickatnightwalker who said im passing judgment? i wanna know who i need to keep an eye on if theyre having a particularly low-self control day

gyeolsim that's up to us to deal with

nickatnightwalker if you slip up, it's still people like me who are gonna suffer

gyeolsim i don't know what else to do here we're all stuck together

nickatnightwalker hey, i just want a heads up

gyeolsim this is why ethics was in moire's list

nickatnightwalker look, i dont think youre going to eat me, misha mostly because you clearly had your window and didnt

gyeolsim thanks that's nice of you

nickatnightwalker i dont know what you want to hear man im in a brave new world and i wanna know the rules

gyeolsim nothing i'm just telling you i guess i'm trying to help

gyeolsim like i said it hasn't happened. not since i got here as far as i know and i think that's the kind of thing people would hear about you got the whole privacy and security intro right explaining the security hooded figures and shit that's gotta count for something you can't just stay afraid

nickatnightwalker there were metal detectors at my old school and it didn't stop kids from bringing knives

nickatnightwalker im not afraid i just need to know what to look for

gyeolsim what are we supposed to do walk around with a tag don't come near me my mother crashes ships and eats the sailors real welcoming

nickatnightwalker well fuck there goes my ship listen you have the advantage of knowing who is what and how they work not all of us get born right into that, yeah?

gyeolsim that's where you're wrong lmao

nickatnightwalker what, about my ship?

gyeolsim you think just because i'm not human i magically know how everyone else works i don't know shit fuck you for thinking i know shit why do you think we're fed up with how the school's been handling our education

nickatnightwalker good sentiment but fuck you, at least you were born knowing magic exists

gyeolsim one type

nickatnightwalker nah i dont buy it your parents didnt talk to you ?

gyeolsim i don't have to tell you my life story

nickatnightwalker give it a rest, im not interested in your secrets misha im telling you i went my whole life thinking that at /least/ i was safe from people literally consuming me as a main source of sustenance and im trying to catch up on 17 years of being in the dark

gyeolsim oh yeah good luck with that the ride never stops i just found out my species eats yours and my best friend's eats mine good luck

nickatnightwalker oh well that's some balls

nickatnightwalker maybe keep an eye on her folks when she talks you to meet em *takes

gyeolsim well yeah but that's not her whatever they gave us we choose what to do with it

nickatnightwalker yeah i mean i get that, i know that but not everybody's like good so i want to know who COULD

gyeolsim again it's probably better to keep an eye on who would

nickatnightwalker to know who would i have to know who could first

gyeolsim i mean sure but like i said a human with a sharp pencil is basically the same

nickatnightwalker ok this is what i feel like youre not getting a human with a sharp pencil isn't darwin's theory of evolution'd into wanting to eat me a human with a sharp pencil is just a fuckign dick

gyeolsim right okay

gyeolsim i get it

nickatnightwalker im not worried about the people i know im worried about all the people i dont

gyeolsim what if you miss out though

nickatnightwalker im talking to you, arent i?

gyeolsim well yeah you didn't know about me before though hell i didn't know about me

nickatnightwalker oh well shit surprise

nickatnightwalker somewhere a therapist hears a cash register ching

gyeolsim back at ya

nickatnightwalker ok thats fair

nickatnightwalker but hey i dont know if someone how you managed to disconnect yourself entirely from the gossip loop but word on the street is im in pretty good with mankind's most pompous predator

gyeolsim haha what

nickatnightwalker im friends with a vampire

gyeolsim good for you

nickatnightwalker two actually karims a fuckin blast point is they eat humans

nickatnightwalker you with me so far

gyeolsim yeah i get it your sister already called me dumb get new jokes

nickatnightwalker my who oh whatever what im saying is they eat people and it's not even a choice, like baldy mcbowlingballhead over there who seems to just wanna pick up babies like a delicacy they HAVE to and i know that

gyeolsim reagan doesn't mean it

gyeolsim i don't think so anyway

nickatnightwalker i take nothing for granted in this place point is they DONT have a choice but to eat people, so it's not even dickish, just unfortunate and sure, i know about 16 ways to banish damian to the netherworld but we're still friends i just lke being prepared

gyeolsim aight i get it

nickatnightwalker dont take it personally but i already googled how to keep a siren from eating you

gyeolsim don't take it personally but whatever you found it 's probably bullshit

nickatnightwalker yeah, i know i can probably get you to fuck off just by flirting with you so im not actually that worried

gyeolsim and i can get you to fuck off by punching you in the face so

nickatnightwalker that would work and id still prefer that to death by integration into fancy mac n cheese

gyeolsim oh gross

nickatnightwalker yeah, you see? punch is definitely preferable

gyeolsim how about we're just civil to each other

nickatnightwalker damn, i thought we were at least at pleasant acquaintance

gyeolsim don't push it and hey

nickatnightwalker sup

gyeolsim it's gonna be alright

nickatnightwalker that's really what im trying to make sure of

gyeolsim me too that's what i'm fighting for it can only go uphill from here

nickatnightwalker honestly im feeling pretty optimistic? since apparently ive met and interacted with a pretty decent handful of people who are more used to seeing me on a supermarket shelf than talking and yet not a single one of you has tried to kill me yet except that kindergartener

gyeolsim haha yeah monsters & me is a rough intro to the school

nickatnightwalker children are monsters no matter what species they are it's like open season in there, everyone vs everyone else constantly

gyeolsim simpler times

nickatnightwalker not necessarily better i feel

gyeolsim nah but i got used to it hopefully you won't have to

nickatnightwalker why wouldnt i have to? im here, arent i?

gyeolsim if the dean gets wollstonecraft's shit together at least in the school you won't something tells me you won't want to go hang out with the supernatural community once you're outta here

nickatnightwalker i might not have much of a choice

nickatnightwalker it seems like a good amount of the supernatural community hangs out with humans anyway

gyeolsim yeah

gyeolsim but you wouldn't have known that if you hadn't come here

nickatnightwalker ignorance isnt bliss ignorance is getting mugged or murdered or eaten or worse besides, the people here are growing on me anyway

gyeolsim dangerous you might make a friend

nickatnightwalker that's horrifying and disgusting please im not that kind of guy

gyeolsim duly noted

nickatnightwalker thank you for respecting my aplatonic boundaries

gyeolsim uh no problem dude

nickatnightwalker that was a joke

gyeolsim not sure what aplatonic means

nickatnightwalker you know how sponges reproduce asexually like, more sponges with no sex it's like that except with friends, but only assholes and dumbasses say that so

gyeolsim i don't like where this is going oh

nickatnightwalker where did you think it was going

gyeolsim somewhere that ends with my fist in your face

nickatnightwalker you cant reach me from wherever you are nice try

gyeolsim i know where you live

nickatnightwalker oh fuck fuck that's true whatever you cant get through my 800 locks good LUCK

gyeolsim i could knock

nickatnightwalker so what? there's a peephole

nickatnightwalker and you already told me youre coming to punch me

gyeolsim i'm not really it was a warning

nickatnightwalker have i really done anything to deserve getting punched yet so far this year

gyeolsim you talk a lot

nickatnightwalker you got me there im entertaining though, or you WOULD have actually punched me

gyeolsim i can't reach you wherever you are you don't actually know

nickatnightwalker you would have sometime in the past week im sure

gyeolsim i did refuse to talk to you but you're insistent

nickatnightwalker no im not i never made you talk

gyeolsims sent

nickatnightwalker welp there we go i guess

gyeolsim haha just kidding

#IM #nickatnightwalker

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