#i assure you. no i dont know where the left suit design is going.
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I forgor to eat and i shut off my brain to draw bruce. smiles.
#bruce wayne#batman#dc#catman's art#i assure you. no i dont know where the left suit design is going.#ok bye im going to eat n rest my neck
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Pink Chains
Pt 8. Ending
Kyotani owns a grunge /punk apparel shop after leaving the Sendai Frogs after a incident with the Black Jackals. He designs his own clothes and hires Oikawa & Iwaizumi as his employees. Everything goes smoothly for awhile, till you walk in; pink dress, big smile , and bubbly personality. His whole life stops in that moment.
Nsfw. Virgin reader. Vanilla
Tags. @galagcica @haikyuu-but-low-iq @kozushiki @mocha-babes @kayisweird @lunebabie @zopzoop @derpeedoo
You were sitting on Kyos lap facing him holding his cheeks kissing him all over his face. Kyo had his hands on your rear trying his best not to tug at your panties and just kiss you . He was still thinking about what happened earlier , and you could tell. His kissing was getting sloppy .
You pulled away to sit on his fingers and lap giving him a shy pouty look. “Kyo…”
“Im sorry sweetie.. its just.”
You kissed him on the lips. “Just nothing. Wanna feel good… wanna feel good with Kyo..”
He sighed kissing you back giving you the ‘ok’. You could feel his fingers along your slit travelign up and down lightly in slow strokes. He chuckled at the little whimpers you made no matter how hard you tried to hide them from him.
“Can i have my hand back sweetie?”
“No..”
He smiled, kissing you again and again while his fingers worked on getting you wet for him. You leaned into him sighing lightly at the feeling, holding his sleeve, kissing it and rubbing against his fingers whining every time they slipped over your clit. Kyo kissed at your neck pulling you closer to him.
“Sweetie.. Lift up for a second”
You held him tight moving up so he could help you out of your panties and sit you on his lap again. You just had his old jersey on now but he quickly got rid of that too, tossing it with the other garments.
“K-kyo.”
“My pretty girl” he pulled you to him, slipping another hand under you again to slip a finger in you just to be stopped short. “Sweetie? Are you a virgin?”
“Yes i uhm..i still want to , just be gentle please..”
Kyotani did not know how to process this for a minute, every girl who threw themselves at him was always some slut. He's never been asked to take it slow before. “Okay sweetie, if at any point you wanna stop, tell me.” he kissed you and slipped another finger in you. The rings hit your flesh creating goosebumps.
You squeezed him tight getting used to the new feeling, eventually he got you to slowly grind against his fingers and helped you reach your first orgasm helping you through it. You pawed at his lap watching his erection get bigger each time.
“ i think.. Im ready”
“Your sure?” he asked , removing his fingers from you to see your juices dripping off of them. He bit his lip and before he could say anything you were taking his erection out and rubbing it.
“Swee!!..-”
You leaned into him giving him big eyes. “Im sure Kyo..”
He kissed you as he gripped your rear lifting you up. “Okay sweetie. Tell me if you want to stop okay?”
“I will Kyo..”
Kyotnai had nails dug into his sleeves while he lowered you down on him. He was hurting you , he stopped a couple times to ask if you were okay and you always nodded between shaking breaths assuring him you were fine and to keep going. It took him a few minutes to sit you back down on his lap. You cried when he broke through. Biting his shoulder drawing blood. He held your body close coaching you through it just like he did for the tattoo. It helped.. It really really helped.
It started out with you on his lap and ended with you on his bed and Kyo on top of you finishing on your stomach. He squeezed you panting hard trying not to put his weight on you too much. You giggled kissing his head and he laughed too. He never wanted to leave you, not ever.
Kyo helped you clean up and asked if he could get you anything to help make you more comfortable. You jokingly asked for a stuffed animal expecting him to not have one but he did in fact have one. A old wolf plush and a Sendai Frogs plush he pulled outta his closet. Kyotani helped you get dressed in his boxers and one of his shirts before putting you to bed. He kissed your head watching you drift off.
“Night sweetie”
“Night kyo..”
Kyotani left to get dressed and to throw your clothes in the wash. He sat on the dryer just listening to the washer for a minute. So much has happened over a few days for him. Multiple times he thought he was going to lose you , he still had no idea how you stayed with him. He was grateful to have you, grateful Yahaba made up with him, grateful his business was working and was hopeful for the future. He returned to you soon after the clothes finished to place them next to the bed, he got in behind you wrapping his arms around you trying to fall asleep. He was not looking forward to the morning,
*
You woke up first because of your alarm and the sound of excited dogs. Your body was sore but you did not mind too much. Kyo squeezed you in his sleep and you giggled kissing his arm all over.
“Kyooo…gotta get up..”
“Skip sweetie..” he nuzzled his face into your neck sighing heavy
“I gotta.. Draw my entry for the Gallery though, and what will i do if i skip?”
“Hang out at my job with me of course. “ he teased nipping your neck.
You sighed turning over and kissed his chest.
“What gallery?”
“My school is participating in this gallery at the local art building in town. My teacher asked if i would join in, im hoping.. I get picked up.”
“Picked up?” he asked you, moving your hair from your face.
“I want to graduate with a job already lined up, im hoping someone will like my designs enough to want to partner with me to sell them on clothes.” you nuzzled into his chest. “But im nervous too cuz.. Business people just see money”
“Where is this gallery again Sweetie?”
“Up the street from Mattsuns shop” you rubbed your eyes and Kyo got a grin on his face.
“Can i come?”
“Of course!” you hugged him tight and he kissed your head.
“Dress code?”
“I think so but.. I dont think its mandatory”
Ho ho ho…
Your phone buzzed again and you whined loud. “Kyoooo let em up…”
He just laid down on top of you . “five more minutes”
*
You played with the dogs for a bit petting each one and giving them kisses on the nose, you even shared your breakfast with them when Iwaizumi was not looking. Kyo had washed your clothes but you wanted to wear his, the pants were too long so you made them into shorts and picked out a random band tee you tied under your chest and found your shoes in the living room. God you were so cute in hi clothes what the fuck.
He couldn't stay long though. Kyotani was greeted with several texts and calls from Yahaba ordering him to get to his place immediately. He gave you a kiss and promised he would be at the show for you and left. Iwaizumi brought you to school and he left for work to see Oikawa had opened with no problems.
Kyotani made it too Yahabas house to be greeted by him in the door, arms folded and foot tapping. Kyotani rolled his eyes, noticing the extra car parked out front. Bokuto was already here. He walked into the house past Yahaba to see Bokuoto sitting at the table trying not to look at Kyotani. He sat down across from him and Yahaba met in the middle between them.
“So explain… what happened.” he said, rubbing the irritation in his face.
“Well., i was out getting somethings and i saw Mad Dog, and i just i dont know. Got upset, all i could think about what the Tourney and the accident.” Bokuto rubbed his eyes and ran hid hands through his hair. “I hit him first Yahaba”
“And you?” Yahaba looked over to Kyo.
“I hit him back” he took in a deep breath sitting back in the chair to rub his sleeve.
Yahaba rubbed between his eyes. “At least no one saw it…”
“y/n was with me”
“.....what?”
“Its true…” Bokuto added
“SO YOU JUST FOUGHT IN FRONT OF HER!”
“I almost punched her Yahab jesus christ, i still feel awful about it”
“She stayed with you?”
“Yes, she did, i dont know how but can we please fix this . i need to go to work and catch y/n’s art show”
“Is she okay Kyotani”
“She is now.” he looked away rubbIng his head. “I fucking hate myself.”
“Kyotani…” Bokuto said. “Im sorry, i let my emotions get the better of me and i should have more control than that. Akaashi gave me one hell of a lecture when i got home. I don't want to fight again.”
“I dont either”
Yahaba was still hung up on you putting yourself between these two and coming out without a scratch. Fuck you really were special.
“So can we agree to move on.” he finally asked them.
“Yes”
“Mhm”
“Good. shake hands and get out of my house.”
The two got up shaking hands and they both felt a wave of relief wash over them. Finally.
*
Back at the college everyone was eyeing your outfit but you did not give one fuck. Yuki and Kii paid you no mind and you spent most of the day in the art room with a towel of crumbled up sketches in a trash bag neck to you. Why was this so hard? You signed in to your arm looking at the empty canvas, lightly tracing over your red panda tattoo.
“Mmm……”You traced some more getting an idea. It was different, new, and stood out. Two opposites.
At The Dog House Kyotani had finally gotten there to see Oikawa running the front and Iwaizumi putting clothes out. He told them everything was fine now and about the gallery show you were in. both men were excited to go and Kyo even texted Mattsun about it.
“Are you gonna wear a suit for once ?” Kawa asked Kyo
“Uhm no, no im not.”
“Why not!!!”
“Because i want to stand out when i tell y/n i want her to partner with me at the shop”
Iwaizumi and Oikawa both got very big smiles and Kyo rolled his eyes, he couldn't help but smile too . he was so ready for tonight, to see your face and your reaction. He was going to tell you he loved you too.
*
It was time for the Gallery and you were already inside setting up your space. You had to change clothes and put on a black dress with boots. Kyotanis clothes neatly tucked away in your bag. You were so happy with the finished sketch you loved it so much, you hoped Kyo did too , you also hoped someone would want to buy it ..
People were starting to come in and you quickly set everything up when your teacher came over.
“y/n, its going to be lovely, this is such a fancy high established place i have no doubt someone will want to pick you up”
“Thank you.. Heh.. i hope soo….”
Things were going good. People loved your piece and you got compliments on it, not many people understood its meaning or how you came to the conclusion to draw these two things together but you loved it. No one made offers though, unfortunately. You just wanted to see Kyo .. where was he?
“You look ridiculous Kawa” Mattsun said.
“The invite said SUITS!” he yelled at them as he parked his car.
“It also said not mandatory” Iwaizumi said getting out with his friends
Kyo got out stretching giving all these fancy people a smirk as they passed, hands on their chest gasping at the sight of him and his friends.
Everyone had regular clothes on, Oikawa was in a suit.
Kyotani was in ripped jeans, black boots and his shops shirt.
Oikawa was in a fancy black suit.
Mattsun was in skater clothes showing off his many tattoos
Iwaizumi was in jeans and a punk rock shirt.
“Ready ?” he asked his friends as he cracked his knuckles.
Everyone said yes and Kyotani could not wait to get inside this fancy place.
You were sitting by your art staring at all the people, everyone had stopped coming over to ask about it. No one was interested. You wanted to leave but you were required to stay till the night was done. You sighed checking your phone when you heard a very loud gasp.
“Oh my god…”
“You must have the wrong place…”
“This place is not for you lot”
“Ouch, im just here to see my girlfriend”
You got the biggest smile jumping out of your seat. “Kyoooo!!!”
People looked back and you waved. Kyotani pushed his way through and Oikawa apologized awkwardly to everyone as him and his friends past through. Kyo picked you up hugging you tight kissing your chest and setting you back down.
“Hows my happy girl”
“Super good now!” you squeezed him and said hello to everyone.
Mattsun checked on his tattoo on you and Iwai and Kawa said hello.
“Sweetie anybody pick you up yet?”
“No.. i .. i dont think people like it”
“Where is it ?”
You took his hand taking him and his friends back over to your space. His heart thumped when he saw it. Holy fuck. It was a very large drawing of a wolf and a happy red panda. The wolf was standing and looking straight on and the red panda was between its front legs with its front paws up looking very happy.
You leaned on Kyo hugging his sleeve waiting for him to say something. Mattsun knew instantly you were inspired by his style, he even saw his name next to yours for credits/ inspiration. Oikawa was speechless for once in his life and Iwaizumi was watching his friend with a big smile. Good for you Mad Dog.
“Sweetie…. “
“Do you like it ? its … it us heh.”
“I fuckin love it”
“Really?!”
“Sweetie” he picked you up again and kissed your lips not caring who was staring. “ i love you y/n. I want you to partner with me in my shop. I want to spend my life with you.”
“KYO!!!” you wiggled in his grip till he put you down. You whined grabbing his face to kiss him all over. “ i love you too!! Yes yes!!!”
“And ill buy this art y/n” Mattsun told you.
You looked over and he smiled taking out his checkbook. “Thank you for putting my name on it, im touched.”
Everything was working out for you, nothing could be better.
The years went on, you agreed to move in with Kyo after you finished up school and used Mattsuns money to start up your designs with Kyo in his shop. He put your name on the brand making it yours as well. You made cute hoodies with ears and dresses along with cute animal bags. Kyotani still made his punk clothes and he still had his friends working with him. Mattsun had your art up in his shop and Bokuto visited regularly to ask how you were and so did Yahaba. Everything was perfect. Well. almost perfect.
Kyo was at his register going over inventory. It was after hours and no one was there but him and you. You skipped over sitting on the register giggling.
“Im almost done sweetie”
“It will only take a second!!!!”
He sighed looking up to see you holding a sketch book with three tiny garments on them, two looked to be boys clothes and the last one a girl.
“So you wanna sell kids clothes?” he asked, taking the book and standing up looking it over.
“Well … i was hoping we could use them for our kids”
“Sweetie we dont ha-........................................” he dropped the sketchbook looking at you,
You giggled, rubbing your stomach. “We do now!!!!”
*
Stick around for the sequel!!! 
Thank you for enjoying this story with me ❤️ i love this fic the very most it has a special place in my heart. Thank you for reading .
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Mismatch- Part 3
Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020
Ah Irony, I trust this wont be the last I’m seeing of you
First < Previous > Next
----
‘Sorry, Nino told Adrien that you guys said to go ahead!?’ Chloe explained.
“Looks like Liela’s at it again,” Marion tells Marinette.
“Of course she is,” Marinette was already hailing a cab
‘Lila must have told Alya who told Nino or something’ Marion responds.
'I am so sorry we’ll come back to get you’
‘Dont worry bout it we’re getting a cab’
‘Dont let kags kill anyone’ He adds
‘No promises’
Marinette grabs Marion by the arm, dragging him over to a cab. Just as she's about to climb in someone grabs her, arm pulling her away. Reflexes kick in and she makes a jab at their stomach. They block her punch, but let go of her arm. Marinette looks up to see a black haired blue eyed boy who couldn't be any older than them.
“This isn’t a real cab,” He explains quickly, taking his phone out to snap a picture of the stunned driver.
“Oh? Oh!” Marinette processes, realising she just tried to punch him for helping her, “I am so sorry!”
“It’s ok, good reflexes,” He compliments, they step away from the cab as it speeds away, “I’m Tim,”
“Marinette,” She shakes his offered hand, “This is Marion,”
“Hi, thanks for that,” Marion nods towards where the ‘taxi’ was, “How could you tell?”
“You live around here long enough you learn to spot them,” Tim answers, “are you two french?”
“Yep,” Marinette chirped, “We’re on a class trip,”
“Where’s your class?” Tim frowns looking around.
“Ummm… they kinda….” Marinette looked down at her shoes.
“Left us,” Marion finishes for her.
“They left you? In Gotham?” Tim asks, the twins nod avoiding eye contact.
“Where are you staying? I’ll drive you there,” Tim decides.
“You don’t have to do that!” Marinette gestures wildly, wide eyed.
“We’ll be fine on our own,” Marion adds, because yes they did almost get in a fake cab, but it wasn't as if they couldn't have dealt with it.
“It’s all right,” Tim tells them, scanning the cars around, “Look my rides here,”
The twins turn to see a limo pull up, a well dressed driver steps out of the vehicle.
“Good Evening Master Tim, how was your trip?” He asks, taking Tim’s bag.
“It was fine Alfred,” Tim says, “would you mind if we dropped these two off at their hotel?”
“Not at all, Master Tim, I am Alfred Pennyworth,” Alfred greets the twins, “May I ask your names,”
“Uh, Marion, and this is Marinette,” Marion replies, “You really don’t have to, we’ll be fine,”
“It’s no trouble at all,” He tells them, “Where are you staying?”
“Wayne hotel,” Marinette goes to grab her bags to find them gone, turning to see Alfred already placing it in the trunk.
“Witchcraft,” Marion whispers to her, Marinette nods. She always made sure to at least be touching her backpack, as it held the Miracle box.
“Come in,” Tim offers, already sitting in the Limo.
The twins concede climbing in after Tim a little awkwardly. He had somehow gotten ahold of a travel cup and was holding it like a lifeline.
“I’m surprised you're staying at the Wayne hotel for a class trip,” Tim takes a gulp of the probably scalding hot coffee.
“Marinette submitted an amazing essay to the Wayne Foundation and won the trip for the whole class,” Marion dodges her kick, Tim hides his smirk behind his cup.
"We submitted an essay,” Marinette corrects, glaring at Marion for shaking his head.
“Thank you for the ride,” Marion changes the topic.
“No problem, I really don’t mind, the longer I stay away from the manor the better,” Tim replies sleepily.
“Why's that?” Marinette questions, concern written all over her face.
“Loud, too many siblings” Tim quickly clarified, “I need more time with my coffee before I deal with them,”
“I think I can relate,” Marion mutters, ignoring Marinette's look, “How many siblings do you have?”
“Officially? Thr-Two brothers,”
“Unofficially?” Marinette prods.
“Feels like half of Gotham most the time,” Tim sighs, making them chuckle.
“You two must be twins?” Tim guesses.
“Unfortunately,” Marinette sighs.
“You love me,” Marion scoffs.
“Unfortunately,” Marinette repeats, Tim cracks a smile.
“If it's any consolation you seem to get on much better than I do with my siblings,” Tim takes another long sip from his coffee.
“If it’s any consolation we’re always fighting,” Marion parrots, sharing a knowing glance with Marinette. Fighting? Yes. Fighting each other? Only when Chat Noir gets brainwashed.
“So what are you looking forward to in Gotham?” Tim asks.
“Lots of things,” Marinette and Marion start to tell Tim all about their(civilian) plans. Tim suggests places every now and then, he points out the hotel as they start to get closer.
“Ah!” Marinette exclaims, turning to Marion, “We were meant to check in as a class, will they even let us in?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they do,” Tim assures them. When they pull up at the hotel Alfred opens the door and Tim gets out with them.
“Thank you so much,” Marinette takes her bags from Alfred, giving him a smile.
“You’re welcome Miss,” Alfred smiles back.
Marion also gives his thanks and they follow Tim into the building. Marinette admires the architecture, brainstorming ideas for designs. Perhaps she can make improvements to the outfits they’ll be using at the concert. Tim goes straight to the front desk and explains the situation. The receptionists hands over the room keys, telling them their classmates had already grouped up, three to a room.
“That was surprisingly easy,” Marion muses, as they walk towards the elevator, “Thank you,”
“My pleasure,” Tim answers easily, as they step into the elevator, “I must be off,”
They give their goodbyes, letting the doors close as Tim walks away.
“He was nice,” Marinette hums in agreement.
“Hopefully there's more people in Gotham like him,” They step out of the elevator.
“There will be,” Marion assures, “Meet back here when they go to sleep?”
“No, I’ll text you when everyones asleep and you can teleport in,” Marion nods, both know Kaalki won’t be impressed.
They go their separate ways. Marinette knocked on the room door that was opened a few moments later by Kagami.
“I am sorry,” Kagami immediately apologizes, “I should have known better and asked you myself,”
“Don’t worry, we’re fine,” Marinette gives the girl a hug, rolling her suitcase into the room.
“Marinette, you need to see this place, although it’s as good as daddys hotel,” Chloe grabs her by the arm. Leading her through the well furnished and decorated living room with a kitchenette to the side.
“You do live in the penthouse suite,” Marinette looked out the floor to ceiling window, displaying the view of the city, itching to grab her sketchbook.
“True, but they didn’t put me in the penthouse, so it's their loss,” Chloe guides her to a room with a large bed, bedside tables with flowers on them and a mirrored closet door. “This is yours,”
Marinette went to grab her suitcase only to see Kagami behind them with it. She thanked her and got settled in. Once she was unpacked they sat together in the living room to talk about tomorrow.
“You’d better not go wandering off, Gotham is dangerous,” Chloe wagged her finger at Marinette.
“And you’re going to protect me?” Marinette threw a couch cushion at her.
“Well, duh, I was Queen Bee,” Chloe bragged, catching the cushion and throwing it right back.
“For, like, month, years ago,” Marinette caught the pillow, sending it to Kagami, “Weren’t you replaced with Bumble Bee?”
“It was a mutual decision,” Chloe caught the pillow that Kagami hesitantly threw to her.
“Right,” Marinette said in a disbelieving tone, knowing full well that Bumble Bee was just Chloe’s new alias. “I think I’d rather stick with Kagami,”
“Rude,” Chloe threw the pillow at her.
“Didn’t we all agree Kagami was as good as any bodyguard?” Marinette asks, throwing the pillow to said girl.
“Excuse you, we said she was better than any bodyguard,” Both gave her inquisitive looks, “What? I’m just stating facts!”
“Of course,” Marinette caught the pillow, still smiling.
“I am!”
“I believe you,” Marinette threw the pillow back at her.
“No you don’t!” Chloe throws the pillow forcefully at her.
“Whatever gave you that idea?” Marinette chucks the pillow to Kagami.
“You’re infuriating Dupain-cheng,” Chloe huffs, catching the pillow from Kagami.
“I can show you some… moves,” Kagami hesitantly speaks up, as Chloe throws the pillow at Marinette, “For self defence,”
“Sure,” Marinette puts the pillow down, standing up with Kagami.
They spent the next half hour with Kagami instructing Marinette on basic fencing moves. With the cardboard wrapping of the now empty Toblerone block.
“Where is she going to get a sword?” Chloe was scrolling through her phone, “Unless you want her to carry that around everywhere,”
“What do you suggest?” Kagami challenges defensively.
“Like this,” Chloe takes over, showing both Marinette and Kagami how to break out of certain holds to get their arm free or how to disarm an opponent.
“Where did you learn this?” Marinette watches as Kagami practices the motions of disarming Chloe's hairbrush gun.
“I told you, I was Queen Bee and I took that job seriously,” Chloe drops the hairbrush, Kagami kicking it away.
“Didn’t you tell all of Paris your identity and then send a train out of control,” Kagami asks, retrieving the hairbrush.
“I was young and naive,” Chloe sighs dramatically, had to her forehead.
“Three years ago?” Marinette stands up to try and disarm Chloe now.
“Four actually,”
“Oh, my mistake,” Marinette rolls her eyes trying not to disarm Chloe too quickly.
They carry on a little longer before Marinette sends them to bed.
“We have an early day tomorrow, we don’t want to be late,” She pushes Chloe towards her room.
“Coming from you? That’s rich,” Chloe laughs.
“Whatever, go to sleep,” Marinette closes the door on Chloe's protests.
“Goodnight Marinette,” Kagami nods, walking to her room without a fuss.
Marinette goes to her room, firing Marion a text.
“Alright dude,” Nino turns to Marion, “I’m with Alya, we all know who Adrien has a crush on-”
“Everyone!?” Adrien sits up from where he’s lying on the couch.
“Yes, everyone,” Nino deadpans.
“What about Marinette?” Adrien turns pleading eyes to Marion.
“Oh not Marinette, she's as clueless as you,”
“What’s that meant to mean?” Adrien frowns defensively.
“Anyway,” Nino interrupts, “Dude, who do you have a crush on?”
“Ummmm,” Marion shifts uncomfortably from where he’s perched on the couches arm rest, “... It’s sort of a celebrity crush,”
“Oh? who?” apparently that was not the answer that would make him lose interest.
“It’s not really important, not like anything could happen,” Marion looks at Adrien for help, but he seems just as curious as Nino.
“Just tell us,” Nino pushes.
“It’s a hero,” Marion immediately realises that just got them more interested. “... From Gotham,”
“Batman?” Adrien guesses.
“No!” Marion shouts, “No! He’s old enough to be my dad, geez,”
“Alright, alright, who is it?” Nino placates leaning forward on his arm chair.
“..... Red hood,”
“Isn’t he a rouge?” Adrien asks.
“No!.... Maybe, he’s still a hero ok?” Marion curls up defensively.
“Why do you like him?” Adrien is grinning, shifting closer to Marion.
“I don’t know,” Marion rolls off the armrest, onto the couch next to him.
“You have to like something,” Nino gets up to sit on his other side.
“I don’t know, maybe because he looks good in his suit?!” Marion shouts.
“You’re not that shallow,” Adrien pokes him in the stomach.
“Ugh, fine,” Marion relents, “He works with Batman right?”
They both nod.
“He’s just so unlike everyone else he works with, I just kinda…. admire how he can just be…. be himself.” Marion curls up under his friend's stares.
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Adrien teases, Marion huffs.
“He does look good in his suit though,”
“Wait a minute, is this why you always wear that MDC outfit?” Nino is clearly holding back laughter.
“No!” Marion bushes at the memory.
They were doing a practice interview about his newest song. Marinette had designed his outfit based on Red Hood's. It was something he had endured endless teasing over as he insisted everything had to be perfect, not that the great MDC would make anything less.
“Were there any problems that arose from the design MDC?” The interview asked, moving onto the outfit choice.
“We had some minor disagreements about the hood,” Marinette gestured to the outfit Marion was wearing. A red hoodie underneath a faux leather jacket(not that you could tell) on the back there were flying red bats embroidered up the side. He was wearing a black domino mask with red detailing in place of the helmet. It was the outfit they chose to alter into their vigilante costumes.
“She was getting very frustrated over it,” Marion teased, “I told her it didn’t need one,”
“His name is Red Hood! Why doesn't he wear a Hood? Robin wears a hood,”
“He looks cool without it,” Marion defended.
“You’re just saying that, cause you have a crush on him,” Marinette teased in a sing-song voice.
“MD!” He shouted, pulling the hood up to hide his blush, MDC laughing at him, he groaned. “Please tell me the cameras aren't rolling,”
“Don’t worry, nothing we say is being recorded,” The interviewer was luckily professional enough to not laugh, but was certainly amused, “I take it we will be omitting that from the real interview?”
“Yes!”
Unfortunately for him one of the staff members had been secretly recording. They leaked the footage online, getting fired, but not sparing MCD from the whole world finding out. The fanbase had been going crazy ever since they announced their concert in Gotham. Many imagining meet-cute moments or theorising that they were already dating. He shakes his head at the memory.
“I just think it looks cool,” He comes back to the present.
“Because it’s based on your crush?” Adrien teases.
“Nope, you don’t get to tease me about this, I haven't seen you not wearing something Marinette made you in years,” Marion cuts Adrien off with a raised eyebrow, looking down at his Ladybug onesie Marinette made him.
“Fine,” Adrien turns to Nino, “It’s up to you now,”
“Has Marinette made you anything Red Hood related?” Nino grins.
“Nooooo,” Marion moans, draping over the couch.
“Do you have a onesie based on him as well?” Marion finds his saving grace when his pocket buzzes.
“Stooooooooop,”
“Never this is too good,” Nino teases, “Did you bring it with you?”
“That's enough for tonight!” Marion claps his hands, standing up.
“Awwwww,” They both moan in unison.
“Nope! I don’t have to put myself through this, goodnight to you,” Marion walks straight to his room before they can protest further.
He locks the door behind him. Plagg and Kaalki are in the room chatting, they fly over to Marion.
“You ready to go Kaalki?”
“I am not meant to be used for something as trivial as a taxi,” The Kwami complains.
“We just need to grab out suits, this will be the only night, I promise,” The Kwami gives him a nod, “Kaalki full gallop,”
He transforms and opens a portal into Marinette's room.
“Ready Bug?” He asks, stepping into the room. He opens another portal to their room in Paris.
“Of course,” They step through the portal, followed by their Kwami’s, into their room as quietly as possible.
Marion drops his Marinette pulls out their costumes from the closet. They were disguised to look like regular clothing, but could be altered to quickly change.
“I don’t know how you talked me into this,” Marinette takes the hoodie he usually wears, reaching under a secret fold and unzips the hood.
“Come on bug, our hero-selves cant be seen in Gotham, and you know full well we wouldn't stand aside if someone was getting hurt in front of us,” Marion takes the body of the hoodie from her, flipping it inside out to the black side.
“True, but why do we have to do nightly patrols?” Marinette finishes pulling on her leggings, flipping her usual white jumper with a cherry blossom pattern inside out to the same red shade as the hood.
“It would look pretty suspicious if we just showed up when our class was in danger, now wouldn’t it,” Marion fasten the yellow belt around his waist, slipping his baton into the holster and pulls on his on his boots, hopping slightly.
“I think you just want to be a vigilante,” Marinette takes his Red Hood jacket, flipping it inside out to black with yellow trim.
“Well, it’s exciting isn’t it?” Marion takes what would usually be Mainette's skirt, flipping the pink inside out to the green and unzipping it along a black line, “We get to test out our skills without miraculous, and we don't have the fate of the city resting on our shoulders,”
“You could a least try to take it seriously,” Marinette flips her beanie inside out to the black side. Pulling it on after the severed hood, lining the holes up with her eyes and pulling the hood up.
“I am taking this very seriously,” Marion says with the biggest grin. Taking Marinette's infinity scarf, running his hands across it to find the secret fold. Flipping it inside out to a green with yellow and black trim. He pulls it over his head, yellow stripe to his hairline.
“Whatever," Marinette fastens her holster with a baton around her left leg. They both pull on their black gloves. "Lets go,”
Marion transforms back and opens a portal to a rooftop far away from the hotel. They take off across the roofs, using their batons to pole vault across alleys, to land on roofs and fire escapes. As they race, taunting each other, they survey the streets below. Marinette stops, crouching down as Marion catches up. A young woman was being chased by two thugs.
“Let’s go,” She whispers, using the fire escape as a firemans pole. Marion follows suit.
They land in the alley as the girl gets backed up against a wall, clutching her purse. She looks straight at them, Marion gestures her to stay quiet as they sneak up behind the thugs. Marinette takes the one on the right, as he lines up behind the left one. Marinette attacks first hitting the right one over the head with her baton.
“What the-” Marion cuts the left one off by sweeping his legs with his baton, sending him crashing to the ground. He pins them down, tying his wrist together with one hand, “You little fuc-”
Marion stuffs the mans own hat in his mouth. He then ties the crooks legs together for good measure. He looks over to Marinette, her thug unconscious, she was comforting the victim, offering her a cookie from a hidden pocket.
“Thank you,” She takes the cookie hesitantly.
“Not a problem,” Marinette gives her a winning smile.
“Wow, this is really good,” She mumbles, with her mouth full, “Um, who are you,”
“Don't worry about that,” Marion slings his arm around Marinette, "We're just your friendly neighbourhood strays,"
“Ignore him,” Marinette pushes his arm off her, “Do you want us to walk you home?”
“Uh- yeah, thanks,”
“I love your outfit by the way,” Marinette tells her, as they leave the alley way. Marion walks behind calling the police to come pick up the thugs, explaining what happened.
“Hey, can I get your number so the police can get your statement later?” Marion interrupts, as they follow the girl to her apartment.
“Of course,” He hands over the phone, letting her hang up.
“I haven’t seen you around before,” She hands back the phone, Marion walking on her other side.
“We’re new to town,” Marion smiles at her.
“I can tell,” They both give her inquisitive looks, “You’ve smiled more in the last five minutes than most Gothamites do their whole lives,”
“You’re exaggerating,” Marinette chuckles.
“I’m serious, you’re going to blind someone,” She laughs with them.
They walk her to her apartment, holding polite conversation the whole way.
“This is it,” She announces, “Thanks again,”
“No problem,” They both say, turning to leave.
“Wait…. Um,” They both stop looking back at her holding her phone, “Can I get a picture?”
“Of course,” Marion bounces over to her, Marinette taking the other side.
They give the same big smiles they do as Ladybug and Chat Noir. Marion throwing up bunny ears behind Marinette's head. They say goodbye and run off to find someone else to help.
“Whatcha doing Tim?” Dick looks over his shoulder, still in his Nightwing costume fresh from patrol.
“I ran into some French students who were left behind by their class at the airport,” Tim scrolls through a word document, complete with pictures of smiling teens doing a mixture of charity work and sports among other activities. “They won the Martha Wayne educational trip, I was just looking through their entry,”
“They got left behind, in Gotham?”
“That’s what I said! I actually caught them just before they got in a faux taxi,” Tim reaches the end of the rather long essay.
“They could have been mugged, or kidnapped!” Dick slams his hands down on the desk.
“I know , Dick,” Tim rubs his face, “The worst part is they didn’t seem at all surprised about it either,”
Dick leaves Tim to his work to change, muttering to himself.
“Is everything alright, Master Dick?” Alfred appears with food for after patrol.
“What if it happens again?” Dick asks.
“I assume you’re referring to the lovely twins Master Tim met at the airport?” Alfred nods knowingly, Dick nods back. “Well hopefully something similar doesn't happen tomorrow for their tour of Wayne Tower,”
“.... Alfred can you place me in charge of the tour?”
“Consider it done, Master Dick,” Alfred leaves him to get changed.
He finishes changing into regular clothes as the Batmobile pulls in. Batman and Robin exiting.
“We need to discuss security measures for the upcoming concert,” Batman tells the room, they gather around,
“MCD is known for his advocacy of superheroes, so we can expect a few villains to make trouble,” Tim pulls up a picture of MCD with MDC as they walk down the red carpet for some event.
Dick is amused that the picture he pulled up had them in Batman and Robin themed outfits. MDC wearing a beautiful black dress with the bat symbol subtly incorporated into the bodice. Her dress trailed behind in sharp points like Batman’s cape. MCD was wearing a suit with a red shirt, his tie green and some yellow detailing.
“You are going to be professional aren't you?” Damian gives them both pointed looks.
“Whatever are you talking about?” Dick asks innocently.
“You two are always jabbering on about these two,” Robin glares.
“We do not-oh that reminds me, if we’re going to be guarding this event we have to invite Jason,” Dick addresses Bruce.
“He is worse than you two, going on about that interview,” Damian must be rolling his eyes under the domino mask.
“Come on little D. how often does your celebrity crush like you back?” Dick smiles, remembering the night Jason called him yelling in excitement telling him about the leaked footage. He had also asked him to get Tim to find out who leaked the footage and have them fired.
“I don’t know and I don’t care,”
“As for actual security measures,” Batman redirects the conversation.
“Master Jason has arrived,” Alfred reports, coming to stand with them.
“Speak of the devil,” Tim mutters.
“BRUCE YOU MOTHERFUCKER,”Jason bursts into the bat cave, “I need to know these things!”
“We were just talking about the concert,” Dick tells him.
“What? No! Why didn’t you tell me you adopted more!” He yells at Bruce. “I need to know when you’re planning to traumatise more kids!”
“Jason what are you talking about,” Bruce only lets a hint of irritation into his voice.
“THis,” Jason slams down his phone to a screenshot of a tweet. It showed a picture of a boy and girl, both with black hair and blue eyes, following Tim into a limo. Written underneath was;
Wayne Twins? How long has Bruce Wayne been keeping them from Gotham? Are they adopted? Or could the Family resemblance be more than coincidence?
#wayne twins #Bruce Wayne's secret children #aren’t they just adorable
“What is this?” Bruce asks Tim.
“They’re the one who won the Martha Wayne educational trip, their class left them at the airport, I gave them a ride,” Tim briefly explained, noticeably omitting the taxi part.
“Wait so you didn’t adopt them?” Jason picks his phone back up.
“No, Jason, I didn’t,” Jason’s eyes narrow.
“... Are you going to?”
“... No, I’m not,”
“Keep an eye out,” Jason not at all subtly whispers to Dick, “He hesitated,”
“What are we going to do?” Damian cuts their growing argument off.
“We could release a statement?” Tim suggests.
“Drawing attention to it will only fuel the flames, let’s just let it die out,” Bruce decides, getting nods of agreement.
“By the way Jason, we were talking about security measures for the MCD concert,” Dick changes the topic.
“Without me!?”
They go back to making security plans for the concert, including Jason.
“I think we should have someone inside,” Jason looks over the blueprint of the venue.
“Of course you do,” Damian remarks snidely
“You little-”
“Bruce!” Superman's face pops up on the main computer, “You can’t just take in new kids without warning!”
“They aren’t my children,” Bruce clenches his fists, “The pictures with Tim are taken out of context,”
“What? I’m talking about the new Robins-,”
“THE NEW WHAT!” Jason and Damian shout at the same time.
“What are you talking about?” Bruce probably asking that question more times today than he would like.
“Uh, this,” A picture is sent through a screenshot of another tweet that was steadily becoming viral.
The picture had two teens in masks on either side of a civilian, giving the biggest smiles that had probably ever grace Gotham. The boy giving the girl bunny ears. Underneath was written:
Almost got mugged tonight and was saved by these two. Didn't tell me their names. They kinda look like Robin right? Also they gave me a cookie? It was actually good too.
#new Robins #Robin #Batfam #OMG their smile are pure sunshine #send help I might be blind
#miraculous#miraculous ladybug#miraculous ladybug fic#bio dad bruce wayne#Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020#Mismatch#Marinette#marinette is mdc#twins au#vigilante au#pop star au#bio mum selina#bio! dadbrucewaynemonth2020#b! dbwm2020#Maribat#mlb#salt#but like lightly salted#maybe#class trip au#class salt#Lila salt#lila lies#big shocker there
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“I’ve Got The Perfect Name”
Summary- 2.9k Sam Wilson x You. Your in training with the Avenger Team and have a slight mishap. No one else is bothered by it, but you can’t seem to get over it. Sam takes you out to early morning breakfast to his favorite place to take your mind off it. Its fluffy fluff. No warnings. Unless you count Bucky stealing food off someones plate a warning. Written for @jtargaryen18 4k challenge. Congrats babes! Much love always.
The day Tony Stark came out as Ironman, things changed. The world changed. Suddenly superheroes were no longer something from comic books and movies, but real actual people, and you wanted nothing more than to become one.
This whole new world opened up, and you were quick to join in, putting in your schooling to join SHIELD. Specifically Nichols Fury. Your time working with Nicholas Fury really opened your eyes to possibilities you never could have fathomed. Being a Shield Agent trained you in all manners of fight styles and technology. So years down the road you had to move on from Shield when Captain, Black Widow and newly recruited Falcon proved it was compromised. Yet you followed Fury, your work had become everything for you.
Life happened, the snap happened, and you continued on through it as best you could. The losses, there was no way to properly mourn. You tried, once in a while to deal with it, attending Steve Rogers support groups, the two of you would talk one on one. You told him about your history with Shield and Fury, he told you more and more about the Avengers, those people he considered family. You could see the pain it caused him.
“You don't have to Steve, it's okay.”
“No I got to, it's how we keep their memory alive.” He would simply say. You left it at that, maybe you were helping him as much as he was helping you. Over time, he became more then someone you once worked with, he became a friend.
The day came when the snap was reversed, and Steve Rogers called you the next day with urgency. “We have to talk, meet me at that cafe by your apartment.”
When you two happened to meet an hour later, he slid a folder across the table at you. “I have an offer for you.”
**************************
You landed on the tarmac designed specifically for War Machine and for the new Captain America. Sam, he really wasn't about to give up his wings, not for the new title. You let out a frustrated exhale as you stepped away from the bullseye target and Sam landed down as you were walking away.
“Y/N! Come back here, it wasn't your fault.” His red wings folded behind him, and he jogged over to where you were opening the door and going back into the compound, undoing clasps and the harness holding your own wings and sliding them off.
“I spiraled out of control. If that had been a mission Sam, I could have hurt someone!” You snapped out as you pushed your own set of wings into the lock up. “I need to do better than this.”
Sam shrugged off his own and put it next to yours. “You are just learning still. It's only been a few months. When I first got the wings with Riley, we were crashing all over the damn place. It takes time. I'm ready to have you join the team now actually, if you weren't so damn stubborn.” trying to reassure you, you shrugged him off, closing the lockers door. You still felt like you were failing the team, and Rogers. He had believed in you when he gave you this opportunity, and still you were making mistakes. Sam might brush it off as small, but for you they were huge, significant.
“Well I say I'm not.” your arms folding over your chest and sighing. “I have to be perfect, you guys can't afford to have someone making basic mistakes.”
“Y/N, you know you can’t be perfect, no one is.” He started, but you already were walking away from Sam to go back down to the lounge, when he stopped you, frowning a bit. “You do know that right?” eyes studying yours and you gave a sharp nod, and forced a smile.
“Sure Wilson, don't worry. Tomorrows a new day.” Extracting yourself from his grasp, you continued to the lounge area, leaving Wilson frustrated with being unable to get you to calm down.
Inside the lounge area, you went immediately to the kitchen, searching for something. Anything that can take your mind off your mistake today, pulling open the fridge door, and slamming it shut again with an aggravated sigh, then onto the cupboards and drawers. Yanking open one, you saw a half crumpled bag of Mint Milanos, and snatched the bag, unrolling it. Taking out a cookie you munched on it, when a deep voice from behind you made you jump and spin around, catching sight of Bucky sitting at the table, a ripe purple plum rolling between his metal fingers. “Bad day Y/N?” He sunk his teeth into the fruit and chewed it.
“Disappointed in myself.” You dug for another cookie and crammed it in your mouth.
Bucky used his foot to push out a chair, and you went to sit in it, snapping your next cookie in half and offering him half of it, which he shook his head at.
“Sounds kinda like you're beating yourself up, I haven't heard of anyone being hurt. So what happened?”
You picked at the cookie a bit before taking a bite, chewing it slowly and setting the rest aside. “Clint be mad if I eat all his cookies.” Bucky snorted with laughter and took another bite of his plum.
“He aint gonna care. Probably won't be back for another few months now that he's back home with Laura and the kids. So? Wilson getting on your nerves, cause I could give you a few payback tips.”
“No no… Sam was helpful. He’s been trying his hardest training me with the wings. Sam told me to be careful of those updrafts, and one caught me unaware, I turned when I should have tilted.” you continued on, Bucky listening and when you tapered off, Bucky had finished his plum, the pit left behind that he made a toss, which it kerplunked into the nearby garbage can.
“So you made a mistake today. You learn from it and dont do it tomorrow.”
“And what happens when I make a mistake in a mission Buck?”
He wiped his hands against his thighs, and moved to a stand, grabbing two beers from the fridge and handing you one. “You make it right, your human Y/N, just like the rest of us. You wouldn't fault any of us on a minor thing, would you? I hope not, cause then I would be fucked.” Tipping his bottle to yours with a clink, he left it at that.
****************************************************
You still couldn't shake the feeling, wandering the compound early in the morning hours, you wanted to test the wings again, prove to yourself that Rogers wasn't wrong in picking you to take the Falcons place. You were just about to go up the stairs back to the tamarac when Sam came out of nowhere and grasped your arm.
“No way Y/N, you know you can't go flying along in the middle of the damn night. At least not yet.”
“I wasn't- Okay okay, I hear you. I just can't sleep.” You gave in, and let go of the handle, stepping away to show Sam that you weren't serious about actually doing it.
He seemed to study you, and then in the dark his grin flashed bright. “I got something better in mind.” Tugging you away, you followed him down, heading towards the garage.
“Well what's that Wilson?”
“Oh you will see, get in the car.” He opened the passenger side door, and you folded your arms in defiance.
“You know it is only fair to tell a person where they are going. What if sweat pants and a hoodie isn't proper attire.”
Giving you a nudge, in which you complied, he shut the door and went behind the wheel. “I assure you, you will be fancy enough there. Promise.” The drive was quick being 4 in the morning and no traffic. You leaned forward to read the sign above where he stopped.
“The Wayside? You took me to an all night diner?”
“Sure did, best place to get breakfast this early in the morning. Plus you were driving me nuts at the compound. Up all night, pacing around, beating yourself up over nothing” Sam insisted, and got out of the car, you followed suit, wrapping your arms around yourself as his own went over your shoulder, leading you inside. You scowled at him and rolled your eyes.
“I was doing no such thing.”
“Sure you weren’t Y/N. Morning Sal!” Sam called cheerfully to the cook just in sight in the kitchen, he gave a wave of his spatula in salute to Sam and turned back to his stove, where you could see he was preparing to start cooking. Sam scanned the room, and then pointed at a booth near the entrance, situating you on a specific side. “Perfect, exactly where we need to be.”
“Need to be?” You questioned as you sat down, glancing out the window to a sky starting to lighten up, another car pulling into the parking lot.
“Yup, take your mind off yesterday, get a damn good breakfast and just chill.” Sam explained what he wanted, and you listened closely, laughed with a light shake of the head, arching a brow with a grin on your face. Just what Sam was looking for.
“You actually do this often?” you say as a waitress grabs a couple menus, making her way over, dropping them off.
“Sam, two mornings in a row? I say you must be growing sweet on me, cause Sal’s cooking isn't that amazing.”
“Awww you know I'm always sweet on you.” Sam flirted back while you took the menu, and flicked it open. Nearby you could hear Sal cursing in the kitchen, the waitress rolling her eyes. “Don't mind him, he does that every morning. Get you two something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice, milk, water?”
You snapped your menu closed with a smile to your waitress, even if you were still bleary eyed and half asleep. Your eyes darted to her name tag before answering. “Coffee please Sara.” She jotted down before waving off Sam's request.
“Orange Juice and coffee, black?” She quirked a brow and Sam confirmed with a wink, and nodded. “Be right back you two.” Her flats clicked on the linoleum floor while she went around the counter, and grabbed mugs. You settled in your booth seat, your back leaning against the wall as your legs stretched out on the seat, glancing at Sam.
“So… you actually sweet on Sara?” You grinned at him, and he nodded.
“I've been thinking about asking her out. She's a sweetheart and I would love to get to know her better. I just haven't yet.”
“And, what's stopping you Wilson? You wait too long, and someone else is going to beat you to it.”
Sam glanced out the window a minute, shrugging a bit. “Eh, seems like we’re always heading out doing something, and do I really want to drag someone into a life where she's worried? How is that fair?”
“Well…” You drifted off, Sam wasn't wrong. The thought had crossed your mind before. It would be alot to ask anyone to wait around, not knowing. As Avengers, they could be called on day or night, plus couldn't talk about their mission. Your partner wouldn't have any idea. “... Ask her. She should be able to make that decision for herself, right? You don't know, she might be okay with it, ya know? Besides, its just a date. Get out and have fun.”
“I could say the same for you Y/N.” He snorted, and caught Sara heading back over, flashing his bright grin and thanking her as she set down your coffees and his orange juice. “Can I set you two up?” She untucked her pen from her ear and grasped a pad from her apron. You were prompt in ordering your blueberry pancakes with sausage, Sam with hashbrowns, bacon and two fried eggs. Your foot nudged him under the table, and he flashed you a look. Since he wasn't ready, you didn't push any further for now. Left alone again, you picked up your conversation where it was left off.
“Same for me? Just cause I haven't dated in several months.”
“Ha, you haven't gone for a night out since you took the wings.” He sipped from his coffee cup while you were prompt grasping sugar and cream, dumping it in.
“Well I'm in training, I don't have time.”
“You're done with training Y/N, the wings are yours anytime you want.” His eyes lifted to catch yours, and you could feel unease as to how he turned this right around on you. Back to what was keeping you awake, the reason you and Sam were even out at 4 AM. “I even got a kickass name for you Y/N, since you can't have Falcon.”
You picked up his straw that Martha left for his orange juice, twiddling it between your fingers. “Wait, why not? You're not the Falcon anymore, since you took the shield.”
“Falcons mine, I still got the wings, Red Wing. I'm not giving that up. But, now hear me out.” He sounded so excited that you made a go on motion while prying off the top of the straws paper, listening. “We can call you, The Kestrel.”
That made you snort, bust out into a laugh, looking at him with amusement. “The Kestrel? Oh damn, where did you come up with that?”
“Come on, it's cool. You're smaller than me, and your wings do that hover in place thing. Know what Kestrels do when hunting? They hover over a spot till their prey bolts in fear. Then BAM! strike. Its badass name, you should consider it.”
“When did you go all Nat Geo on me Sam?” You purse your lips at the end of the straw and blew, shooting the paper at him, which he swatted away. Grabbing the straw from you, he stuck it in his orange juice and drank.
“Since forever, You should try it sometime. Expand the brain.” Tapping his forehead, Sara was heading back over with two steaming plates, setting your stack of blueberry pancakes in front of you, and Sam's full breakfast in front of him. “Thanks Sara.” Sam smiled warmly at her this time, which was returned.
“Enjoy you two, let me know if I can get anything else.” she looked at both of them, and then retreated back to help newly arriving customers settling at the counter. More regulars as she engaged in conversations with them. You couldn't help but watch Sam's lingering gaze follow her before he went back to his plate. You poured syrup on, and cut off your first piece.
“How about this Sam, You go ask Sara on a date, and I will consider taking up the wings officially. Name and all, no more training. You and Buck both seem to think I'm ready.” compromising with him, you saw a flash of accomplishment in Sam’s eyes and an outreach of his hand.
“Deal, shake on it, or it doesn't count.”
Your hand reached across and gave a firm shake. Once your hands separated, you made a motion for him to go, in which he took a deep breath and slid himself from the booth. When approaching the counter, Sam caught Saras attention, and you went back to cutting pancakes, trying to not be obvious watching from the corner of your eye. You could see Sam putting on some of his charm, a warm smile, leaning in closer.
Bucky suddenly fell into Sam's seat in the booth, grabbing a piece of bacon off his plate and crunching it. “Can't believe you two didnt invite me.”
“Shut up Barnes, i'm trying to listen.” you scolded him, taking a glance to see both Sara and Sam had their phones out, and appearing to be setting up a time, exchanging numbers.
“Oh! Is he finally doing it? About damn time. He's crushed on her forever now.” Now a piece of Sam's toast was gone.
“We made a deal. I decided to officially step out of training if he asked her out.”
Bucky looked at you in surprise, the triangle of toast hanging from his fingertips. “Well damn, the one time I sleep in, all this exciting stuff happens. What changed your mind?”
“You and Sam.” Shrugging a bit. “Maybe you two were right, plus it was the incentive Sam apparently needed.”
“Bucky, get your own breakfast!” Sam shoved back in the booth next to Bucky and grabbed his plate back from his friend. Bucky resettling in against the window, finishing off the piece of toast he had snagged earlier.
“Why? I got yours.” he snickered and glanced back over your way. “Sam tell you his name yet?”
“Mmhm, The Kestrel.” you chuckled and Sam shook a fork at you with a piece of egg at the end.
“It's a cool name, and I stand by it.”
“I will give it some thought. You get that date?” You change the subject, Bucky and You looking at him expectedly.
“Matter of fact I did, tomorrow night I'm taking her out.”
Bucky grinned, clapping Sam's shoulder. “Hell yea man, good for you.” Swiping another piece of bacon off his plate, the three of you continued on, the sun finally coming up to start the day, filling the cafe with easy laughter and the clinking of forks on plates.
#jtargaryen18s4k#sam wilson x you#sam wilson#the falcon#bucky barnes#fluffy#cute#amber writes#sweater writes#marvel#mcu
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Hey guys this is a one off dive into the HASO stories. I set in the the amazing universe of @starr-fall-knight-rise, although because of the extreme aspects of the story it is definitely not where they are planning on taking this universe. Consider it a possible alternate ending of their masterpiece. Also holy cow this got way longer than expected. Dont expect a sequel this one was enough of a pain.
300 years had passed since humanity joined the GA and since then there has been an uneasy peace unknown to the humans. Sure there have been conflicts such as the drev and burg war, however the scale of these pale in comparison to what humans consider total war. The humans became a natural threat in the galaxy that no species wanted to fight against. Something was bound to happen eventually although this time it came from an unexpected source.
Some humans now were alive when they showed up. The karviks, they called themselves, were an interesting race. The humans bonded with them immediately because they were the first race to have an innate curiosity about them. They asked why to everything and then went to great lengths to figure it out. Unlike other species who only cared about advancement of knowledge in things directly related to their survival, the karviks wanted to know for the sake of knowing. This made them much like the humans, the only difference is how they went about getting that knowledge. Whereas the humans would hurl themselves head long into the discovery, much to their own harm, the karviks being more fragile, deliberated and acted much more carefully. Theirs was the more sterilized version of the human drive to know.
They fit right in with the humans, and together they were able to advance galactic society 10 fold. However, as part of the karviks entrance into the GA they wanted to know about all its members. They were directed to study the races other than the humans first for simplicities sake. Eventually though, after 50ish years of being in the GA they turned their sights on the humans. It took them nearly 20 years of dedicated study to mostly figure out the intricacies of the human race and culture, and though they carried on as normal what they saw terrified them to their core. They secretly talked with other races about the nature of humans, and though they all assured the karviks that humans really were not that bad once you got to know them, there was no convincing them.
As the years went on the karviks became more and more distant. The GA assumed they would just retreat back to their home world unable to adjust to life in the GA as so many other species had. And for 10 years they lay largely forgotten. The humans were mildly annoying and upset over losing their favorite research buddies, however they eventually coped. It was during this time that we can only assume they obtained the long discarded and ancient work of a disgraced gib scientist about the god trapped within the soul of humans. This is where the galaxy took a turn for the worse.
It was an average year in the GA when suddenly contact was lost with a few exclusively human colonies. When military patrols showed up they found what was left of the colonies dieing and unable to be helped. It appeared as if a new disease had be brought against humanity. However, no suspicion was cast on anyone as disease was common among the humans. Although this appeared more lethal than anything before it there was a great cause for alarm as these two colonies traded heavily with each other and were on largely unwxplored worlds, who knew what was out there that could hurt a human.Much testing was done and thankfully it was discovered that only humans could catch it. Life carried on as normal until the next wave of contagion.
This next batch hit all the remaining outer colonies nearly simultaneously. It moved fast and killed only slightly slower. Upon examination the disease seemed to have mutated to an even more lethal form. However something was unnatural with its mutation. It suggested manual manipulation not merely the product of nature. This is when suspicion began to be cast. It was decided that for the time being everyone was a suspect. Much to the disapproval of the GA the humans enacted a universe wide recall of all humans who were not on a human colony or earth an moved all aliens off world. In what seemed almost a reinforcing move the virus began popping up on every non human world.
The work for a cure had begun in earnest at about this time and humans had cut all imports from the galaxy. The galatic economy collapse and in the ruble accusations arose. Each race was blaming the other for hostile acts against the humans and driving them from the assembly. It was all the GA could do the hold the galaxy together.
The karviks were notably quiet, and almost would have been successful in their plot against humanity if not for the luck of the humans.
In their 10 years since leaving the GA they had diverted all of their research into military power. It was something they had never done in history. Because of their nature war was an unheard of phenomenon on their planet. They had no conflict, not even minor resource struggles. They were always to busy wondering to even consider fighting, it would only hamper discovery. So when they needed to militarize they took all their inspiration from the most overkill warriors in the galaxy, humans. They had developed stealth ships that would be undetectable by humans not specifically looking for them, and they developed a super virus that would take the humans years the cure, not that they expected humans to live that long.
One fateful farmer named Jerome plinth would knowingly be one of the few reasons why humanity survived. He was working on his harvester when a large metal tube crashed down into his fields and began spewing a thick purple vapor. In his investigation he took several photos and sent them to the authorities. When investigators showed up to his property he had already passed and word was sent immediately to the UN. Around this same time a UNSC ship in orbit was conducting maintenance on their sensor package and had just started to check the system scanning all frequencies when a strange signal was intercepted. It was on a channel that had been discovered by a human-karvik research team and then classified for use only by the humans. This coupled with the unique manufacturing style on the tubes gave away the identity of the attacking party. Unfortunately this information would come to late for anyone on the inner colonies, as the karvicks warped into the orbits of all the remaining colonies at once. There was nothing left except for the shattered remains of planets struck by artificial meteors.
If there is one thing that humans are know for it is their ability to beat the odds and do the impossible. The virus that was designed in such a way as to be nearly impossible to find a cure for was cracked with the week. Revenge for the fallen can drive humans beyond what is though possible even to them. A vaccine was quickly distributed to the remaining humans, now only a quarter of what they once were. Plans for revenge moved though the upper leadership of the UNSC until a solution was found. The GA was notified of the plan however no permission was asked for, not that it would have been given. The GA was horrified by the lengths that humans would go to in war and had never seen anything so barbaric and yet elegant and poetic before. They briefly thought about trying to prevent the humans from acting but for fear of the humans turning on them decided to not interfere.
They humans prepared a final defensive fleet around earth in what appeared to be a last ditch effort against the inevitable finale assault by the karviks. When the assault came it came with a vengeance. The karvik fleet out numbered the humans at least 10 to 1. However the human fought hard, when the fighting dropped to the ground the humans deployed tactics not used since the end of their second world wars. Even with this barbarian fighting they were still losing and losing bad. Until out of nowhere the karvicks retreated. They plan had worked. Victory was won.
Unknown to the karvicks a single stealth vessel was sent to their home world. The humans inside gleefully released the canisters sending enough of the virus to wipe out 10 worlds. One of the first things done once the virus was cracked was to reverse it an make a strain 15 times worse than than released on the humans, one that spread fast and killed oh so slow, that was only compatible with the karvick. The GA watched on in horror as the humans totally eradicated the karvick race, sparing noone. They were once again for the first time in centuries reminded of the destructive power of the humans scorned.
After the war the humans cut themselves off from the galaxy, only occasionally sending messages to maintain knowledge on the GA and any scientific breakthroughs of the galaxy. The GA recovered and let the humans have their peace wanting them to cool down before once again stretching out amongst the stars.
On earth the humans were working. Under the guise of preventing another incident like they had just endured, they underwent forced evolution. The genetic code of every developing human was altered. In a single generation all genetic disease was permanently removed from humans and modifications were applied. Much of the inspiration came from the hero of a long dead video game about some destructive rings. The base human became so strong, tall, and powerful that not even the military prosthetic from the defunct steel eye suits could keep up with them. Humans also guy integrated themselves with technology, wiring a computer directly into their brain and replacing the lenses of their eyes to allow them to see in thermal, IT, and have a natural zoom mechanic. They became super soldiers, with titanium bones and a baseline strength 10 times higher than before. They decreased their reaction time to less than 10 milliseconds and and enhanced their lifespans significantly. Now the base human remained in their physical and mental prime for nearly 300 years only to rapidly degrade and die in 5. They removed the bodies ability to atrophy and develop fat deposits growing nearly 2 ft above the old average. They became the terrifying stuff or nightmare. However they elected to keep the personality of humans, never able to give up what makes them them. We dubbed ourselves the grown, and after 70 years of isolation most of the old have died out, leaving only us. Now all children are grown and it will continue this way forever. We evolved ourselves.
We sent our body modifications to the GA so they can update their records on humanity and will begin moving back into our home among the stars within the month. We look forward to having friendly duels with the drev and resuming our work with the vrul scientist soon. The tesriki can expected trade to reopened within the week. Despite the new bodies we, humanity, are still the same as we have always been in spirit and in personality. We look forward to rejoining the galaxy. We are sorry for they isolation but we needed to finish getting over a bad break up.
END TRASMISSION: HUMANITIES SPEECH REAGRDING ISOLATION AND PLANS OF REJOINING THE GALAXY
The GA members looked around the room at each other. "What...." the drev leader was the first to break the silence. None had any words after witnessing the speech. They all were thinking the same, if that is what happens when humanity is brought to its knees then it is best in future to keep them propted up.
"Do we even let them back in?" Queried one of the factions in the back of the room. "What choice do we have?" The drev leader countered.
They all continued to stare in silence and horror at the black screen before them. The unanimous agreement with the drev leader hanging in the room. It seemed best to avoid another bad break up with the humans.
#humans are crazy#humans are space oddities#humans are weird#humans are space australians#humans are space orcs
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omg you should do a fic where the reader is dating some goody two shoes guy but is going behind his back and banging patrick and he catches them one day and idk maybe patrick clocks him or something idk
My sweet bean, I bring you the goods- and boy did it take a while to bring the goods, so I’m sorry about that!
Prompt Summarized: Reader cheats on her Good Guy BF with Patrick, and he catches them.
Word Count: +3,400
Warnings: Light sexual stuff, violence of the punchy and knifey kind. Studious!Reader.
Tagged: @dreamboathannah, @restoftheworldfallsaway @ghoulishtozier @itwasmathilda, @fangirlinganditswonders, @neoandersons, @basicwheeler, @leetime14, @passionfortrashin @nurserykryme @nonrelatableteen
(Anyone who wanted to be tagged for WYS automatically gets tagged for my other Patrick works as a bonus, my duderinos. Message me -through pm- if you want to also be tagged! Love y’all.)
Ryan Burns was perfect. He was the co-captain of the debate team, the fastest runner in track and field, he was tall and handsome with nearly angelic features. He was broad shouldered, carried a winning smile, with a mess of curly chocolate hair and flawless olive skin.
Your dad loved him, your mother adored him and invited him to dinner weekly. He walked you to class, held your hand, and pressed poliet kisses to your forehead. Ryan bought you cute little gifts, asked you to homecoming and stayed up to study with you for classes he didnt even have.
For christ sake, he was thinking of following you to USM for college just to be with you.
So why on earth where you tangled up in Patrick Hockstetter’s arms, hiding out in an equipment room?
Why were you pressed up against a wall with Derry’s worst filth, the boy who drew whispers where he stalked and tormented the innocent? Patrick was a nobody, a good-for-nothing drunk on perversions and reeking of cigarette smoke. He warranted fear, he practically breathed predatory flare as he hovered above the masses, and in all honesty- once he terrified you.
So why? Why there you there?
Because he was everything Ryan wasn’t, and he wanted you in a way Ryan couldn't dreamed of having you- and you wanted him back just as badly.
Patrick caught your attention maybe sophomore year. That was when he first found you, sitting in the library and working on a book report. He sat with you, threw a threatening arm across your shoulders and struck up casual (albeit antagonistic) conversation with you. Your responses were quick and to the point, too focused on your work to pay him too much attention.
He gave up before long, but returned the next day. And the next, and the next, continuing the habit until you didnt have another project to work on, so he started cornering you in hallways by your locker, or sitting with you at lunch. At first it was intrusive and stressful, having him follow you everywhere, but after a few weeks of pestering you his taunts become more playful and half-serious if anything, all the animosity dwindling away.
It wasn’t long before he became a comfortable weight on your shoulders, always there, ever watching.
You talked about school, music, books you enjoyed and how excited you were for college. He learned about your nuclear family composed of a housewife, a stock broker father, and your siblings, a golden older brother who could do no wrong and attention seeking younger brother with pestered the hell out of you. You walked with him to class, letting him copy your notes, and sometimes even let him drive you around Derry after classes were out.
Though Patrick had a more nihilistic process of thinking, you welcomed the change of pace compared to your other friends, who at this point, were worried about you. He talked about his friends, the latest movies to come out, girls he had slept with, and the crazy nights he had spent high and drunk running around Derry. He wasn’t too open about his family, but you had caught a few remarks about his mother who he at least seemed to favor over his father. Patrick dragged you to parties he was invited too, introduced you to his friends and urged them to welcome you with open arms. You had lost count of how many times Belch and you had piled Henry, Vic and your newest lanky companion into Amy after a particularly wild bonfire by the canalside.
So slowly, by the end of sophomore year, you two had become good friends. He was a dangerous individual, but somehow you two had been drawn together despite being polar opposites. You spent the following summer running with the Bowers Gang, while also juggling SAT study classes, church and AP assigned reading. Henry was a little rough around the edges, but warmed up to you fast, while Belch seemed relieved to finally have someone else to hang out with who wasn’t intent on getting fucked up at every party they attended. Vic was a little distant at first, but he quickly found a friend in you as you spent the summer discussing music, AP studies and colleges you hoped to get into. Patrick of course was in his own world, but dragged you by the wrist into it. The boys took you to movies, wild barn parties and drove you all around town, Vic and Patrick squishing you in the back of the blue Trans-Am while they shared a joint.
When junior year finally began you stayed at your old table with the friends you had accumulated through the years, and chatted nonsense with them. Once in a while you found yourself outside in the quad, eating lunch between Belch and Patrick while the boys laughed and joked about the latest thing they saw on TV or the fight they got into the day before. It became normal for you to hear about the nitty gritty reality outside Derry’s picturesque small town image, and you caught yourself wistfully wishing to hear more when you returned back to your table of tamer and more sensible friends. All they wanted to do was discuss the latest tests and boys they thought were cute, and for some reason you had never exactly seen what they saw. After all, any boys who approached you were almost instantly deterred by Patrick’s presence.
“He’s kinda like your guard dog.” your friend Casey had said one day at the table, and you rolled your eyes, Patrick absent from lunch on account of skipping the rest of the day past third period. He had left you a note in your locker, assuring you he’d be picking you up after classes were out to be dragged to another one of the parties and and the rest of the Bowers Gang had been invited to, no doubt to be his designated driver instead of Belch for the eighteenth time. “Patrick, I mean.”
“Patrick’s fucking creepy.” Britney agreed over her textbook, studying at the lunch table. “No offence.”
“Offence taken. He’s kind of my friend.” You shot her a dirty look, but moved your food around your plate, a little out of place without the scratch of Patrick’s callused fingertips brushing against your arms as he joked with you, always one to ignore the rest of the table and choosing to entertain you only.
“Guard dog.” Casey quipped, and you switched that glare to her, but knew she was right. Her eyes were elsewhere however, and there was a knowing smirk on her glossy lips. “With him here, no guys ever visit, and for once in your life, you need to take that chance, [First Name] and go talk to… Oh, I dont know, Ryan Burns?”
“Ryan?” You frowned, but felt a light tap on your shoulder.
You turned, and found those soft brown eyes and tanned skin, and that's where it all began- with Patrick’s absence and a chance for Ryan to cut in.
It had been so casual between you and Patrick, but then you started dating Ryan in junior year. That was when everything took a quick and drastic turn to ‘Oh Fuckville’. Moody and near cruel, Patrick’s visits became less and less frequent at the lunch tables, much to your friends excitement, but your disappointment.
Ryan never mentioned your old friend’s absence, or even his existence. He carried on, a muscular arm replacing Patrick’s over your shoulders as he dazzled all your friends and family with his brilliant smile and sweet ways. He pampered you, he loved you, and yet all you could do during your junior year was wistfully watch from afar as Patrick Hockstetter started dating Gretta Bowie.
You lost contact with Patrick, he barely registered you in the halls and he turned his back on you time and again when you made an effort to approach him. He was silent as the grave, and after a while, it became normal for you to to forget about him days at a time. Ryan replaced Patrick, slipping in your life like a well loved glove- all smiles and sweet nothings.
The Bowers Gang took a cold shoulder to you as well, though Belch and Vic seemed the most reluctant and you had caught them eyeing you once or twice, and received a tiny little wave in recognition.
Then it was senior year. You, the future valedictorian with a track star boyfriend and intent to get into college on a grant and perfect scholarship. Patrick, the resident bad boy with a handful of new piercings adorning his ears and a collection of tattoos on his pale skin, his cheerleader girlfriend worn on his arm but his eyes glazed with indifference.
December came, and so did the winter dance. Patrick wore a suit, you wore a dress, both of you took your dates and danced. Ryan was exhausting but adorable, Gretta must have been equally exhausting, but demanding and arrogant.
You crossed paths at the punch bar, never speaking, only looking. His eyes followed you when you brushed past, and for the first time in nearly a year you caught that familiar scent of cloves, cigarettes and patchouli.
January followed shortly, as well as deadlines for college applications. You found yourself in a familiar setting, Derry High’s library, when Patrick dropped down in a seat beside you.
“Heya, Princess.” He said, and you barely recognized the voice. It had deepened, what was once more nasally and condescending was richer and smooth now, and it made you grip your pen a little tighter.
“Hockstetter.” You said with little warmth, but hearing his voice, having his eyes on you, it made relief flow through you.
He watched you in silence while your pen traced your delicate handwriting, a hand resting on the wood table. The fingers had a few burns, a couple blisters as evidence of his after school activities, but they were still nimble and thin- new rings you had never seen before lining them.
You were alone in the library, free period for seniors usually spent in the quad by the cafeteria, or on the fields where your classmates could blow off some steam. Patrick would have normally been found in the parking lot, schmoozing Bowie in the back of his car or sneaking a drink from Vic’s flask while he and the other boys in the Bowers Gang stood around Belch’s blue Trans-Am.
But he was there, beside you, instead. A fact you couldn't ignore.
You sighed finally, dropping your pen and turning to face him, frown tight. “What do you want, Patrick?”
His lips tilted in an arrogant smirk, and he leaned back in his chair, lifting the front two feet in the air.
“Why? Bothered by me, Princess?”
You smacked a hand on his knee, bringing his fun to an abrupt halt and slamming the chair back down. You weren’t going to play his games, and you were in no mood to amuse him. He had dropped off the face of the planet, and ignored you for months. He had no right to walk back into your life as if he did nothing wrong.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Patrick.” You met his gaze, and caught how his jaw tightened and his eyes flashed. Your power move had grabbed his attention, and possibly not in a good way.
“Why so serious, [First Name]?” He had the audacity to keep the smirk, and you tore your hand from him.
“Fuck off.” You snapped, and to his surprise, you began to pack your supplies up. You threw your essays in a folder and shoved them in your backpack, standing. Patrick hurried to do the same, and snagged your wrist.
“Dont walk away from me, [Last Name].” He hissed, and when you attempted to wretch your wrist away, he applied a bruising grip.
“Let me go, or I swear to go I’ll scream.” You threatened, curling your trapped hand into a fist. You barely felt them, but the tears began to form. Your shoulders tensed, and Patrick caught every little attempt you made to hold back from showing the emotions that stirred inside.
“You swear? Do you really?” He brought a hand to your shoulder, and you shivered as it slid up your neck, caressing the line of your jaw before he captured your chin in a tight hold and tugged you forward.
He was inches from you, breathing warm breath that smelt of cigarettes and mint gum, with an almost adoring look in his eyes. They searched yours, and you made a move to speak, but he shushed you.
“Because I’ve wanted you to scream for me for years now, Princess.”
Patrick brought you into a rough kiss, tugging you from sight and leading you behind bookshelves, dropping his hold from your wrist to hook his arm around your waist and keep you close. The kiss burned through you, and there was no hesitation when you kissed back. Ryan forgotten, your friends tossed behind. All you cared about was keeping Patrick’s attention on you, his hands on your body and mouth on your lips.
He parted your lips, drawing a barely there moan from you. You tilted your head, gaining a new angle to kiss him, bringing hands to wind into his long strands and pull him closer. The kiss was wet, sloppy, desperate- but it was everything in that moment. He bit at your bottom lip, and you dragged nails across his scalp, grinding against his hips and forcing him to give a rough groan when you felt a hardness between his legs grow.
You broke from him then, dizzy from lack of air and a rush of excitement tainting your ability to think straight. Patrick pressed practiced kisses down your neck, scraping teeth against the skin but knowing better than to leave marks.
“Patrick…” You murmured his name, earning a rake of his fingers across the side of your waist, which only served you to press harder against him. “Patrick, stop. Someone will see.”
He snaked his arm tighter against you, and quietly rapsed against your skin. “Equipment room, tomorrow. During free period.”
Patrick nipped your neck affectionately, parting from you and slinking away as if he hadn’t just shared a breath taking kiss with you and left you yearning for more.
That first day in the equipment room was absolute bliss. You remembered bare arching backs, sweaty limbs and desperate kisses that made your lungs burn as he held you against the cool painted cement walls and drew moan after moan out of you. They continued at a weekly occurrence, your extracurricular activities unknown to Gretta Bowie or Ryan.
This time was no different, and you hooked fingers into his belt loops during a heavy and needy kiss, wordlessly begging for the article of clothing to come off. Tangled in your arms, he bit at your lip, letting out a breathy little chuckle before reaching down and tugging at the hem of your sweater.
“Take this off first, Princess. Then we have a deal. Let me see what you’ve got on today.” He slipped a hand under the soft stitching, humming as he did so.
“Why do I always have to strip first?” You asked with a quiet laugh, obeying him and crossing your arms over your torso and dragging the sweater off in a fluid motion. His tongue wetted his lips, eyes lazily raking down what you offered as he let out a slow breath.
“Wish you would let me mark you. All this skin,” Patrick drifted fingertips across your stomach, appreciating the blissfully clear skin under his touch. He wouldn't say it out loud, but you knew he worried that every time the two of you found each other in the equipment room that you would finally arrive one day showcasing red and purple love bites from someone else. “All bare for me, its a fucking tease, Princess.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but stopped short when the equipment room’s door handle jiggled and twisted, unlocking. It was thrown open ion one fluid motion, and through the single bulb that lit the room, you saw the face of your boyfriend standing in the doorway. Angelic features froze, and Ryan’s expression leaned from anguished to mortified. You saw the heartbreak in his eyes, and you dug sharp nails into Patrick’s upper arms, your shock evident.
“Awkward.” Patrick said with little emotion, but you were quick to catch the careful calculation working behind his eyes.
Nobody moved. Everyone was statue still.
And then all hell broke loose.
Ryan hurled himself at Patrick, a first raised and his speed almost inhuman. Patrick pushed off from you, easily avoiding the hit that was thrown at him, just barely hitting a shelf of equipment and forcing him to sidestep the shelving and round the track star.
“You fucking asshole.” Ryan seethed, his breathing just angry pants and shoulders quivering. “You had Bowie. You could have any fucking girl here, why the fuck did you after my girl?”
Ryan grabbed air, missing Patrick again, who snorted an incredulous laugh. You snatched your sweater off the floor, pulling it over your head and keeping close to the brick wall, unsure of what to do in the tiny room with two wound up boys both itching to fight.
“She was mine well before she was yours, Burns.” Patrick taunted with a sneer, and he dug into the back of his pocket, procuring a folded blade, which he unfurled with ease. There was a glitter of malevolence behind those grey-green eyes of his, and something told you that if the fight was to continue, that Ryan would end up with a permanent jokers smile.
Ryan launched forward, and Patrick ripped his shoulder to the side, throwing him up against the wall opposite to you, the blade at his pulse. Ryan struggled for a moment, the knife breaking skin as beads of red appeared, and Patrick pressed his other arm across the tan skinned boys chest, holding him there. Ryan rolled his tongue, inhaling sharply and then spitting in the dark haired boys face.
“Fuck you, Hockstetter.”
Patrick rubbed the spit from his cheek, snarling and pressing Ryan hard against the wall. “You’re gonna regret that, Burns.”
You watched, heart nearly stopping as Patrick ripped the hand with the knife back, using the blunt of his knuckles to wail a precise punch against Ryan’s jaw. He cried out, and the air whistled as Patrick applied blow after blow, the hits landing against Ryan’s chin, cheekbones, nose and mouth. The knife threatened to cut skin as Patrick succumbed to his anger, and you tore yourself from your stupor to shout.
“Patrick!” You screamed, and you saw how the aforementioned boys shoulders tensed, actions frozen in time. “Dont.”
Ryan tried to push off from Patrick’s grip, but he was held there with ease, and the lankier boy glanced over his shoulder. His knife glinted in the light, the edge just barely tinged red as it hovered ever so close to Ryan’s face.
“So what then Princess?” He asked, and you noticed the way his jaw tightened. “Your move.”
“Why?” Ryan suddenly said, in an almost pleading sort of way. The betrayal was clear, and the guilt pulled at your heartstrings as you advanced quickly, refusing to meet his eyes.
“I loved you.” Your boyfriend said as you rested a hand on the arm that Patrick held a knife in. “I was gonna go to state with you, babe.”
“Patrick.” Softly, you urged him to drop his hold. He hesitated, and you saw the deliberation in his eyes.
Finally, with Ryan allowing a few tears fall, Patrick skillfully whipped his knife into dormancy, stuffing it into his back pocket and stepping back to let his grip slacken. Ryan fell to the concrete floor, and he raised a hand to gingerly touch his bruised and split lip, his eyes stuck on you.
“Why?” He repeated.
You refused to answer, taking a grip to Patrick’s arm and tugging at it. “Come on.”
He turned to follow you, taking quick steps to the door before he whipped his head back, and you saw the smugness in the highlights of his face, lips quirking into an arrogant smirk. “If you see Bowie ‘round, be a pal and tell her we’re over, Burns.”
Patrick let you lead him out out of the equipment room, a euphoric glow to his expression as he followed you down the halls. There was silence between you, and before you made it to the end of the hall and out the doors that led to the fields, he threw an arm over your shoulders and dragged you close- the familiarity of his touch the only thing that grounded you in that moment.
#patrick hockstetter#Patrick Hocksetter / Reader#We dont deserve Ryan#He was too good to us#OC: Ryan Burns#Studious!Reader#the bowers gang#IT (2017)#it reader insert#Imagines#God this was looooong#Violece#Knifey#Punchy#Patrick is Mr. Steal Ya Gurl
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can i do my own insurance repairs
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can i do my own insurance repairs
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A gift for @geeky-afakasi with help from @beamthechao who inspired this fantastic chinera ant au💖💖
The sound of designer heels, an expensive pair that was most likely studded in rivers of diamonds and hugged by velvet and gold, clicks against the marble floors. It was amazing how a sound so mundane, so everyday, could be the cause of such chaos in a professional, well known, multi million dollar company.
Now it wasn’t rare to hear a pair of heels bang against smooth tile (seeing how most of the women and few men preferred the footwear), but it was sharp tack tack tack, followed by the smell of roses that alerted most of the employees that the queen had made her appearance.
The Queen, better known as the CEO of chimera communications and technology, rarely visited head office. The queen was a figure head. An older woman with warm brown skin and large oval eyes, her locks lay hidden by a dark red hijab that covered silver hair which would give away her age. She was someone who made her way across the world with her hand picked team, cutting deals, and sometimes cutting throats when it came to hard business (all for a good cause, however).
There was no one in the world who could rival the empire she has built after the death of her late spouse, a cruel man who had given her nothing more than the one son who shared his facial characteristics, and had instantly become the woman’s pride and joy.
Being a single mother running a huge corporation had not been easy, but her employees were treated like family and as the company grew so did the bond between them
To the Queen’s right was Colt, walking in pace but always a step behind. He was one of the first men to be hired to work for the chimeras, his fierce ambition and sense of loyalty making him one of three executives in the entire company. With dark hair and sharp eyes, he always dressed professionally, his suit bearing tiny wings on the cufflinks as his one name brand element. He had coined the line himself, but always kept the chimera business dear to his heart, even as he travelled overseas with the queen to meet with other potential companies that they could overtake.
“There are exactly fifty four hours and twenty seven minutes before our plane to yorknew is due to leave.” Colt says with a firmness that would be appalling to most, but to the queen, it was a tone bearing utmost respect. “Once we land from our detour in NGL we will be greeted by the head of the Zodiac corporation. Netero will be providing our rooms and dinner reservations, as per agreement.”
“Make a note of it to have my things sent over from NGL to yorknew via private blimp.” She says swiftly, eyes running over the doors of offices where employees had pressed their faces against the glass in hopes of getting a view of the woman who had started it all.
“I will make a note of it and send the message directly later today.” Colt hums, his leather briefcase brushing against his thigh before someone darted into the hallway from seemingly nowhere, their blond hair flowing around them before being followed by a long silky black scarf and a whirlwind of glitter.
Glancing back at Pouf, the head of the financial division and the backbone of this locations funds (as well as a full time stick in the mud), Colt wasn’t surprised to see the man flustered. Colt had spent many months training with the blond, sometimes their ideas conflicting, until the rare moment where they made a earth shaking breakthrough together. When the queen had asked who would join her overseas, and who would manage head office (because it was only Pouf and Colt who she felt confident in placing this responsibility on), Pouf had been the one to lose the opportunity to be at her side, and was left behind.
Later Colt had learned Pouf had given up the chance so Colt could take it.
Although Colt didn’t exactly get along with the man, they had learned to accept and trust the other, but it amused Colt greatly at how flustered Pouf always seemed to be.
Pouf, with a clipboard and pen in hand, could not fathom the possibility of having overlooked this moment. Having Colt walk in suddenly would have been nothing to fret over. All Pouf needed to do was show some case files of their work stats and offer the man some black tea. But seeing the queen was often a blessing and a curse, as any employer would be.
Hearing chatter break out in the hallways they passed, Pouf could only hope to smother this tension over and lead the guests to his own office as he informed the buildings head of the affairs taking place.
“Madam president, your arrival is earlier than noted. I didn’t have time to prepare the paperwork or speak to the other department heads or even-” Pouf is cut off as the woman smiles at him.
“What did I say about you calling me madam president? I may be in my fifties but I’m not that old. Please, feel free to call me something less formal. Mother perhaps?” She chuckles as Pouf latches to her side, following her through the main lobby, “now, what are the numbers for this quadrant?” she asks, her tone shifting to one more appropriate for business.
“Twelve percent with an estimated point three gross over the next four months.” Pouf says proudly, his sharp eyes darting around the room in a panic, knowing what kind of insolent staff the building had and how lenient this divisions boss was. He wasn’t sure (or more like, he was very sure how afraid he was) of how the queen was going to react.
“And how is the department running, Pouf?” he jumps the the question he automatically dreaded, “has everything been going smoothly?” the woman prompts.
“Of course!” Pouf blurts out, lying being his first thought, “business is booming and the clients are all happy!”
“Fantastic, and what of the staff?”
Pouf winces a moment and shivers when Colts eyes focus on him, before glancing down at the butterfly wing charm on poufs collar, a product from Colts “wing” line.
“Absolutely amazing. The security is talented and have stopped all issues before they have time to unfold, especially from outside sources. Our scientists are busily working away on new creative, and very, very safe products for our consumers to buy into for the purpose of better communications. Our HR lead is one of the most positive and uplifting, provide amazing customer service and helping our staff with their personal qualms. Our head receptionist holds this family together, always working hard to keep everything in order. Ah, and the sales staff we have are not only respectful, but positively professional. We have three experts for our Public relations team who focus directly on branding our image with the goal of not only creating public events but also placing an emphasis on community. Our building manager is very active in taking care of any safety issues, as well as tending to the many plants we have in place to make a more positive environment. Our financial lead is like a caring father, who also manages to keep all the books updated weekly with our numbers. And of course, the department head and future CEO of the company has been the best, most supportive of leaders. We have no complaints about his ability.”
The Queen pauses and turns places a hand on Poufs arm, smiling in that ever so sweet way she did, reassuring him that his words were taken for face value and that she did not, even for a second, doubt him. It was that look that gave pouf severe guilt, because he knew. oh hell did he know that every word was just as far from the truth as it could be.
“With a staff like this im sure all has been going well,” she says firmly, turning around and continuing deeper into the building towards the cubicles in the open work space.
D A N G E R. The word flashes through Poufs mind, and Colt picks up on the sudden tension.
In seconds a large man with a suit as dark as his hair approaches, a finger to his ear as he starts speaking, his name tag reading Youpi, along with chief of security.
“Take the suspect to the west wing for investigation under clause 330 B, subsection c for trespassing.” Youpi says into his ear piece, before looking to Pouf who was trying yo subtly tell him to shut up. “It appears that NGL representatives have been protesting our use of technology again and this is the third break in this week at ground level. Bloster has apprehended the men and is now-”
“This is a situation we can easily deal with!” Pouf grimaces as he speaks as the queen continues to walk, listening to Youpi give his report as they enter what could only be a mess hall.
Passing the front desk for HR, sitting with his feet up talking away was Welfin, a tall, slender man with sharp eyes who had on a headset. Pouf could only hope the man was being civil.
“You think that’s a problem? Hell, you dont even know what a real trauma is. Seeing someone fight isn’t worthy of a sick leave, the hell.” Welfin barks up, leaning back in his chair, “you should see what I have to deal with here. One word, Zazan! I should be getting a four day weekend for putting up with her shit! Oh hell, Pouf!” Welfin hangs up and tosses the headset aside as he stands, following the group, not sure who the woman or the stiff were, but not caring in the slightest. “So that vacation I asked for, ya know the time off for next week, seeing how I’ve dealt with-”
Pouf feels his eyes roll back into his head as he resists grabbing Welfin and choking the man, all while youpi is still rambling about broken codes.
“I assure you we have the best staff,” Pouf raises his voice, gawking as Leol, Flutter, and Hina appear with huge posters and rave lights. Leol, tall and bulky in a band t-shirt, raises a hand at Pouf. Flutter, with his head of wiry hair, glances over Hina’s head, the petite woman jumping up excitably as the three rush over. Leol, as head of marketing, would often place up ads on buildings while Flutter would focus on anything skyward like blimps and billboards, while Hina dealt with television and radio ads.
“Pouf, bud!” Leol grins, the three joining the group, “we got everything we need for the sponsor party. Even sick music by Morel the euro god-”
“Great snacks and lots of booze!” Hina chimes in while raising a bottle of champagne as well as a few glow sticks.
“The entertainment will be showing up in a few hours,” Flutter buzzes, “we brought in quality chefs as well. The zodiacs have received their invites.
Trying to catch his breath, Pouf begs for it to stop. “We do not hold parties. We are professionals!”
“We decided to hire the dancers too,” Leol continues.
“I’m thinking two weeks is a little short, and I’ve been feeling under the weather so maybe three would suffice,” Welfin strokes his chin
“There has also been twelve incidents regarding broken office supplies that we are still in the process of replacing after last years incident,” Youpi rambles.
The group come across the secretary’s desk near the back of the large room, where the curly haired Zazan sits painting her nails, looking annoyed as a smirking, energetic man talks at her.
Spotting Pouf, Zazan grabs her nail filer and points it at him, “I do not get paid enough to deal with cheetu so you better get him the hell out of my face or so help me I’ll file for harassment!” she snarls, joining the group and listing everything Cheetu had done to annoy her.
“Our secretary is a loving, and respectable human being.” Pouf grits out, feeling Colts eyes bore into his back.
Cheetu, with zeal, heads to the front of the group, walking backwards with a grin as he waves for Poufs attention. The blond pales and his nails dig into his clipboard, his head shaking as in no, Cheetu, shut your damn mouth.
“Okay great! Listen up to my new pitch!” Cheetu clears his throat, his salesperson representative self coming out, “Tired? Tired of technology running slow? Don’t you wish you could talk faster? Don’t you wish you could talk so fast that you would be abletotalktoeveryoneallthe-” Cheetus rambling becomes too quick and excited to understand and pouf is dying.
The queen makes it into the science sector and slowly Pouf whispers oh no as the sound of an explosion occurs, before a slight smoke makes its way out of the door. No one is phased as a woman with white curly hair throws herself out of the room her white medical lab coat a little singed.
“That was a rush hell yea!” she coughs and notices the group, and leaps at pouf, “the new coolant adhesive is almost done! We’re making it less flammable but hell does it have a kick! It’s amazing! I’ve never seen subject 2I9H 3000 react so fiverantly, there have only been four explosions this week!”
Youpi taps his earpiece, “Pitou again. Send men to clean up. Extinguishers needed.”
“The vacation will help me relax and be a better HR lead! Come on, Pouf!”
“These explosions are horrible for my headaches, especially when dealing with idiots!” Zazan whines
“Ya know if the budget was increased we could totally bring in a sick bartender, like the phantom troupe are an A-class party must have, right Flutter?”
“Talk all the time with chimera communications! never stop! Never stop talking just keep taking always-”
“Ya know, with this experiment almost done, if i reversed the polarity I could probably make the adhesive into a bomb-”
“Dont!” Pouf yells over the chatter, “absolutely do not! Remove the thought from your mind!”
Pitou sulks as a new voice enters the fray, a short, bulky man with wise eyes and a beak nose. In his hands were slips of gray paper, and on his chest was a name tag reading Peggy, finance. Around his neck was a lanyard that held every nerdy button the man could get his hands on. Some like “checkmate for the king,” or “like a good friend chimera com is there,” and “edgar allen poe before hoes.”
“I’m glad you’re all here, because it’s pay day!” Peggy grunts out, and cheers amble around as the man hands out slips, watching them get tucked into pockets and shirts, or ripped open fiercely. “Now for this next trimester we need to cut back on some staff funds, and unfortunately that’s the amount of coffee we are buying each week.”
Zazan gawks as she stares at the man, “you monster!”
“Peggy are you insane? We all practically live off coffee,” Welfin shoves past Leol and Flutter, grabbing onto Peggy in disgust. “If I’m not able to make a coffee every two hours, I’ll die. Straight up. I might as well go on sick leave because I won’t be able to function.”
Cheetu nods his head vigorously, “how do you think i get to be the way I am? You think I’m always energetic! Nah! we need our espressos!”
Youpi side eyes the man and mutters under his breath, “he shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near caffeine”
“You’re not the boss of me!” Cheetu yelps, puffing out his chest.
Pouf steps between them and lifts the clipboard in front of cheetus face, “under a general consensus you will be provided only with decaf and you will accept it without complaint! We don’t need anymore incidents like last year-” Pouf gawks as the words slip out
Colt narrows his eyes as he places a hand on Poufs shoulder, “please elaborate.”
A collective breath moves through the group, almost as if there was the presence of a monster amongst them. Pouf could only cower, hoping someone else would step in so he wouldn’t have to.
“Rammot,” Zazan swirls the name in her mouth and grimaces, “that was the worst month, thank god he gone.”
“He was a menace,” Youpi murmurs, “theft, blackmail, slander, assault…”
“And a rude, ugly man to boot.” Hina murmurs, shaking a glow stick vigorously. “And the things he would wear around the office should have been enough of a crime to get him arrested!”
Leol rubs his chin, “I heard he went to jail for killing a man.”
Cheetu nods, “That doesn’t surprise me! What a creep! He punched me once!”
“He spit in my coffee,” Welfin bares his teeth.
Pitou cracks a knuckle, “I was tempted to kill him one time. Try experiment 541 on him.”
The Queen blinks back her surprise as a yell breaks the chatter of the group from the other side of the hall. A balky man with pierced eyebrows and long hair runs towards the group, almost at a gallop. Some could say that the man was horse like in his demeanor; although he lacked any grace and came off as a beast (who was into some questionable kinks, the other employees had unfortunately come to learn). Zazan and Cheetu grimace and step against the walls, knowing that the man with the snake tongue, Yunju, was bound to make a messy entrance.
In his hands he carried a large box, his two assistants (both thin and lean, sticking to Yunju as if they were mosquitoes) carried their own boxes.
Now Pouf wasn’t sure what Yunju did. He was…usually just there, with his vulgar mouth and that damn split tongue, which was pierced seeing how it made a clink as it touched his teeth as he spoke.
Part of Pouf wanted to say that Yunju had been hired to be a health rep, although it seemed like hell of a mistake on their hiring department if they did that. Perhaps Yunju was the hiring department. What a nightmare.
“Nyaa, the chief of privacy,” Pitou whines, looking at Youpi, who technically was the chief of security but never used the title, meaning he and Yunji should have been partners at least. It never happened.
Pouf pales, shocked that he had forgotten that this monster of a man was responsible for all their personal issues and privacy, especially from having their identities safe from being revealed online. Anti technology protesters had been getting more violent with each year
“Got the stuff!” Yunju smirks, spotting Colt, a new face in the crowd, “and a catch.”
Colt gives him a piercing glare, not interested in the man’s advances. Leol and Hina hoot and holler as they leap towards the box, only to have Youpi intervene.
Only now did it come to everyone’s realization that they had been chatting and yelling in front of a large oak door, the only in a long hallway. No one could remember when the tile floors had become carpet, or when the lights had become tinted red, or that it was silent in this sector. Candles and roses sit on their perches, and a glass wall sits opposite to the door, delicate but deadly looking fish filling the space.
Standing on a stool, with their back turned to the crowd, is Kite. Short, lanky, silent at most times, quietly feed the fish. Feeling eyes on their back; they which was covered in long white hair which he occasionally dyed red, he peers over to the crowd.
Despite taking up the role of gardener, and in charge of health and safety, kite was also the third executive of the company.
“Mother,” Kite says lowly, stepping down from the stool. Pouf had almost forgotten Kite was the Queens adopted child.
Behind the large oak doors would be the future CEO of the company, the lead of the entire building. A man who was young, yet notable in his early 20s. He had been a child genius, and eager to learn all from his many tutors. The future ceo was a terrifying and gifted man.
As the doors were thrown open, everyone in the hallway held their breath as Meruem appeared, silent, somber, his dark hair covering his forehead, his eyes looking sharp with pointed eyeliner and his purple contacts.
“What is the meaning of this noise?” Meruem asks, voice soft and yet almost sultry
Pouf hesitates and tries to work up the courage to offer an explanation, a reason, something to ease the heavy, smoggy tension.
“We….They…The Queen-” Pouf almost curses himself as tears spring to his eyes. How could he explain the motive behind the horrible staff. Everyone had left their posts! All they did was argue! Or fight! Or try to blow things up! Godawful, good for nothing trouble makers! Everyone here, and the queen had watched it all.
Meruem shifts his glance to the queen instead, slightly shocked.”Mother, Pouf did not inform me of your attendance.”
Pouf pales at the mention of his name, positive he was going to lose his damn job.
“I am sure you know why I came,” the woman says lowly, stepping forward to tower over the short man. “To see how you have run my company. To see your employees and their capabilities. To see if you are willing to inherit the CEO title when you turn 25…and to wish you a happy twenty third birthday.” she smiles, breaking from her facade.
Party poppers explode and balloons escape from the box Yunju was carrying. Ikalgo and Melodeon, two delivery boys, ran in with champagne, and cheering radiated through the hallway. Pouf, very quickly realized, this whole thing has been a set up.
“Lighten up pouf! It was fun wasn’t it!” Pitou hoots as glasses are passed around as a cake is brought into meruems office.
“Happy birthday!” is yelled out, and meruem feels his face flush as he beams at the gesture.
To be so loved by his family and company was a true blessing, Meruem realized, lost in a sea of voices. Despite being thankful, meruem knew that one day he would have that special someone here with him, to meet his mother and coworkers. But for now, Meruem would enjoy the impromptu party.
And pouf? Pouf would be fine
Well, after he stopped crying tears of relief that is
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The Far-Out Summit Where Geniuses Learn to Build Starships
To get to the spaceship convention I have to go to Chattanooga. To a former train depot once called Terminal Station, a beaux-arts building downtown, which was built in a time when trains were the apex of industrythe smartest, fastest, most high-tech way to move through spaceand when stations were elegant ports of call. It has a soaring dome, and the bathrooms are naturally lit through stained glass.
Terminal Station closed in 1970, not quite a year after Apollo 11 landed on the Moon. The building reopened in 1973, four months after the Apollo program ended, as the Chattanooga Choo Choo Hotel. The new owners put a neon train on the roof, the concourse beneath the freestanding dome became a lobby, and the baggage room became a dining hall. Passenger cars were moored to the rails and refurbished as luxury suites. The iron horse engine became a thing for guests to climb aboard forselfies. The outbuildings and rail yards sprouteda gift shop, a pizza parlor, a comedy club, an indoor jungle-themed swimming pool, and an outdoor doughnut-shaped swimming pool, among other things.
Chattanooga is not quite the regional transportation hub it was in the latter golden age of rail travel, and in fact these days is kind of a pain in the ass to get to. So after 12hours of planes, delays, and courtesy shuttles, I drop my baggage in my room and go looking for a drink.
Philip Lubin, a UC Santa Barbara physicist, begins his plenary talkRoadmap to Interstellar Flightby announcing that he rarely goes to these kinds of conferences because they are too far on the imaginary axis for me. But Lubin has a plan for launching vehicles from Earth that would reach Alpha Centauri not in 30,000 years but in 20.
Heres what you need: an orbital laser, a small satellite equipped with a square meter of reflective sail, and the sun. Superefficient solar panels power the laser, which can fire the equivalent of about one-eighth the amount of electricity the US consumes each year. That dense stream of photons creates enough pressure against the sail to accelerate the craft to 100 million miles per hourone fifth the speed of light.
Which at first sounds pretty bullshitty. Laser sails? But nobody in this lecture hall full of no-bullshitters snorts. So keep listening: A single photon exerts an infinitesimal amount of force. Cant get much much delta-vee from that. But a lot of photons pushing against a very tiny spacecraft? That will give you a whole hell of a lot of delta-freaking-vee. Which is why Lubin spends a lot of his stage time talking about Moores law, the exponential rate at which computers get simultaneously faster and cheaper over time. His plan requires fully functioning satellitesprocessors, camera, nav, comms, and even a tiny propulsion unit for course adjustmentsweighing less than a gram.
Oh, and a really big laser. Throttling a wafersat up to 100 million miles per hour will take a 100-gigawatt laser array. Or, for the no-bullshit, build-it-with-todays-technologyby strapping together 100 million 1-kilowatt lasers.
The plan has technical hurdles. During the Q&A after the talk, astrophysicist (and third TVIW cofounder) Greg Matloff raises objections about how the Doppler effect will sap photons propulsive force. But for the most part, the plan uses existing or close-enough technology and is therefore very non-bullshit until you start talking price.
A 1-kilowatt laser retails for about $70. Even if you get the bulk discount for buying 100 million of them, you still have to put them in orbit. Current launch rate is about $3,000 a pound. Also, the solar panels that will power the thing are very expensive (and heavy). The whole apparatus could be anywhere from three to 10 square miles across. For comparison, the International Space Station is slightly bigger than a football field.
Lubins talk pisses off a lot of people. Hes up there onstage, basically telling them their ideas for fusion, matter-antimatter, and whatever else are too expensive, too slow, and too imaginary for interstellar travel in this lifetime. Oh, also, dont bother building a worldship or whatever, because the human body is 99 percent wasted mass. Sorry.
Philip Lubin (left) discusses beamed energy propulsion during aworking track following his plenary speech about beamed energy propulsion. Joey O’Loughlin
But then, a little more than a month after the TVIW talk, Russian billionaire Yuri Milner announces that he plans to seed Lubins idea with $100 million. Thats not Apollo money$200 billion in 2016 dollarsbut Milner also scales back some of Lubins ideas. (He grounds the laser, eliminating a lot of the launch costs). Milner tells me he expects the $100 million will buy the project a proof-of-concept. The complete 100-million-mph mission to Alpha Centauri will likely cost between $5 billion (one Large Hadron Collider) and $10 billion (A James Webb Space Telescopeplus two New Horizons).
If you want to send people to space, propulsion is the least of your problems. It’s not as hard as food, water, and not catching space madness.
Again, that is for a mission with no people. The price tag for a crewed mission to the stars is Apollo squared. Maybe even cubed. Who knows. But despite Lubins ambivalence toward crewed interstellar flight and Milners low investment relative to the goal, this proof-of-concept pushes the humans a little bit closer toward being an interstellar species.
And if you are talking about people, propulsion is probably the easiest problem to solve, spacewise. Even if your sub-bullshit interstellar engine runs on nuclear fusion (which no one knows how to build) fueled by helium-3 from Jupiters atmosphere (which no one knows how to harvest), learning how to create such a thing is still not as hard as feeding, hydrating, protecting from radiation, keeping sane, and otherwise keeping healthy multiple generations of human beings. But thats what you have to do if youre using a sub-bullshit engine to go to another star.
Amodel worldship discussed at TVIW would carry about 10,000 people.Michel Lamontagne
The Worldship
Imagine a rod over 9 miles long, maybe a quarter-mile wide. Now put 12 rings around it, each 3miles in diameter, attached to the central rod with spokes. Spin the wheels to simulate gravity. Thats a generation ship, designed to spend hundreds or thousands of years traveling between star systems. A worldship.
Theres a picture of that one taped to awall ina meeting room at the Chattanooga Choo Choos convention center. The room is temporary headquarters for the Worldship Working Track, an effort to add a little bit of variety to TVIWs propulsion-heavy diet. The dozen and a half worldshippers are split into two subgroups, each gathered around their own round banquet tables covered with laptops, spiral notebooks, elbows, and soda cans.
On a large, easeled, tearaway pad in the middle of the room, somebody on the worldship team has drawn a color-coded cross section of the rings. From outside in: a one-meter-thick structural shell; three meters of two-phase water to shield against radiation; varying thicknesses of substrate, rock, and soil; 500-meter air gap; clear ceiling; and about 2 kilometers of vacuum between the ceiling and central hub.
The worldship rings could replicate any Earthly climate by adjustingheat and precipitation.Michel Lamontagne
The climate subgroup of worldshippers ishuddled over a single laptop, working on the rain problem. A French-Canadian engineer named Michel Lamontagne tells me planet Earth has the best plumbing system in the universe. Solar energy heats moisture, moisture rises, cools, condenses, falls, wash, rinse, repeat. Figuring out the thermodynamics of cloud formation is a pain in the ass, but way more reliable in the long run. No pipes to clog, filters to foul, screws to strip, vents to dent, valves to rust. Maintenance is not just a hassle; any mission-critical system with an abundance of moving parts is bound to failcriticallyat some stage of a multigenerational interstellar mission. Plus, rain helps keep the dust down.
Worldship passengers: cockroaches, dogs, Maine coon cats, rats, crickets, and tarantulas. But nothing from Australia. Everything there wants to kill you.
How much energy does moist ground need for evaporation to occur? On Earth, insolation is about 1200 watts per square meter, Lamontagne says.
Actually, 164 watts per square meter is the day/night average for Earths energy, says Geoffrey Landis, a NASA physicist (and science fiction writer).
Wait, Landis says. Actually, the Earths surface is convex, so it doesnt absorb as much heat. The worldships rings will be concave, meaning energy absorption will be a lot higher. So for now, they figure, 240 watts per square meter.
The subgroup around the other table is figuring out life: flora, fauna, and the nutrient cycles that sustain them. This group is more crowded, but quieter. Three are working out the carbon, nitrogen, and phosphorous cycles. Each of the remaining has been assigned a batch of plants and animals by an evolutionary biologist from Sloan-Kettering Memorial Hospital named Cassidy Cobbs. She is the groups Noah.
Mosquitoes, no; cockroaches, yes. Wolves, no; dogs, yes. Rats, crickets, tarantulas: yes, yes, yes. Except no tarantulas from Australia. In fact, most of Australia is right out, doomed to remain Earthbound with everything else too venomous, fanged, large, or aggressive. The top predator is a Maine Coon cat, Cobbs says. Crops are exactly what you would expect: grains, legumes, tubers, brassicas, lettuces, and nightshades.
I peek over Cobbs shoulder at her master list and freak out a little bit. It includes neither cacao nor coffee plants. Who the hell would want to jump on a spaceship without coffee and chocolate? Later, in the hospitality suite, I corner one of Cobbs team members and ask her: What the hell?
We discussed both crops, Ashleigh Hughes, a high school student, assures me. Both plants could grow along a rings elevated ridges, so long as that ring has a tropical climate.
High school student and TVIW attendee Ashleigh Hughes works out the ecological requirements for various plants and animals in the worldship. Joey O’Loughlin
The table next to the biology group is unpeopled, covered with backpacks, open laptops, and a few books. Includinga copy of Kim Stanley Robinsons novel Aurora. Which I find a little bit surprising, given (no spoilers) Robinsons book about a worldship trip to the Tau Ceti system portrays interstellar missions as dismal and doomed.
Science fiction and space culture enjoy a mutualistic relationship. During presentations, speakers often preface digressions with phases like This next bit would be a cool idea for any science fiction writers in the audience to play with Every physicist, engineer, and enthusiast I spoke to said their career had been, and still is, inspired by books, TV shows, movies, comics about space travel. The physicist Les Johnson, who MCd the talks, is deputy director of NASAs Advanced Concepts Office, principal investigator of a solar-sailed probe set to explore an asteroid in 2018, and, yes, a sci-fi writer. He told me science fiction is part escapism, part aspiration, and part inspiration, bringing broader acceptance to the dream of exploring the stars. Preach.
(I should add that not everybody agrees with this notion of science fiction as an aspirational genre. My editor sees science fiction as primarily a fantastical lens for writers to comment on contemporary society. I posed this alternative hypothesis to science fiction author Jack McDevitt, who counterposited that my editor must have been an English major.)
The Bernal Sphere is a spaceship design with a spherical living area. Population: 10,000. NASA Ames Research Center
It will cost how much?
One night I asked a table full of engineers if they could foresee an inflection point when the relatively flat line of space funding would start arcing into a trajectory that could fund human interstellar flight. This group, which earlier had been holding a graduate-level discussion on the combustive properties of superchilled rocket fuel, basically shrugged. Maybe if there was an impending asteroid strike?
Finally, a retired nuclear engineer sitting across the table uncrossed his arms and growled. Let us make the assumption that we do go into space and build a habitat. If you go back in time from that point and look at a line leading back to the present, we are currently so close to zero that they wont know where to start the graph, he says. $20 billion, $50 billion a year is so far down the graph that its almost in the noise. We have to somehow generate ourselves off the zero point.
No one knows what it’ll take to convince human beings to pay for space.
Robert Kennedy III has thought a lot about this inflection point. He says it will come from a societal change, when a critical mass of people commit themselves to a sustained, multigeneration, self-perpetuating institution committed to the cause. Something like the Catholic Church, or maybe because this is an engineering problem, the Dutch dike builders.
Robert Kennedy III.Joey O’Loughlin
Kennedy III was born in Staten Island and spent his college years in California preparing for the Cold War to become a hot war (he still carries a nuclear effects calculator in his right breast pocket). After stints building robots that work in nuclear reactors, writing computer code, and advising the US House of Representatives on space, he wound up in Oak Ridge, where he consults large renewable energy projectslike an Ethiopian geothermal tap. He also owns a business that publishes media on Russian space technology.
One of Kennedy IIIs coauthored geoengineering ideasa brute-force fix to global warming that involves installing a gigantic shade at the Lagrange point between Earth and the sungot him an invitation to the the International Association of Astronautics Symposium of Realistic Near-Term Advanced Scientific Space Missions. Doesnt matter; point is, it was a conference in the Italian Alps. The crowd loved the presentation and especially applauded the plans practicality. (Practicality among engineers typically refers to the soundness of the underlying engineering, not cost or logistics).
After his talk, Kennedy III was standing on a hotel balcony with Les Johnson and astrophysicist Greg Matloff from the New York City College of Technology. They hit upon this idea of a practical, grounded space community based in the Tennessee Valley, and scheduled the first meeting. They have been meeting every 18 months or so since. The group takes the practicality thing seriously and submits its projects (such as the worldship) to peer-reviewed publications like the Journal of the British Interplanetary Society.
So they do not become a ghetto of insular rocket dweebs, Kennedy III tries to invite younger people, and people from other disciplinesbiologists, chemists, philosophers. Various subcultures who want to get into space, they might do some original thinking on their own, but then what? Whats their next step? Kennedy III says. If you want to actually do something you have to generate a consensus.
One very early morning, or night, or, whatever, it is 2 am in the hospitality suite and Kennedy III is trying to explain the origins of TVIW over the sound of two guys playing space-themed country songs on acoustic guitar (Shes Nothing But Trouble, Shes Just Like Tea-Teb”). Anyway, space culture can be sectarian, or it has been in the past, says Kennedy III. Just about every space group from the 1960s onward has been reaching for the heavens. Their ideologies might have differed. Like, space should be free from the government, so lets cut NASA out of the deal. Or, space should be for whoever can get there first, so lets help out the Soviets. Or, space should be for those who deserve it, so lets build a Randian refuge up in Lagrange Point 5. The groups form and schism, and never really get anywhere. TVIW is trying to stay outside all of that. They just want to go to space.
Two members of the space solar power working track discuss a timetable for launching an interstellar probe.Joey O’Loughlin
No-Go for Liftoff
The evening of the Tennessee Valley Interstellar Workshops opening reception, attendees gather around a projection TV in the corner of a hotel party hall to watch a SpaceX launch livestream.
Customary silence at the one minute mark, then the 10-second countdown, and then the top-down camera angle shows a series of fiery bursts. Before I can begin holding my breath for liftoff, a space enthusiast in the back of the room named Lorraine Glenn pipes up.That doesnt look good. That does not look good. Thats three in a row,” and the room collectively sighs. The chatter comes back up, and even as I am still thinking this launch looks promising, the guy next to me explains that the launch is cancelled, probably because SpaceX couldnt get their oxygen chilled properly. But he cant be sure, so dont quote him on the record.
Except he was right. No-go for liftoff. Problem with the liquid oxygen. Space: still hard.
Les Johnson giving opening remarks at TVIW. Joey O’Loughlin
And the next morning I am up by 7 am and eat a mountain of Southern breakfast and hustle to the big lecture hall for the 8 am opening remarks. Johnsongets up onstage and gives his customary disclaimer. Yes, he is an employee of NASA, but today he is here as a private citizen and space enthusiast who took vacation from his job to attend.
He stands in behind a podium decorated with the Tennessee Valley Interstellar Workshop star-and-rocket swoosh logo and gives a shout out to the Valley Conservancy of Huntsville, Alabama, whose performance of the Tennessee Valley Interstellar Workshop orchestral theme music had been playing just before he took the stage.
Then he thanks the volunteers and points out that even they did not get a free ride to the TVIW, because this is a labor of love. Peoples chairs squeak because they are nodding along or maybe just reaching for their coffee mugs, but either way Johnson is on message. This is a room of people dedicated to a better future for our species and our planet, and he is so proud to be a part of what is contributing to that. It is all a part of the bigger goal: to be, simply, a footnote.
That is all most of these people want, really. Forget even being retconned into the decor like the trains next door. They just want to be in the references, a TVIW journal article buried in the citations of a boring history of a human colony on a distant planet, circling a distant star. Someday.
Multiple two-cylinder colonies aimed toward the sun. Population: over a million.
NASA Ames Research Center
Read more: http://ift.tt/2cTUPkq
from The Far-Out Summit Where Geniuses Learn to Build Starships
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