Sara Louise Adrien

A 125-post collection

Challenge #01268-C173: Don't Make Her Angry

Sara Louise Adrian gate-crashes group of wanna-be Queen Bees. Chaos ensues. Sara can be any age.-- KnitNan

Dangerous things happened when Sara got bored. At the moment, according to her mother, she was 'between schools' and 'trying to find her place in life'.

She could hear them from the top of the stairs. All that ego and no real audience. The younger voices thought that they were the absolute best that humanity had to offer. And her mother was agreeing with them, trying to gain their favour. Which meant that they were from the next two steps up the social ladder, at least.

And from the general thrust of the conversation, Sara could guess that Mother was trying to help them to comport themselves like Proper Ladies. Jaquelline was trying to tell them that their current means of becoming popular was not the good way.

Sara returned to her computer and brought up their Facebook pages. Then their Twitter accounts. Then their Pintrest.

Yikes. Even though they were fairly high up on the social scale, they were aiming to become famous by providing soft porn for the entire world. Even if Sara showed the maximum amount of skin, she would never get that many notes. Or likes. Or whatever.

Sara next image-searched the darker parts of the web to see where these ladies' pictures were shared. Double yikes.

It didn't take much technical prowess to paste these girls' faces on to porn star bodies.

Sara crept down the stairs and entered their sanctuary. Of course Mother was holding her lessons in the Pink Room. Where Most of Sara's most recent accomplishments were "too strange" to join the altar of faded glory.

"Oh grooooossss..." said one of them, performing a perfect sneer. "You're that kid's mom?"

Of course, certain circles had become to know Sara as 'that kid'. That kid, who pulled fantastic stunts to get kicked out of school. That kid, who was always up to something weird. That kid, who somehow managed to know everyone's full names, and was prepared to use them.

Sara could gauge by all their sneering that they hadn't learned to be afraid of her weirdness, yet. They probably might, eventually, but they seemed like really slow learners.

"Mother," she said. "You aren't getting through to them, so I thought I might help. Can I use the television, please?"

The sneers converted to eye-rolls and giggles. None of these girls had reached their fifteenth year, and yet they all had breasts. And weren't afraid to use them.

They would be.

Mother had a similar eye-roll. "Is this going to be one of your moral cartoons?" Translation: am I about to be embarrassed in front of these nice people?

Sara bit down hard on yet another lecture on the difference between parody and documentary. Instead of launching that, she said, "No, Mother. This is all about these ladies. It's... something of a tribute. To their amazing skills on the social networks."

The sneers stopped cold. Expressions wavering between surprise and delight began to bloom on their painted faces. "Let her show us, Mrs Adrien. I'd love to see what your little girl can do."

Sara could feel her mother attempting to find the politest way to say, No you wouldn't. So she took over the television while the four young ladies were busily pleading to see it. Sara smirked the instant they couldn't see her face. Appealing to vainglory had to be the easiest bait in town.

The screen lit up. There was a montage of some of their least-risque vanity shots. Music played over the images as they became increasingly daring.

Sara stepped out of their view. The young ladies were riveted by their own beauty. One was pinkie-applauding.

The words, What happens after they "like" you? appeared after the screen and the music changed to Hall of the Mountain King.

Sara knew it was a deluge of straight-up pornography, and the comments from the sites stayed up longer, so they could read them.

Nobody was smiling now. Least of all Mother, who had been trying to educate these ladies in a manner by which they would easily ignore her. They couldn't nod and smile at this. They couldn't ignore this.

"I'm deleting my accounts," said one of them, after the screen went blank.

"Yes, you could do that," said Sara, "But they still have all the pictures you posted. And all the pictures they've made. And all of the pictures their friends have made. They have enough of your facial expressions to animate your head on anyone else's body for a movie, if they have the time and the inclination. They can make money off of all of that for quite some time. Anything you share with the internet can last forever."

Now there was a wailing and a gnashing of teeth. Now there was a hue and cry. Now there was regret.

"I could still help you," Sara offered. "I can attach a Trojan virus to -say- a new picture of two of you kissing. Not only will it send all the porn they have to the nearest authorities, but it will send information about the entire family, deduce the most likely suspects, and if they try to delete any evidence? It will distribute their picture across the internet with a full confession about how much of a pedophile they are."

" dough... file?" echoed one of the young ladies.

"People who want to have sex with someone before that someone reaches the age of consent," said Sara. "Kiddie fiddlers. While you all haven't done anything... overt... the people who made those pictures are guilty of distributing child pornography. And I," she smiled like the Devil, "want to burn them. For a little extra, I can make the Trojan trash any website it's posted on."

"I knew you were going to bring money into this," snapped Mother.

"Oh, you mistake me, Mother. I meant... a little extra for you. Surely all these ladies and their families can... help you, somehow? Perhaps, recommend a few places, here and there? Help you meet the right people? Just a display of gratitude. That's all."

It was the biggest Pedophile bust in history. And it went nationwide. Shortly before it went global. Even some news stations credited the hacker known only as Miss Mytzlplk, who came and went like a shooting star.

The FBI wanted to find Miss Mytzlplk, aka Sara Louise Adrien, but that was not really anything new. She was used to it.

(Muse food remaining: 20. Submit a Prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories! Or comment below!)

Challenge #00895-B164: The Old Heart-Stopper

There is coffee, there is turkish coffee, there is paper-due-in-six-hours was-coffee-once, and then there is whatever you just made and drank.

Grace watched Sara cautiously as more and more ingredients kept
coming out of random storage places. Turkish Coffee steeped in its
special apparatus. Espresso poured out of the little budget coffee maker
that pushed hot water through little capsules, and it did so on a near steady stream. The finished cups of steaming liquid went into a cooking
pot that already

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Challenge #00886-B155: Unexpected Bastion of Safety

“Deportment and propriety in High Society 101” at Lady Favisham’s, a mandatory course for young ladies.

(AKA “How to break a man’s wrist without letting go of your fan”)

“Men,” began Mistress Carlysle. She said the word as though it were an epithet. “They own the world. They run the world. The spend their lives believing that whatever they see… they own. They believe they have the right to help themselves. And it is up to us… It

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Challenge #00323: But is it Art?

Toad has come along to one of Sara, Scott or anyone else’s art showings, and in this circle, his mannerisms seem to have accidentally passed him off as an expert or art critic. He’s having fun, and the artist is not sure whether to laugh at how the rich folk are swallowing all of it and buying the work, or cry at how wrong he is about certain bits.

It was one of Sara’s ‘sideshow&

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Have you ever read Seanan McGuire's work? It seems up your alley. Also, I would really be curious to see what happened if Sarah Adrien met...

[AN: Hooray. More reading list. I’m still ploughing through Allomancy on a paragraph-a-day basis]


Sarah thought she was done for, this time. The Criptid creature had been inches away from having her head for a snack. But then, something invisible turned the tables in a more permanent eye-for-an-eye fashion by literally bashing its head off with a big stick.

Sarah recovered her weapon and dealt with the last few stragglers.

The invisible thing faded into view.

“All bad guys

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If you have ever read Adam Warren's Empowered series (the titular character reminds me of Sara actually sometimes), Sara Adrien meets Megan...

[AN: I had to do some research to get the basics on this one. Feel free to flame me when I get it wrong]


Emp tried not to sob. This was the fifty-umpth time she’d been hog-tied and thrown into a dank, dark dungeon. Or similarly dungeonesque oubliette to keep her out of the way while the Vil’s did whatever Vil’s usually did during their cunning plans.

Someone else was in here with her.

[The following dialogue has

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Challenge #00195: Beat the Beat

Vimes and Sara met once in a previous post. They meet again, but this time either Sara’s let loose in Ankh Morpork, or Vimes has to cope with Bayville.

“Tolstoy Beattitude Walkingbird!”

“I didn’t do it!”

Consciousness returned like a cat that had been up to something. Creeping in sense by sense and trying to hide behind the couch with its metaphorical tail sticking out.

Nobody was checking out his boots. Nobody was going

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(hearkening back to the days of the Nutboard here a bit) - In-a lab in Stark Tower, with-a caffeinated Tony Stark and Sara Adrien, while-a...


“…and the shoulder sprocket connecka to the—” Tony sang.

“KNEE BONE,” sang Sara.

“WHAT THE FLYING HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?” an exasperated Pepper bellowed.

“Came as soon as I could, yo,” said Todd. “You know ‘bout Red Bull, yeah?“

"Oh, we knew about Red Bull,” said Pepper. She was looking a lot manic. “Not a drop of it in the place. Sara ‘tweaked’ the espresso machine so it could

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Why Red Bull is banned in Bayville.


“So… this is happening,” said the police chief. “WHY is it happening?“

"I don’t know, sir,” said her immediate underling. “I just know it’s continuing to happen…" The swirling patterns of ink on his skin became the repeated word TRUTH.

Many a near-riot had begun because of the quasi-cogniscent ink that had spread like a virus over the skins of all citizens of Bayville. Many men were very upset to find themselves indelibly

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Challenge #00172: One Fine Afternoon in the Halls of Higher Education

“When I said that it was nice that you could recite the same dirty limerick in 5 different languages and have it rhyme, I was not asking for a demonstration.”

“Aaaw… but I’m almost up to Pharsi. Do you know how hard it is to rhyme ‘Calcutta’ in Pharsi?”

“No, and I don’t particularly care. We’re supposed to be working on theoretical math, not filthy poetry.”



“But this isn’t as much fun.”

“Ai! Focus.”

Sara pouted.

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