#but I'm happy the waste of oxygen is finally locked up

[kiradrinkalot]

So yesterday I found out from a guy who is a full time hoarder, part time delivery guy for the post I now work at and basicaly my neighbor that my last surviving grandfather is no longer alive and that his and my late grandmas sad excuse for a by-product of a son and sadly the donnor of half the needed biological material to make me is in jail.

Considering my cousin is dating a woman bit older than him and doesn't want kids and I don't either... the only one who could could continue the bloodline is my younger stepbrother... but he doesn't even share his last name.

This bloodline ends with us

[drstonetrivia]

Chapter 224 Trivia

Happy birthday Senku! He's finally in space! 🎉🚀

We can see the approximate distance to Treasure Island from the mainland in this shot, the only other indication of where the island is is in the (non-canon) Reboot side story. My guess is the exact island used is Aogashima.

Another summary of the journey, this time including prehistory. We have depictions from the most recent ice age (though could be later, mammoths and sinomegaceros were around for a while afterwards, even in Japan), early civilization similar to Ishigami Village, and ancient Rome.

For the parts present in the manga itself, I've added the chapter numbers to each of the panels.

The books Senku has here are "General Chemistry" and "たのしい 科学" ("Fun Science"). The latter may be a reference to a children's science education book series named "たのしい! 科学のふしぎ なぜ?どうして?" ("Fun! The Mysteries of Science: Why? How?").

We get a glimpse of the docking system here. Possibly based off the SSVP, as it was used with almost all the Soyuz craft and Russian space stations to connect modules.

This docking area then opens up, becoming the transfer tunnel so astronauts can enter/exit.

I suppose the astronauts were completely naked in their space suits so that when the revival fluid is released, their skin will definitely get touched?

I can't think of any other reason for it, but it does make the previous chapter funnier.

Senku's petrification scars are now fully healed!

(Stanley's are too, poor Xeno is the only one with them now.)

The mystery of how Stanley is meant to use these "cigarettes" remains.

These belts are the middle part of the external space suit, so it's probably how the top and bottom parts are locked in. After they change, they tighten the fabric inside so that it stays attached to them.

I'm not entirely sure why they need it, since current space suits usually just attach the top to the bottom directly.

They're using both CRT and LCD screens. My guess is the LCDs are more convenient (it's easier to display things from computer->LCD than it is to a CRT, also text is more legible due to the pixels), but they still have several CRTs from earlier so they may as well use them too.

Stanley asks about their oxygen supply, meaning they may be limited until the rocket is assembled. Normally, there's recycling systems onboard to collect waste products and convert it into clean air or water, but Stanley and Xeno's discussion makes me think they don't have one.

Obviously, the astronauts have new outfits, but they don't seem to follow any previous astronaut outfits depicted in the series.

Senku's popped collar is still present, but now he lacks his signature equation.

Stanley's outfit changed the least, it remains form-fitting and solid black, with white gloves.

Oddly, Kohaku is still wearing a dress in space, but it's a lot neater and more modern than her previous roughly-hemmed one. She's also got both long socks and boots without a heel.

The spray dryer does a similar preservation process to what they did when freeze-drying ramen, however this process is better for foods (and pharmaceuticals) that are sensitive to temperature.

Here, they dry a liquid (like ramen broth) using a hot gas, turning it into a powder.

In true Francois fashion, the ramen packets made by them contain more meat and garnishes than the ones Byakuya ate. They're also visibly more delicious-looking.

Without regular boosts, the ISS would fall to Earth in around 6 months, however this number can vary a lot depending on atmospheric conditions and the relative angle/position of the ISS to the direction of travel.

Basically, unless someone/something continued to control it almost immediately, the ISS is definitely gone.

(Rei didn't, the Reboot isn't canon.)

[rattyoakenbitch]

❝𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝❞ ─ 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

oh, you're cold as ice, baby. i don't wanna fight, baby. it's like i told you; if you stay, i'll stay

❥ content ; gn reader, angst, happy ending

❥ warnings ; toxicity, drinking, strong language, big but legal age gap, steamy makeout session

❥ synopsis ; after a series of stressful events, you find yourself drinking again. unfortunately, so does spencer.

❥ a/n ; none !

With a heavy, bone-tired sigh, Spencer stepped out of the elevator, making a beeline towards his apartment. He stopped outside the door, bringing his hand to his head. He ran it through his long, textured waves, his fingers getting stuck at the strands tangled together.

Spencer stayed like that, nervously idling outside his apartment. The apartment he shared with you.

Spencer had traveled to California for a case with his team prior. It had been days, if not a week since he had actually seen or talked to you. The day of his departure, you weren't exactly on the best of terms.

You loved Spencer. You didn't doubt it for a second. You would have left him long ago if you didn't. Still, your relationship wasn't perfect. You were both very different, career wise. You were an aspiring photographer, and worked at a local coffee shop on the side. Spencer worked at the BAU. Very different. You had just graduated from college when you met Spencer, and, despite the fact that he was almost ten years older, you hit it off and eventually began dating. Though your messy, inconsistent schedules got in the way of any quality time you could spend together, neither of you decided to go your seperate ways. You didn't want to. You were stubborn. So was Spencer. Not because he was desperate. Hell, he didn't even need to try to get girls. He was practically a pussy magnet.

But he chose you. And you chose him. Because you were both in love. Real love, and that's rare.

It still didn't change the fact that you were bothered by Spencer's lack of presence. You openly voiced your frustration over it several times, but you eventually learned to accept that your relationship would never be normal like that. As long as there were bad guys fucking shit up, Spencer would have no time being lovey-dovey.

Which is why Spencer felt uneasy, afraid of what he'd find at the other side of the door. Would you still greet him with open arms? Or would you shun him?

Well, you did neither.

Your eyes were glued to the screen in front of you, but you weren't mentally present. Which is also why you didn't notice Spencer walk in, his jaw hanging open.

The first thing he noticed were the crushed up cans dumped across the floor, along with broken glass bottles, identical to the one you held in your hand.

The apartment was void of any light, save for the dim illumination the TV screen emitted. Spencer almost didn't notice you in the darkness. You were curled up on the corner of the couch, your eyes, again, never once leaving the screen. Of course, the TV didn't provide enough light for Spencer to make out any your features, but he knew it was you.

"Y-You're drinking again?!" was the first thing Spencer could blurt out, his mind racing with thoughts. You jumped up from your spot on the couch, your heartbeat speeding up at the abrupt noise. You clumsily leaned over to the side table, switching on the lamp. The sudden brightness stung, causing tears to well in your bloodshot eyes.

"Ah - shit," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. "Hello to you, too. I didn't even hear you come in."

"No, you didn't! What is all this?! What-" Spencer was at a loss for words. He scanned you from head to toe, not believing his eyes. Your hair was unkempt, to put it lightly. The dark circles under your tired eyes seemed to have become a deeper shade since the last time he had seen. Your lips were chapped, but wet with alcohol that also stained your clothes.

"Why?" was all Spencer managed to get out.

You shrugged your shoulders. "Dunno, got a little lonely and bored.." If it weren't for the alcohol, you don't know if you'd be able to remain calm in a situation like this.

"God! You could have stayed with family - I don't know! Just look at the place! Have you even left the apartment at all?"

"How can I stay with family when my only family is states away and constantly traveling?!" you finally snapped angrily.

"Is this what this is about?" Spencer said softly, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. He looked away from your hard stare, afraid of the guilt he'd feel.

You stuck out your bottom lip in a mocking pout. "Figure it out, genius boy."

"Watch it," Spencer snapped, but you merely rolled your eyes at him.

"You're not my dad. You're barely a boyfriend! You don't order me around," you sneered, watching a flash of pain spread across Spencer's face. But he was quick to compose himself, playing the calm, peace maker.

"Look, we can discuss this tomorrow when we're both rested and sober."

"Oh, really? The last time we made plans, you had to leave. It's all you know."

"Well what do you want me to do?! Do you want me to quit my job?!"

"I don't know, Spencer! I don't know anything, anymore!" you shouted back. Your head began to spin, tears blurring your vision and then you were on the floor, drunkenly grabbing at the air for support. Spencer rushed to your side, attempting to help, only for you to shove him back, harder than you probably intended. Now you were both a mess on the floor, crying and mumbling curses.

Spencer crawled towards you, clasping your hand in his. "Let me help, sweetheart. S'all I wanna do."

"I don't need your damn help," you scowled, hot tears still spilling down your flushed cheeks. You placed your free hand on his chest, but didn't try pushing him away. "I don't want it.. And I don't want you."

Spencer felt his heart ache at the statement, but he knew it was a lie. A facade.

"I know you don't mean that."

"Well you didn't mean it when you said 'I love you' so I guess we're both liars," you scoffed pitifully.

"I meant it, Y/N, and you know it." You remained silent. "I love you. I really do."

"No, just shut up and this'll be easier."

Tired of your attitude, Spencer gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at him, your glossy eyes locking with his deep browns.

"Dammit, Y/N, listen to me. I love you, so, so much, that I will put up with your stubborn attitude that I hate so much, because deep down, I know you're the biggest softie. And you love me, too, no matter what you say to get me to believe you don't."

"I don't love you." Lies. "I wish I never met you."

Spencer pressed his forehead against yours, nearly headbutting you with the sudden action. His lips just barely brushed against yours, and you could feel his hot breath fan your face.

"Don't you lie to me."

"I'm not lying. I hate you. I fucking loathe you, Spencer Reid."

"Then why haven't you backed away?" he whispered, his voice laced with hope.

Silence.

"Answer m-"

Just like that, your lips were on his, roughly claiming them while effectively shutting him up. Spencer didn't waste a second kissing you back, returning the same roughness. He slipped his tongue past your bottom lip, tasting the bitter alcohol that tainted them. You let out a quiet moan, hoping, just hoping he didn't hear. But of course he did, and that only encouraged him. He wrapped his arms around you desperately, trying to get as close to you as physically possible. Your bodies pressed up against each other perfectly, fitting together in all the right places and curves like a puzzle piece, made for each other.

And this is where you belonged, tangled up in your lover's arms. You didn't want to part. More than anything, you didn't want to break away. But eventually you had to, your lungs suddenly feeling tight with lack of oxygen.

You buried your head in the crook of Spencer's neck, sobbing out.

"God, I've missed you so much. Please don't leave me again. I love you so much, Spencer." You repeated it like a mantra, afraid Spencer would disappear into thin air if you stopped.

Spencer rubbed circles on your back comfortingly. "Shh, baby, I'm right here. I won't leave. I'm sorry. I love you so much," he cooed. "We'll be okay."

[im-a-goner-foryou]

Starker Valentine's Day 2019 for the prompt 'first I love you's ', this is also my first songfic so please go easy on me

Love

/lʌv/

Wise men say only fools rush in

Tony Stark doesn't do love. He's a mechanic, through and through-- he sees things as they are, for their practical uses, views the world through a rational lens, and love is something entirely illogical.

Love, as Tony had been taught all those years ago, is something that if he can't help but feel, at least shouldn't be expressed. To wear your emotions on your sleeve is to admit weakness, as Howard had said-- or rather slurred while waving off Tony's attempt at a goodnight hug in favour of pouring himself another glass of bourbon, and after much more similar occurrences the he eventually took his father's words to heart.

It takes a while for Tony to realise otherwise, to go from instinctively recoiling from the look of concern in Rhodey's eyes as he chides "go to sleep Tones, it's late" or a gentle caress of his head from Pepper, to slowly but surely welcoming those silent acts of love; and it takes longer before he begins to reciprocate. Even then he's hesitant, cautious as he takes his first steps and reverting back to his signature snark at the first sign of apathy, the possibility of being hurt.

Tony loves carefully.

But I can't help falling in love with you

Then he meets Peter Parker-- who loves so openly, so easily. And their differences should frighten Tony, yet inexplicably he finds himself drawn to this boy who's much too young to realise that while falling in love may be easy, love itself certainly isn't. It's... a nice change, being around someone so artlessly candid-- maybe, just maybe-- Tony hopes silently to himself, he won't have to hide behind his usual four walled defences this time against such genuine feelings.

Shall I stay?

The first time Peter raises his voice at him is to cry "if you even cared, you'd actually be here," and just like that Tony's taken back to all those years ago, in his MIT graduation gown and around the same age Peter is now; hand clutched tightly around his phone with Howard on the other end while he stood lonesome among celebrating families. That memory stings like a slap would, leaves Tony feeling almost raw-- and when he steps out of his armour there on the rooftop, he feels more vulnerable than he ever has been.

"I just wanted to be like you," the boy whispers quiet enough for his words to be almost blown away with the wind, and it's like a sucker punch to Tony's stomach.

"I wanted you to be better," Tony simply replies Peter-- and himself.

Would it be a sin

Tony feels the beginnings of a wave of butterflies erupting in his stomach as he watches the boy leave the Avengers compound, and he feels sick. Peter's hazel hair glints gold under the sunlight streaming through the panelled windows and curls sweetly around his ears; and Tony has to resist the sudden and overwhelming urge that overtakes him then to run his fingers through those silky locks.

If I can't help falling in love with you?

Peter is sixteen. Tony starts drinking himself to sleep once more, yet the bottles of liquor lying shattered around him and burning bitter at the back of his throat aren't enough to block out the yearning deep in him for the boy, to hold him close and keep him far away at the same time. Tony thinks of bright eyes that crinkle at the edges with laughter and beautiful chocolate-brown pupils, and then one day he just can't deny the feelings he harbours for his young protégé any longer.

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Peter always has been incredibly perceptive; it's likely he found out how Tony felt even before Tony himself. On his seventeenth birthday the man goes all out and is in one of the rare moments in his life grateful for the title 'billionare'-- he flies the both of them out to one of his favourite restaurants in Venice for a comfortable candlelit dinner by the canal; and when Peter dissolves into another one of that giggly laughter at something Tony said, the older man finds himself absolutely enthralled, unable to look away.

He's still staring at those pouty, rosy pink lips and wondering how they would feel against his, when he finds out only seconds later-- Peter makes the first move, leaning forward across their table to press their mouths together so painfully shy and sweet, and Tony--

Some things are meant to be

He kisses back, and feels the last of his fortifications crumble away at the happy little sigh Peter exhales into their joined mouths.

Take my hand, take my whole life too

For I can't help falling in love with you

Tony Stark soon learns about himself that he's really a hopeless fool for love, when it comes to a certain bright boy who easily keeps up with him in the workshop and challenges Tony with his brilliance every day, who reminds him to go to sleep early but also brings him hot chocolate during those particularly dark starless nights and kisses away his tears until they finally fall asleep tangled up together, who's also a dork when it comes to Star Wars and the Avengers, who has a heart filled to the brim and yet still manages to find the capacity, is unafraid to love some more.

It probably was never meant to last, the hurting eight-year-old in Tony reminds him.

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be

"There was no other way," Stephen's parting words hang heavy in the still air; dimly Tony wishes the words were the ones disintegrating instead, his knees buckling underneath his weight even before he hears the soft whimper from behind him. No, no, no.

Not you, too.

Peter wastes his last few moments clutching at him desperately, and Tony just wants to cry because there's nothing he can do, and he's never felt so utterly helpless as he does in this moment. "I don't-- I don't know what's happening," the boy rasps, the usual bright undertones of his voice now longer present and only to be replaced with something raw and hurting; it's now does it finally occur to Tony that maybe he's not the only one who puts on a mask.

"I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go..." Peter begs almost childishly, his extreme youth so incredibly obvious now. Tony grips him by the waist, holds him close and cradles him through it, which is the least he can do-- the only thing he can do. The eerie golden light setting across this strange planet casts shadows on those beautiful eyes, swimming with tears as they look at Tony in a way only the boy could.

"I'm sorry," are the last words Peter whispers--why, why?-- before slipping away from Tony's arms and leaving behind a mere empty shell of a broken man.

Tony realises he's never said those three little words to Peter, even though their months together; he never gasped the significance of "I love you" until he thinks he'll never be able to say it.

Take my hand, take my whole life too

"I'm sorry," are the words that replay like a broken recorder in his dying mind, plauging him the most when Tony sits alone on that barren planet and ignores the warning signals from the spaceship that oxygen levels are running low. I'm sorry, too.

But with those oxygen-deprived hallucinations come memories too; of them both dancing in the corner of one of Tony's fancy fundraisers, the boy's arms clinging around his shoulders and head resting on his chest as they sway to the soft music in the background, of Peter falling asleep at the desk after working hard on a particularly difficult assignment and Tony draping a blanket over him, of late drives down the highway in a convertible so Peter's yells of joy fade away into the night, of waking up in the morning to the smell of coffee and the sight of Peter in a flowery pink apron bustling around the kitchen, and Tony walking up to him to whirl him around by a hand on his hip to kiss him soft and sweet.

Through his entire life, there's only one person that Tony's certain he's ever loved the most he could. And now Tony tries his best to bring him back.

It's a long arduous process for sure, but Tony after all, is a mechanic through and through. He fixes the spaceship to send him and Nebula to earth, and he defends it just like he always has-- he fights, mind clinging to thoughts of Peter; just in case he doesn't make it, he wants that endlessly loving gaze to be the last thing he sees.

They win in the end, and bring all the fallen back. Even as Tony stumbles weakly onto his feet he ignores the burning sharp pain at his side, heart racing, eyes already blurring with tears-- though despite them he still manages to catch sight of those chestnut brown wide eyes among the others, and he doesn't hesitate. Tony sprints towards and holds a weeping Peter close to his chest, clutching at him with the intention of never letting go; his heart aches with a feeling that he welcomes readily, croaks into the boy's ear.

"I love you." He fiercely kisses Peter; the boy sobs harder in his arms. "I love you," Tony finally expresses plainly, against the palm pressed reverently against his lips.

For I can't help falling in love with you

And Peter says it back, the way every single part of Tony knew he would. "I love you too."

Love, Tony Stark knows, is illogical. It hurts, and yet people still chase it so eagerly.

But love is worth it.

For I can't help falling in love with you