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nemobeatrice · 11 months ago

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The Golden Miners - Chapter 11: The Pink Guy

If you want to reblog the GIF without the fic, reblog this.

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Fugo woke up in his room and was about to get dressed when he saw a note on the floor near the door. It was from Giorno, saying that his dad found a house nearby. It had the address on it, too. Great, he thought, we can visit each other without driving. The note also said he wasn't here and he'd be helping unpack all day.

Okay, so Giorno wasn't going to be here. Fugo can survive. Good thing he's friends with Narancia. He texted him and waited for a reply. Usually, Narancia replied right away, but he was taking his sweet time. Well, he needed to change his clothes. However, he received nothing from his best friend after changing.

Something probably occupied Narancia's attention. For now, he got on his computer, having YouTube and Tumblr open on two different tabs. Then his phone rang, but the caller was Trish. What did she want now?

"Yes?" Fugo answered.

"Hey, are we that pink-haired guy?" Trish asked. "You know, Doppio?"

It all came back to him now. "Oh yeah. Unfortunately, Giorno isn't able to help. He moved into one of the houses here."

"Oh, well, at least Mista's replying to our text now."

Fugo had managed to see Mista's texts but was too tired to read them. He checked it now, and Mista left apologies for being unresponsive.

"So, about this search, why did you call me to help find—what's his name—Doppio?" he asked.

"Well, Mista said you're the smartest person. He'd figure you'd track him down. Go on, Google him."

Fugo rolled his eyes and did as she commanded. "Ugh, I keep getting places of coffee shops. Do we have any more details about this guy? I need to know if Doppio is his first or last name. Also, the exact city he resides in would be nice."

"How am I supposed to know that?"

"This is your problem."

He heard her sigh. "Okay, then let's ask Mista. He knows Prosciutto, who knows Risotto, who knows Doppio."

"Alright, then call him."

"Ugh, you're supposed to be the information gatherer. Fine, well, Narancia's angry with you."

"Uh-huh, sure."

Trish sighed. "And I'm angry too. But, unlike Narancia, I'm angry with both you and Giorno. You guys are rich enough to go to Disneyland and should've invited us."

"Why are you mad at us? We can't just ask for a bunch of money from our parents!"

"You're right! I hate your parents. Yeah, and even Giorno's dad!"

"Hold on. Can we get back on topic? If that's true, why would Narancia be mad at me?"

"I'll tell you if you give me the information I need."

"Ugh, fine! I'll call Mista." Fugo hung up on Trish and called Mista. "Hey, are you there, Mista? I need you to help me out with something."

"Oh, Fugo. It's you," Mista said, sounding depressed. "Sorry for not answering your calls and texts. I made everyone worry, didn't I?"

"Yeah." Formaggio was right. Prosciutto must've broken up with him. He wasn't sure how to approach this and was nervous. "Could you tell me about any of Prosciutto's friends?"

"Oh, sure." Mista sighed. "Formaggio seems alright. He's in a relationship with Illuso, a stuck-up prick. Pesci is Prosciutto's ugly little friend. He creeps me out. Melone's hot, but I think Ghiaccio, some guy who reminds me of you, is dating him. Then there's Prosciutto's boyfriend, Risotto. Not going to lie, he's hot as fuck. I guess I shouldn't be so upset he broke up with me. I would, too. I can't tell who's hotter, him or Giorno's dad."

Fugo almost barfed. "Um, could you tell me more about Risotto?"

"Did you and Giorno get into a fight or something? Risotto is a little too old for you."

"What? No! Oh my god! Just tell me about Doppio, the guy he was dating!"

"Sheesh, don't get your panties twisted! I met up with Doppio—oh, that's his last name, by the way—and he tried to get with me. Before I could agree, I asked him for his age, and he said he was 33. Dude looked like he had just turned 18! What the hell kind of anti-aging cream does he use? It's probably expensive. I turned him down. He seems high-end."

"What's his first name?" Fugo sounded impatient.

"Vinegar. Yeah, strange, I know. Hey, don't you find it's weird how we're named after food?"

Fugo ignored his question and searched Doppio, finding zero results. He used other search engines, and still nothing. "Does Doppio live in Italy?"

"Yeah, I assume somewhere in Sardinia. He sounds like he's from there. Why?"

"Ah, it's nothing. Where is Doppio usually? Do you have his contact information?"

"Sorry, but I don't know where you can find him, and he didn't give me his contact info."

"That's fine. Later." Fugo sighed and hung up on Mista. He dialed Trish, and she answered. "I need to confirm something. Your mother met your dad in Sardinia, right?"

"Yes, Costa Smeralda, to be exact," she answered. "Did you find him?"

"Not exactly. I can't find where he lives. His name is Vinegar Doppio, and he's 33. Mista assumed he lived in Sardinia. That's it. That's all the information I have."

"Thanks." Trish sighed. "I don't know what to do. How will I find him?"

"I would've told you if I knew that. You're going to do this by yourself."

"Except I'm not going to do this by myself. Besides, Narancia wants to help, and I think you guys need to fix what's going on between you two. This might be a great way, and Narancia isn't smart. He'll need all the help he can get. Let's—"

"Now, hold on!" an angered Fugo interrupted. "Narancia may be bad at math, but that does not mean he's a burden to the search!"

"You're right. I'm sorry. Let's meet at the beach. It's not too hot to go on a search."

Everyone except for Giorno was at the beach. Narancia didn't seem too happy with Fugo and tried to wedge Mista between them.

"Alright, everyone," Trish started, "Doppio isn't here, so we'll search all of Naples for hints or clues. Now, we'll split the group into two. I'll be with Sheila while you boys do whatever you do."

"I may not be the smartest," Narancia said. "But I won't be an issue. Do I need Fugo with me?"

Before Trish could answer, Fugo glared at him and interrupted. "If there's something you want to say, say it."

"We're going to go now," Trish said, taking Sheila by the hand and running away."

"Wait!" Mista was about to go after them but stopped, looking at his two friends arguing. "Hey, can we work together?"

"Did you enjoy the beach without us, Fugo?" Narancia questioned.

"I wished you joined us, but you just had to play Just Dance for hours!" yelled Fugo.

"You would've joined us if you weren't Giorno's little bitch!"

"Excuse me?"

"You've been spending so much time with Giorno that you've ignored us! Right, Mista?"

"Do I have to answer that? Could we please find Trish's dad?" Mista avoided.

"Ugh! Whatever. I supposed we should head to Risotto's house." Narancia took out his phone and typed away. Fugo caught a glimpse of Risotto's address in the Google results.

"How'd you know how to search for people's addresses?" Fugo asked.

"My Twitch chat told me one time. When you were off having fun at Disneyland without us, Formaggio doxxed me."

"I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, whatever. I know where Risotto lives. Hmm, this neighborhood isn't so friendly. Luckily, I know friends who live there."

"Oh, those questionable friends who abandoned you?"

"Shut up!" Narancia threw a punch at him, but Mista gripped his arm before it made contact with Fugo's face.

"Stop, guys!" Mista separated them. "We're making a scene here. You're going to get the cops on us. Cool it! If we're lucky, Abbacchio might show up. Do you guys want to be lectured by him?"

"No," the boys answered.

Narancia sighed. "Let's just get this over with. Don't talk to anyone in this neighborhood. I hope Trish and Sheila don't follow us. I heard a few horror stories. You guys watch the news, right? Sometimes, the newscaster would talk about how bad it's over there."

"I hardly watch the news," Mista said, "but I got it. I brought a gun with me, just in case. Prosciutto gifted me his revolver." He let them have a peek at it before putting it away.

"Mista, I never asked if you're alright after the breakup. I'm sorry. Are you broken up with him?"

"I'm a little sad, but I'll be fine." Then he blushed. "Besides, I want to look at Risotto again, hehe!"

"The neighborhood isn't far. That must be why Risotto took Doppio here." Narancia grinned at Fugo. "Wow, you took Giorno near a dangerous neighborhood and didn't know? That's not like you."

Fugo clenched his fists. "Enough! Let's go."

The walk wasn't far. Fugo had never noticed the tall, grungy apartments because cleaner and well-maintained buildings hid them. New graffiti overlapped with the faded and ugly ones. Some were almost washed away. As for the people, unsavory people watched the boys. Fugo felt like someone was watching them and got closer to Narancia, but the black-haired boy coldly shoved him away.

"Dude, hug Mista. He's the one with the gun," Narancia whispered.

"Don't worry, Fugo. We're almost there," Mista said.

He wanted to look back to see if they were following, but Mista checked for him.

"Hey, you alright?" he whispered to him.

"Yeah, I think I'm just paranoid," Fugo answered, continuing to whisper.

"Can't blame you. You may be loaded, but you dress badly."

"Now that I think about it, I think I'm safe. You guys spend your allowance on expensive clothing."

"Seriously? Shit, no wonder why I felt eyes on me!" Mista panicked, no longer whispering.

"Mista, calm down!" Narancia ordered. He pulled out his pocket knife. "Where's Risotto's apartment number? If you guys are going to be pussies about this, I'm going by myself."

"And leave you by yourself?" Fugo said. "No."

"Quit pretending you care about me."

"Shut up!" Mista demanded. "We're near his home. Quiet!"

They stopped near a door. Fugo noticed signs of a break-in and some dried blood on the door frame. He moved the welcome mat, which covered more blood.

"I'm scared," Fugo admitted.

Risotto opened the door. He was tall and looked unamused. It seemed his presence intimated Narancia, seeing as he dropped his knife and bumped into Fugo.

"Mista?" Risotto spoke, and the two boys noticed their friend blushing furiously. "Who are these two?"

"H-hi! Um, do you know where Doppio is?" Mista asked.

"He went to meet a blond guy he met this morning. I don't know who. And before you ask Mista, it's not Prosciutto. He's with me."

"He's here? Um, do you guys want company?"

"Mista!" The two boys jabbed his stomach.

"Ouch! Okay, do you know this blond guy?"

"No," Risotto answered. "But I've seen him. He's the toughest guy I've ever seen. And before you go, I think that guy might be a tourist."

Before he could close the door, Mista put his foot in the doorway. "Do you have his number, Twitter, anything?"

"Doppio's tough to contact. He'll contact you when he wants to. Can you leave?"

Mista unlocked the door and left the neighborhood with his friends.

"So, all we have is a mysterious blond guy," Narancia said.

"And he's buff," Mista added.

"Don't tell me who I think it is," Fugo said. He got his phone out and called Giorno. "Hey, GioGio, what's your dad doing currently?"

"I'm not sure," Giorno answered. "I finished unpacking, but he wasn't helping me. Instead, he enlisted an army of his friends to help. It's ridiculous! Also, I have no idea where my mother is. Should I text him?"

"Yes."

"Okay, hold on. I just texted him. I'm waiting for a reply. Is there a reason why you need him?"

"Remember that pink-haired guy we saw at the beach? We might think he's Trish's dad and might be with your dad."

"Her dad with my dad? What do you mean?"

"Dating. They're together. That's what Risotto's saying."

"No, that can't be. My dad is with my mother. They're out there somewhere doing something." Fugo heard the doorbell ring through the phone. "Hold on. I think my dad is home. Hey, Dad, your friends— Oh no. Um, where's Mother? You broke up with her? Is that why you brought home this guy?" It sounded like Giorno was moving. "Hey, babe, you need to get over here."

"Thanks. I love you!" he said before hanging up. "Ugh, now I need to call Trish."

"Hey, I think I'll head home," Narancia said. Fugo knew him well enough to hear that sad tone in his voice.

"Hey, Narancia, I'm sorry for fighting with you."

He sighed. "I just want to be alone right now."

Fugo looked at Mista, hoping he'd know what's up. He didn't. They let Narancia walk away.

The four of them arrived at Giorno's house around 1 PM. Fugo rang the doorbell. Hopefully, Giorno heard the door. It sounded like he was having a party.

"Do you think Giorno's got food?" Mista asked. "We haven't eaten lunch."

"Sorry, I guess I was so caught up trying to search for my dad," Trish apologized. "Hmm, don't you think it's strange how Giorno's dad had vacationed here for a week and already has a house here? Can he do that, Fugo?"

"Trust me. He can," Fugo replied. Someone like Dio, who lived for a long time, must have friends in high places. He wondered what he could get away with.

Giorno opened the door. "Oh, guys, you're here."

"You just moved in," Trish said. "How have you finished unpacking?"

"Well, my dad called his friends here. And no, they're not from Japan. They're from Egypt and the other parts of Europe. I think that Hol Horse guy is from America. I don't know. He has guns and kind of dresses like a cowboy, but enough about them. I saw that pink-haired guy with my dad. Follow me. Close the door."

Trish got inside first. Fugo closed the door once everyone was in.

"Dude, Narancia's room looks nicer than this," Mista commented, looking at the beer bottles on the floor. "Are you sure you've finished unpacking?"

"It wasn't like this," Giorno explained while walking to the room where Dio held the party. "It got rowdy so fast. But Trish, how do you know if Doppio is your dad?"

"Well, I had this feeling at the beach. Do you want to know what's funny? Formaggio thought Doppio was my brother. And I'm getting that feeling again. I may not trust Formaggio, but I do trust my gut."

"Hey, Trish," Sheila said. "Formaggio said Doppio is with Giorno's dad—Dio, right? Um, does that mean Giorno's kind of like a brother?"

Mista laughed. "Hehe, Giorno and Trish are step-siblings! Why do I find that strange?"

"Wouldn't my dad have to marry Dio for him to be my stepbrother?" Trish asked, looking at Fugo.

"I'm exhausted to answer this. We've had a long day and gone without lunch," Fugo replied.

"My dad ordered pizza," Giorno said. "It'll be here soon."

They reached the door. Giorno opened it, and once he did, everyone in the room looked at them. They were all adults except for one. As for Dio and Doppio, the pink-haired man sat on his lap, making out with the blond, who squeezed him tightly. They stopped, realizing the silence filling the room, and turned to face them.

"Aw, I thought the pizza was here," Doppio whined.

"Shh." Dio planted his finger on Doppio's tender lips. "That's just my son and his friends." He looked at them. "Giorno, I said this party was for grown-ups only."

They eyed the only teenager in the party. The teen had a beer bottle in his hand.

"Except him. He's an exception. He was basically a baby, haha!"

"Um," Trish spoke up, making eye contact with Doppio. She struggled to get the words out, but there were too many people. They all looked at her with piercing stares. "Never mind," she said before leaving.

"Was she talking to me?" Doppio asked.

The doorbell rang.

"Giorno, make sure the girl doesn't get the pizza. I don't want her to eat it," Dio said.

"She hates pizza," Sheila informed.

"Giorno, get the pizza. I'll take care of Trish," Fugo said.

Fugo rushed to Trish, finding her in a corner, curled up in a ball and trembling. "Are you alright?"

She jumped and turned around. "Oh my gosh! It's you! Sorry, you surprised me. Gees, there are so many adults in there. They don't need to hear my business, and seeing Dio make out with my dad was weird."

"Yeah, it's weird. Maybe you should confront him next time."

"How will we even know if there will be a next time? It seems impossible to contact him."

"You're right, and I don't think we can ask Dio. He doesn't like you, it seems."

The two heard Sheila's footsteps. "Sorry, I had a few words with Doppio. He says he finds it silly that you're his kid, but once I showed him a photo of your mother, he had a headache and went to the bathroom. I'd follow him, but Dio yelled at me. What do we do?"

Trish sighed. "Let's just go home. Turns out this was just a waste of time. Oh, and Fugo, before we go, are we streaming Minecraft tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but I feel Narancia is not on board," Fugo answered. "He's been hostile towards me."

Giorno held boxes of pizza stacked onto each other with a salad bowl on top and walked across the halls. "You guys hungry? We can't eat with the adults, but we can head to the dining room."

"Oh! A salad? Who ordered that?" Trish asked.

"Mariah did, but I don't think she'll mind if it disappeared." He smiled, handing her the bowl.

"Ah, you're the best!"

"Hey, where's Mista?" Fugo realized he disappeared again. "Don't tell me he's in the party room."

Sheila facepalmed. "He has to be. He's 18, isn't he? Giorno, get him out of there so we can eat with him."

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #giorno giovanna #pannacotta fugo #fugio #fugo x giorno #giorno x fugo #jjba fanfic #jjba fanfiction

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numetaljackdog · 2 years ago

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Top 100 favorite albums as of March 2023 (full list under cut)

1. Radiohead - Amnesiac

2. Linkin Park - Hybrid Theory (Bonus Edition)

3. Rina Sawayama - Sawayama (Deluxe Edition)

4. Black Dresses - Forget Your Own Face

5. 100 gecs - 10000 gecs

6. Laura Les - i just dont wanna name it anything with "beach" in the title

7. 100 gecs - 1000 gecs

8. Bring Me the Horizon - Sempiternal (Deluxe Edition)

9. Linkin Park - Meteora

10. Linkin Park - A Thousand Suns

11. System of a Down - Toxicity

12. Radiohead - Kid A

13. Toby Fox - UNDERTALE Soundtrack

14. Linkin Park - Reanimation

15. My Chemical Romance - The Black Parade / Living with Ghosts (The 10th Anniversary Edition)

16. Radiohead - OK Computer

17. Against Me! - Transgender Dysphoria Blues

18. Linkin Park - Minutes to Midnight (Deluxe Version)

19. 100 gecs - 100 gecs

20. My Chemical Romance - Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge

21. Laura Les - hello kitty skates to the fuckin CEMETARY

22. Torres - Silver Tongue

23. Left At London - t.i.a.p.f.y.h.

24. Nirvana - Nevermind (Deluxe Edition)

25. food house, Gupi & Fraxiom - Food House

26. Chevelle - Wonder What's Next (Expanded Edition)

27. Tallah - Matriphagy

28. Breaking Benjamin - Dear Agony

29. Motionless in White - Creatures (Deluxe Edition)

30. Limp Bizkit - Significant Other (Explicit Version)

31. Limp Bizkit - Three Dollar Bill, Y'all $

32. Ada Rook - UGLY DEATH NO REDEMPTION ANGEL CURSE I LOVE YOU

33. Laura Jane Grace - Stay Alive

34. Jethro Tull - Aqualung

35. Fontaines D.C. - Skinty Fia

36. BACKxWASH - HIS HAPPINESS SHALL COME FIRST EVEN THOUGH WE ARE SUFFERING

37. Bayside - Interrobang

38. Black Dresses - Forever In Your Heart

39. Three Days Grace - One-X

40. Sophie - Oil of Every Pearl's Un-Insides

41. 100 gecs - Snake Eyes

42. Linkin Park - Hybrid Theory EP

43. Kittie - Spit

44. BACKxWASH - I LIE HERE BURIED WITH MY RINGS AND MY DRESSES

45. Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here

46. Toby Fox - Deltarune Chapter 2 (Original Game Soundtrack)

47. Chongo - Mad Rat Monday

48. Nine Inch Nails - The Downward Spiral

49. Motionless in White - Infamous (Deluxe Edition)

50. Indigo Girls - Indigo Girls (Expanded Edition)

51. Talking Heads - Remain In Light (Deluxe Version)

52. My Chemical Romance - I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love

53. Spineshank - The Height of Callousness [Special Edition]

54. The Used - The Used

55. Linkin Park - Live in Texas

56. Baroness - Yellow & Green

57. Death Grips - The Money Store

58. Nirvana - In Utero - 20th Anniversary Remaster

59. Hozier - Wasteland, Baby!

60. Radiohead - In Rainbows

61. Bring Me the Horizon - There Is a Hell, Believe Me I've Seen It. There Is a Heaven, Let's Keep It a Secret

62. Three Days Grace - Human

63. Kendrick Lamar - To Pimp a Butterfly

64. Limp Bizkit - The Unquestionable Truth (Pt. 1)

65. Kate Bush - Hounds of Love (2018 Remaster)

66. Bring Me the Horizon - POST HUMAN: SURVIVAL HORROR

67. Bring Me the Horizon - That's The Spirit

68. Go! Child - Coffee And Ramen

69. Limp Bizkit - Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water

70. We Are The Union - Ordinary Life

71. Chevelle - This Type of Thinking (Could Do Us In)

72. Evanescence - Fallen

73. The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds

74. Jamie Paige - Bittersweet

75. Hayley Williams - Petals For Armor

76. Nirvana - Bleach

77. For the Likes of You - Withered

78. Bring Me the Horizon - Suicide Season Cut Up!

79. Lena Raine - Celeste (Original Soundtrack)

80. Holy Grail - Ride The Void

81. Tenacious D - The Pick of Destiny

82. a-ha - Scoundrel Days

83. Demon Hunter - Storm the Gates of Hell

84. Black Flag - Damaged

85. Masakazu Sugimori - Phoenix Wright - Ace Attorney OST

86. Kendrick Lamar - DAMN.

87. Alexisonfire - Crisis

88. Various Artists - Queen of the Damned

89. Limp Bizkit - Still Sucks

90. Alanis Morissette - Jagged Little Pill

91. Bob Dylan - Bob Dylan's Greatest Hits

92. Architects - Holy Hell

93. Laura Les - REMIXES 2017

94. Linkin Park - Living Things

95. brian david gilbert - songs with videos without videos

96. Frost Children - SPIRAL

97. Parkway Drive - Horizons

98. Limp Bizkit - Gold Cobra (Deluxe)

99. Various Artists - Phineas and Ferb

100. Vanilla Ice - Hard To Swallow

#it's silly but i'm kind of nervous about posting this #i do these every six months and i have like 3x as many followers now as i did in september......#everyone has to be niceys to me okay? i'm breakable 🥺#*char noises*#talking pop

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bomberqueen17 · 2 years ago

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pocket mans

so as you all know i got off a plane after midnight on thursday night / friday morning and spent several hours asleep, several more doing laundry and then found out i had to cross the state for a funeral. so things have been a mite hectic. i took the amtrak today, and the pokey mans were a lovely distraction for a bunch of it. i mostly couldn’t do much, of course, as PoGo is designed for walking and doesn’t work well at transit speeds, but I would occasionally check in-- here is a screenshot I took when I managed to stop laughing, of what it looked like as my little avatar sprinted madly across nothing in the backyards of the Utica/Rome region, because Pokemon Go’s maps don’t include trains so they had no idea how I was traveling at this speed not on a road.

cut for pictures

Note my hilarious totally-useless Magikarp buddy wildly trailing behind me, totally unable to keep up as I sprint at about 65 mph across this random open field. I tell you what, I could not stop laughing. [image description: a cartoon/computer game avatar of a skinny white woman in a straw hat and hiking boots {you don’t get to choose a body type beyond vaguely femme / vaguely masc, all thin} sprinting full tilt across a field; in the distance behind her a carp flops uselessly, mouth open and eyes vacant]

Even funnier, the train bridge across the Hudson River doesn’t appear in Pokemon’s maps database, so here’s how I crossed the mighty River-That-Flows-Both-Ways, with my useless Magikarp:

[image description: a rear view of the same skinny white video game avatar wandering over a flat blue surface in midair, the carp flopping vacantly around the same blue flat plane. In the distance looms the far (eastern) shore of the river.]

I did manage to fling a couple of pocket mans into various gyms-- the Rome train station is a gym that was at the time yellow, and there was one near the entry to the 33 in Buffalo, and one somewhere near Amsterdam. Go for it guys, I said, do some shit, don’t get Deliverance’d.

I got to M-L’s house and discovered that her roommate used to play Pokemon Go, pretty heavily, and stopped during the pandemic lockdown because she just wasn’t near any Pokestops and it got frustrating. I did eventually convince her to reactivate her account. She opened it up and remembered that she, a completionist at heart, had been methodically attempting to complete the entire Pokedex; she’s got about 900 pokey mans in there, mostly unique.

We went over to the farm for dinner and as I had thought, Farmkid was SUPER PUMPED to find out that I had Pokeymans ON MY PHONE. She’s a fan of the TV show and immediately ran to find me a book to loan me about them, and helped me go through and rename my best ones.

[image description: a small girl grinning at the camera with her arms out, holding an AR avatar of a Magikarp pokemon which has been virtually “placed” in the room she’s standing in]

Thanks to her my Magikarp buddy has been renamed from Failson, which was mean, to Floppiefins, which is cute. (She saw the Magikarp first on my screen and gasped and said in delight “Magikarps are useless” which was what I loved so much too.)

ok i gotta go to bed, tomorrow’s a long day with a lot of driving. we’re taking my mom’s car, and it’s me and M-L and Mom and one of my surviving aunts, and me and M-L are doing all of the driving.

(”I’ll do the driving down on long island,” M-L said, “in case you want to catch pockety mans there,” which is hilarious. She has never played the game but she has used her friend’s phone to catch pokeys while her friend was driving. she’s very familiar with the game. this is hilarious.)

I am expecting once my life is not unrelenting terribleness I will probably drift away from this mild obsession but at the moment i am so fucking stressed-out it’s been a blessed relief to just pointlessly hyperfocus on little digital guys in my phone. This is why I don’t game though, it’s all I can think about. So we’ll see how this goes.

In the meantime I only need two more Grimers to get enough candy to evolve one so stay tuned for further developments there. Also I caught about thirty Noibats today, including one shiny one, so. Yeah.

#pokemon go #about the author #real life #posting this in the morning from the queue but i wrote this sunday night #yeah yeah dysfunctional tumblr ocd #we all have our coping mechanisms

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ovaryacted · 1 year ago

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HIIIIIIII!!!!!! How you doing Nic <<3 I haven't been on Tumblr for ages so idk if I missed any new fanfic from you? (Though I guess I'll find out soon enough cause I'm about to stalk ur blog again)

What have you been up to besides simping for Leon? And has the holiday mood hit you yet? I hope you're doing great!!! My days have literally been PACKED with exams I'm so exausteddd. I'm really proud of myself today cause I think I did very well on an exam I literally started studying for this morning (gonna get that stupid degree 🫡��) the exam was a nightmare cause the professor was literally like fifteen minutes late and she made it so damn difficult for no reason 🤧🤧 FUCK PHYSICAL CHEMISTRY I'M SICK AND TIRED!!!

But anyway, ur blog always gets my mood up tho!! Even though I don't have a lot of time lately I love binging ur posts whenever I have a second to breathe. I know I've said this before but you're my favorite blog on here! Keep up the good work pookie <33

Also I just got a notification of you saying you want someone to bully you into writing so I guess I gotta make this ask meaner like...

START WRITING RIGHT THE **** NOW YOU ******* PIECE OF **** DON'T BE SUCH A ***** *****🤬😡😤

Did that help ☺️?

Anyhow yeah, just felt like sending an ask cause I haven't in a while. I'm really proud of you btw, don't overwork yourself Nic! Quality over quantity is te way to go <33 byeee lovelieeee ❤️❤️❤️

-🌑

MY NEW MOON ANON BABY HI HOW ARE YOU I’VE MISSED YOU!! 🩶

I’m decent, kind of just trying to survive and go through the motions. November’s been rough, December is kinda worse BUT I’m chilling for the most part. I hope you’re doing alright especially with your studies!! I’m super proud of you for focusing on school work and getting good grades. And yes, fuck physical chemistry, but the real bitch in the sciences is physics (I love biology and chemistry lmao, but absolutely can’t stand physics!). I’m sure that you will do great for this semester, I wish you the absolute best on your finals. Take care of yourself, eat well and stay hydrated, and do get your rest. I remember how I was during finals when I was still in school, absolutely tore me apart I was running on lattes like it was water LMAO. But I hope you get your break very soon!

I always love seeing your messages, they make me happy. But I also feel ashamed I haven’t written anything new though I am in the process of getting back in the groove of things. My brain just hasn’t kicked in when it comes to smut and it’s like I know what to write, just never know how?? I have so many ideas, and usually I’m very good at creating intricate hcs or plot points or need be, but when it comes to writing it out it just takes me forever to do it now. It’s a process, but I know I’ll have something for you to read soon. The bullying is working tho, I will say that because the second you sent me that message I actually opened up my computer and wrote something 😭 So thank you!

And btw, I got your longer ask, I didn’t forget about you wanting more sub Leon. I have two WIPs in the process, jumping between them, but now I’m changing the way I’m seeing and writing for Leon so I have to tweak some things out. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten. Thank you for the lovely message seriously. 🫶🧡

#ovaryacted asks #₊˚⊹♡ ─ new moon anon 🌑

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swimmingwolf59 · 2 years ago

Text

Last year I started rewatching tos in production order, and after watching ~2 episodes a week I finally finished!! For some ungodly reason I also decided to try and rank all tos episodes based on my personal enjoyment (and not whether or not I think it’s an objectively good episode), and though I changed this list around about a hundred times, I think I’m more or less happy with it now....

So if anyone is at all interested in that, well, here you go LOL

1. Journey to Babel

2. The Immunity Syndrome

3. Mirror, Mirror

4. The Deadly Years

5. The Ultimate Computer

6. Obsession

7. The Man Trap

8. Operation - Annihilate!

9. Friday's Child

10. The Trouble with Tribbles

11. For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

12. The Tholian Web

13. A Piece of the Action

14. Tomorrow is Yesterday

15. The Galileo Seven

16. Amok Time

17. The Devil in the Dark

18. The Corbomite Maneuver

19. The Naked Time

20. The Way to Eden

21. Is There in Truth No Beauty?

22. The Cloud Minders

23. Turnabout Intruder

24. The Enterprise Incident

25. Wolf in the Fold

26. The City on the Edge of Forever

27. Arena

28. The Conscience of the King

29. Balance of Terror

30. The Doomsday Machine

31. That Which Survives

32. A Taste of Armageddon

33. The Enemy Within

34. By Any Other Name

35. Bread and Circuses

36. Spock's Brain

37. Dagger of the Mind

38. I, Mudd

39. The Lights of Zetar

40. Miri

41. Space Seed

42. The Empath

43. Spectre of the Gun

44. The Mark of Gideon

45. Errand of Mercy

46. Court Martial

47. The Changeling

48. The Menagerie Part I

49. The Apple

50. All Our Yesterdays

51. The Savage Curtain

52. Requiem for Methuselah

53. Shore Leave

54. What Are Little Girls Made Of?

55. A Private Little War

56. Return to Tomorrow

57. The Squire of Gothos

58. Catspaw

59. Charlie X

60. The Alternative Factor

61. Wink of an Eye

62. The Return of the Archons

63. And the Children Shall Lead

64. Where No Man Has Gone Before

65. Assignment: Earth

66. Metamorphosis

67. Who Mourns for Adonais?

68. Plato's Stepchildren

69. This Side of Paradise

70. The Menagerie Part II

71. Elaan of Troyius

72. The Gamesters of Triskelion

73. The Paradise Syndrome

74. Mudd's Women

75. Whom Gods Destroy

76. Day of the Dove

77. Patterns of Force

78. Let That Be Your Last Battlefield

79. The Omega Glory

#star trek tos #episode ranking #i'm really surprised both operation annihilate and the tribble episode made it into my top ten lol #thanks leni for helping me figure out which episode i was missing LOL

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notfinancialadvice · 11 months ago

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okay

i don't mean to be really mean to anons

but this is such a dumb fucking hate comment and it is 3 and 33 in the ol' am

so let's

MATH

Okay, so the longest bull-run in stock market history (people with money making more money), a good 10-year chunk. Here is the source for that quote.

ARE WE QUOTING SOURCES YOU BET YOUR BUTTOCKS

This is not financial advice but it is research-assisted posting :)

From the original Ask there was a tag that the yarn purchase was $70.

We are going to see what a $70 purchase of stock instead of yarn would have yielded

...ten years later

We'll be super generous and say "you know what, no taxes, no fees" because

...it's 3:30 in the morning and this is a post to illustrate the bad faith argument that "small luxuries ruin your financial future"

when in fact it is

wage stagnation

housing prices

super fucking weirdly low interest rates

side note: one of my favorite games is to ask "hey what was the interest rate when Whatever Company Comes to Mind Was Founded because they are going FROM FREE SERVICES to PAID SERVICES"

spoiler: it is usually in the highlighted era -- low interest rates mean people with money shove cash into lots and lots and lots and lots of startups

knowing 9.9 out of 10 will explode

and the 0.1 that survives will be worth a giant fortune, and somewhere between 2-5 of those that blew up can be scrapped for parts worth, over time, more than their initial investment

when borrowing money is practically 0% it is really easy to make a lot of money (if you have some money to start with)

Welcome to the business of Doin' Business it's great and/or terrible

as one final disclaimer i do not know @sergle in any way, shape, or form, other than I follow her on my main account

Lets. Do. MATH!

Let's say you had $70 (we will be EVEN MORE GENEROUS and not adjust for inflation) invested into the S&P 500 on Monday, March 9, 2009. You're listening to Flo Rida because it is 2009.

I don't have a gif for that one because I am actually not sure which Flo Rida song is good or bad. Okay.

$70 MARKET OPEN INVESTMENT NO FEES NOT ADJUSTED FOR INFLATION NO TAXES MARCH 9, 2009.

You hold for 10 years, 7 months, 0 days.

You have a staggering return of 330%.

"what about dividends that get reinvested" that is covered on return i love you moving on.

You invested $70 instead of buying yarn for $70 and ten years later you $231 (70 x 330%) and I again want to reiterate

you didn't pay trading fees

I didn't adjust the original down for inflation

you didn't pay taxes, and because this blog is not financial advice,

you knew EXACTLY when to invest and EXACTLY when to cash out

as a side note if DO you know exactly when to get into, and out of, the market you're either god or committing financial fraud ;)

computer what is the buying power of $231 (final return) minus initial investment ($70)

$161

computer what is the purchasing power of $161 in today's money

SMALL INEXPENSIVE JOYS THAT DO NOT HARM LIFE FUNCTIONS

computer please provide a backup source of information from a channel I am not affiliated with in any way, shape, or form, but provides great information that helps

dispel bullshit myths by think piece publications with agendas

anons who are being mean

and just generally helps demystify money, the stated goal of this blog, I occasionally write

youtube

YOUR COFFEE DID NOT COST YOUR FINANCIAL FUTURE (HERE'S WHAT DID)

computer please play a joke video unrelated to any of the above for happy reasons explicitly something smart and clever and wonderful from a fairly recent but still bygone era of animation

youtube

anyway

sergle I hope you enjoy your yarn

everyone else I hope you enjoy your whatever brings you joy

never forget to negotiate with new job offers (unrelated to anything above just good advice I like to give out

You do an awful lot of complaining about money for someone who's buying that much yarn

YARN IS THE NEW AVOCADO TOAST, YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST

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theorist-influencer-untitled · 1 month ago

Text

10.10.24 Thursday to murder or not to murder???

4:33 am

Still,have windblow...

Thank God for today... Preparin' to take off, in a lil while...

10:34 am

Still,have windblow...

There is something weird again here in TP Molinos...As in mga Malignos....

I feel that some are planning to wipe me out again... Hmmm....

They are so super strict on quick bio break or pee break...

I feel the power vs power here again and again... I'm blind-folded....

4:32 pm

Still,have windblow...

I wanna explain something, that is difficult to pin-point... I'm here in the house now... It is hard for me to pin-point the next weird crazy bunch of kids again and again... I hate younger kids these days coz they will just steal my position on earth and even in TP... I'm not comfortable being with kids anymore...

I don't know how to make the story short....

I feel that there is a weird something in my wave 35... Hoping that the hunk TL will get me asap... I badly need to maintain a job coz I need money.

5:20 pm

Still,have windblow...

The wave 35 is on a shadowing competition like what I said a power vs power.... It is a bit difficult to see now,who are mean and who are genuine and who are plastics...

6:14 pm

Still,have windblow...

Hmm... I feel offended awhile ago when Kate,one of the N.A's assigned Kai to me to assist me? Why, not her? She is the nesting aid... Kai is one of the kids that I'm not comfortable with today coz I feel strange,why she will guide me, she is not the "nesting aid"...

I mean I feel offended... Kate is my nesting aid today and she is okay when she took over my last chat, I mean she really helped me on that 2 hours long chat... I made a joke that I told Kate, if I can type it here to send this message to the customer coz it's been 2 hours and we were still chatting there... Is it ohkay to send this " Do you wanna marry me?" I laughed a lil and Kate as well... I like Kate as my "nesting aid" coz she is careful on typing words... We were somehow alternate or switching on my last chat coz I'm the "Hang-on Tony...."... But at the latter part she took over...It felt that my customer didn't want to let me go. That particular customer is now in Saudi Arabia but his Disney+ account was created in USA... Gosh! 2 hours until 4pm,we were still chatting.... What? Marrying the agent??? Funny fucking-less life...

I made a joke on Kate that if I can send a message to that customer " Do you wanna marry me?" hahaha It's been 2 hours angels but it is still a good chat.... I hope it is a good chat,I mean a good thing for me on my score card... Shit!

I'm here in this walls and building of TP to work not to be a student...

10:55 pm

Still,have windblow...

There are so many things to share but I'm fucking-less super tired everyday and I missed to share a particular story here that I observed in TP...

Like Darlene is a younger soul who always asked questions about something....

Daddy became closer to Mavie, I will try to take a photo of Mavie by tomorrow...

Yvon Ely or Ivan Ely seems happy with Shane??? ;)

Still, I'm with the oldies... Mars is still the same can't survive without a smoke as well as Angel. I accidentally saw Angel, one pack of cigarettes.

It is just really fucking-less weird that all you can hear and all they can talk about there is their chat or their call... I'm somehow suffocated of making it a big deal though I know it is work... It is work not a student there,hey!

Make some trouble...

It is wave 35! Give me a wave....

11:28 pm

Still,have windblow...

I just took my exam on skills, I got it twice... I passed it on the 2nd take again... I'm gonna be a second taker if I didn't have a time to review or had my reviewer. In Call Center you need to grasp without pen and notes, you can on the computer but you can never take it home...

I was tired after the exam....I have windblow... I hate it when there are questions like select that all apply or select those are applicable or choose 3 and there are some left answers must be, for you to be able to get the correct answers...

You must be a sponge on the spot... You have to pressure yourself to absorb everything but you actually feel sleepy and sometimes you got lost...

Rules,rules,rules... Who make rules? Are they powerful? Power Vs Power??? Why, it is bad to pee??? Do you have to know everything just in 1 day??? Oh! Bullshit!!!

youtube

11:49 pm

Though, I kinda hate you but I care....Just want you to know these are the waves that I can give to you there in TP...

I really wanna save and survive you but I'm having a hard time coz me,myself and I... I need to survive as well...

I will try to make some trouble for you just to survive or save you...

Love...

youtube

#Youtube

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xatkhe · 3 months ago

Text

enc

s see 1ee 33lets3 skeletons and fetid was made for something new - 11 into the future; the future echoes into the past, in dreams and visions and potentiality. searching for what will be in the bones of what was. in january of 2033, the ³3a states 3emilitary dropped a chemical weapon of ee3ese33ese3e3³3333³³33|3W2 ³l uninhabitable in thee long #e³s33³33 in wor the sake of noaaaeaeething3 but themselves, aaand the sescar still oozes. for @/awhitehead

how do u o0en a door? how do you open a door? how do you open a door? how do you open a door? how do you open a door? how do you open a foor? how do you open a door ? how od you open a door? how do you open a door? how do you open a door? how do you open a dior? how do you lpen a door? how do yoi open a door? hoe fo you open a door? how do you open a dood. how do hoi open a door?

I wake up every day with the knowledge that the only truly moral move I have to take is to become a domestic terrorist.

I spent most of my summer sitting in the heat and running moral calculus on whether or not it is okay for me to turn on the air conditioner. I have been thinking endlessly about how electricity consumption is going to boom across the Third World as air conditioning becomes necessary in the next century and beyond and how that is likely to feed itself further and what an American Life means exported to the entire world. I go on walks in the cemetery and I look at the deer and I listen to the immense rumble of the HVAC of the children's hospital echoing against the hills and I wonder which year will be the last one that I see them prance over graves. Everything ahead is survivable if we start acting now, but are we? Will we?

Videos of dead children and knowing that I'm not doing enough and knowing that I'm somehow doing more than most and videos of dead children and videos of dead adults.

The present moment is a test, and we're failing it like we've failed every moment before. Americans are uniquely poisoned in their faith that having the right opinions means literally anything at all. I want movement. Action change dreaming growth, an open door - I have been getting claustrophobic lately, especially when I smoke, even outdoors. I think about the heat and pressure and proximity, crammed into a jail cell or a train car or a bus, unable to escape things touching me, my skin touching my muscles touching my bone, the death of escape.

I don't think I'm supposed to feel this trapped in my own body nearly eight years on HRT.

Is this sustainable? Is this moral? Is this sustainable, is this moral - this mix, this computer, this software, these synthesizers? - I've been wearing shoes with holes in them for over a year and that is certainly my moral OCD personified (christ this entire screed certainly is but man look at where we live and how we live and what is done so that we can do this and tell me we shouldn't all be a little more OCD about our position in the world, for fuck's sake), but the frequency with which I see "you are allowed to want nice things" repeated and sloganized and embodied makes me nauseous with the desperate expanse of absolution it encapsulates. What nice things and how much and to what ends - I am anti-"let people enjoy things" and could write an essay on how vacuous of a statement it is - this laptop was $600; the combined synthesizers, just under a thousand and that's only because I got them all used and one of them for free. Who could that have fed? - who could my fucking tuition (for a bullshit comp sci degree at a rich kid school whose only application is evil military shit or evil finance shit or evil big tech shit) have fed?

I think about every time I told a homeless person that I didn't have any change (which is usually true) instead of taking five minutes to buy them some food from a corner store; doing some vulgar karmatics with all the times I have I think I tend to land net positive, but then I remember, I'm an American, there is blood on my hands, there is blood on your hands, there is blood rising up from the keys that I'm typing on, there is blood pooling at my feet and in the soil and in my veins like so much microplastic, and I think I've started so far in the negative that all I can do is desperately try to crawl my way towards zero.

"Not being bad" is not "being good."

I started believing in hell on Friday and while I can't find room for the idea of eternal damnation within my conception of God, there is plenty in each of us that will need to be burned away before passing on to whatever's next; I have never directly ended the life of a child, but I have not done enough to prevent the infanticide that lies downstream of gas being $3.75 a gallon. Even while I try to balance the debt, I find comfort in awaiting my own accounting.

I think I need to stop smoking and go plant some flowers in the vacant lot on my street. I will not feel good until I see the White House on fire.

A better world is possible but no one else will build it for us or me or you.

I've been thinking lately of entities, objects, concepts, ideas, being not split or located among a binary spectrum between Reality and Fiction, with Lies being located between the two, but instead located within a triangle of Reality, Fiction, and Magic. This has the effect of situating Magic directly opposite Lies, which provides an easy negative definition of Magic. You could, in fact, redraw the triangle as two parallel and exclusive spectrums:

Magic is the thing that is neither exclusively Reality or Fiction, nor is it a Lie. If it is not a Lie, then, it follows that it must be a Truth, but not in the same way that Reality or Fiction are alone. In this parallel configuration, the intermingling of both is considered to not destroy the truth of either but to instead transcend it - much as Lie transcends truth in one sense, Magic transcends it as its opposite.

To return to the triangle: the midpoints between the three poles then become Lies, between Reality and Fiction; Imagination, between Fiction and Magic - that which is emphatically not Reality, but contains some element of reference to its form of truth through connection to Magic; and Faith, between Magic and Reality. Magic can be understood as a derivative of Faith and Imagination just as much as it could be their antecedents. To complete the hex fusion, what lies at the center of Faith, Imagination, and Lies -----?????--------?---?-----? I don't know like God? THE MYSTERY? It feels tryhard to even write this. It seemed less so before I smoked.

I had what I'm choosing to regard as a spiritual experience in April. It lasted maybe three weeks, with a peak of about a week and a sudden, sharp fall off at the end. All of this made even more sense then. Everything made sense, even what didn't, and I felt Possibility and Magic - partial synonyms - more deeply than I ever have before. Desire, above all, was suddenly true - counter to an entire life of constraining myself and what I want within the boundaries of what is expected of me and what is okay to want, the world opened up. My sister gave me a locket with a rabbit engraved on it for Christmas and inside is a bent embroidery needle. I held it and I could see the million potentialities of Mes I could be stretching before me and all of them felt like they could've been real. Life felt worth living for it's own sake, not just out of duty to my loved ones. I woke up happy to be alive. I dreamt of the future. It was nauseating and terrifying and demanded the world of me and I have despaired deeply of ever experiencing it again, and I have come to realize that my inability to identify and name it to anyone but myself - to acceed to its demands - is part of why it left. I hope that when it comes again, I'll be better equipped to shelter it. But it's been a long time, and my apostasy often feels coldly inescapable. I still flinch every time I try to open that door again.

I have no idea how to thread the needle of desire and duty. I do not know where loving yourself ends and wallowing in yourself begins. I do not know where wallowing in yourself ends and autodevotion begins. I do not know where autodevotion ends and devotion to the world begins. I think that there is some degree to which none of these things are fully inextricable from each other - I think that maybe they're mutually supportive - I think that loving other people requires you to first love yourself and that loving yourself first requires you to love other people - I think that my flinching away from desire is downstream of this country and its culture being based on and within puritanism - I think that my flinching away from duty is downstream of this country and its culture being based on and within individualism and atomized pursuit of self-interest at the expense of everything else.

<redacted: like a week.>

there is no future that looks like This. there is no future that looks like industry and consumption and data centers and modernity. ted k was right!!! a mode of government that produces genocide demands its destruction, and a mode of living that produces ecocide demands the same. no amount of solar and wind and wave and nuclear can change the fact that the future WILL NOT and CANNOT be eco-modernism cyberpunk disposable food grown on the other side of the world hi tech extractivism productivism laptops smartphones synthetics streaming virtual reality artificial intelligence gaming vsts graphics cards; the only question is if that'll be because we've built something better or killed ourselves off in the process. i don't want to live in the world where i watch the latter.

i hate this because i want to do nothing but make my music - i played live for the first time last month and it was incredibly wonderful and affirming but is that compatible with Something Better??? is it REALLY?????? no vibes, fuck off - is it really? - is any of this? writing this is the first time i've opened my laptop in like a week and the heat pouring off of it is making me sick. maybe the answer is only hardware but can we square that anti-extractivism??? maybe we just never make synths again - and what i have now is what i have, that's it, forever, if it dies it dies. maybe the music im sitting on right now is the last stuff i ever release. maybe the ephemerality of what i write or perform in the moment is what makes it beautiful. maybe the only writing or art i ever do is pen/cil on paper in notebooks that only ever get shown to whoever asks. maybe, maybe, maybe.

Oh, I want to play. I want to PLAY!!!!!!!!!!! I want to play, I want to dance in my little worlds and fuck in the street and bathe in the cool grass and love reflection again, I want to know myself, I want to feel the divine spark, I want to touch myself and touch my Self and feel how nothing it all is - ! I want, I want, I want. Everything feels real. Nothing feels real. Jokes about the Demiurge are not quite just jokes anymore. The magic will come back, the Frenzy will return, the sister of my soul will speak to me again if I only let myself want her to!!, but!!!; what I also want is, still, the white house in flames, the steps of the capitol bathed in the blood of world-killers, and faith that there will still be a world in five, ten, fifteen years, on the other side of groundwater depletion, topsoil annihilation, 3-then-5-then-8-celcius and the dozen tipping points along the way and the DNC's tools of massacre aimed at the border should anyone come seeking shelter or revenge (either of course more than justified). Always always always always the question is if and how I can get both - does the Revolution need another unstable tranny choosing to lean harder into the glimmers of unreality that dodge at the corner of my vision, words whispered in my ears at the rising and setting horizons of sleep, mirror waiting for me to laugh first? Would dropping in or dropping out be a grain of sand missing from the shore or the straw breaking the back of civilization? Is autolumpenization revolutionary or just bourgeois ideology bubbling up from my veins to keep me from being bored knocking on doors for like PSL or something?? Or are either eclipsing the awful truth that the only people of real courage in the moment are willing to kill and die for a better world most of us don't dare to really really REALLY REALLY REALLY dream of????

I overestimate my own importance for sure - but, well, someone has to.

Risk is necessary - safety is a curse - we are either going to live ourselves to death or die our way to life - AND WE ARE ALL ALREADY DEAD -

life is waiting to be built.

0 notes

kingkaizen · 6 months ago

Note

about this.

I am not actually a developer or anything computer science (just a humanities girl trying to survive in a stem world) but THE AMOUNT OF TIMES THE CODE WOULDN'T RUN BECAUSE OF THE WRONG COMMA OR PARENTHESIS I STG I ... but yeah coding is my passion and my suffering.

alright with this I am off, have a lovely day!

we loveee humanities <33

BUT YES I HAVE SUCH A LOVE HATE RELATIONSHIP WITH CODING it irks my soulll until i get it right and then i feel so smart like wow i really shouldn't change my major after all <33

thank you babe i hope you also have an amazing day mwah

#reny speaks <3 #moots <3

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starglow-xx · 4 years ago

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hello! may i request headcanons for chuuya having a crush on someone who's dense? like he could ask them out in the most straightforward way possible and it would still go over their head?

yes, yes of course you may!

sorry this took so long! my computer was out of commission for abt a week (or two..??)

but this is also my birthday writing piece for chuuya!! (4/29/21) i even added a small drabble thingy in addition to the hcs for the occasion hehe

from where i am, it is about fifteen minutes past midnight so it’s officially chuuya day here!!

happy birthday chuuya i love you! you deserve the whole world and everyone is willing to fight tooth and nail to ensure your happiness! we love you! 💗💗

anyways, i hope you all enjoy this! i kinda had some writer’s block but it was still a lot of fun to write! there might be some mistakes, but i’ll scan over it again later. reader is gender neutral! have fun!

chuuya having a crush on a dense! reader

nakahara chuuya x gn! reader

im cackling somebody help him

he’s frustrated bc you can’t take a hint or a thousand but he can’t even be mad bc he’s whipped

“look at you all dressed up today, wanna go out later? my treat?”

“oh really? thanks chuuya-san! you’re such a nice friend. i’ll go invite the others right now, i’ll see you later!”

“...”

fast forward to later in the evening and he finds himself at a little restaurant with the black lizard + higuchi and akutagawa

sigh

in unison all of them go, “thank you for the meal chuuya-san!” (except aku and hirotsu are quieter & and gin just a nods hehe)

“no problem” (ꐦ ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )

gin only pats him on the back in sympathy

he spends a lot of time trying to think of ways to make it absolutely and undeniably clear that he has feelings for you

he always fails

“(y/n) i like you”

“i like you too chuuya-san”

“really?”

“mhm”

“t-then will you—”

“you’re a really great friend! and superior too”

“...nevermind”

“oh were you saying something?”

“nah, just forget about it”

tachihara is laughing in the corner of the corridor

dont worry, chuuya made sure to get back at him

chuuya’s been pinning after you for years and frankly, his failed attempts to woo you has lead everyone to the breaking point

and i mean everyone

yes, even aku

hell even dazai

but dazai also thinks it’s funny, so he doesn’t mind all that much

okay bye bye dazai-san this headcanon set isn’t abt you rn

PLEASE EVERYONE FEELS SO BAD FOR HIM

they knew even if he kissed you, you still might not get it

so they decided to help him

super secret mission get chuuya and (y/n) together is a go!

they’re still working on a proper mission name, don’t mind them

they had a super secret strategy meeting!

you can bet your ass that they nearly got nothing done

akutagawa & kaiji weren’t much help, neither was higuchi, mori, or elise

tachihara nearly got killed for a thoughtless comment

“just tell them chuuya-san!”

“i already fucking did you ass!”

gin, hirotsu, and kouyou were the most helpful !!

hirotsu and kouyou both agreed on the idea that chuuya should try courting with bouquets of flowers instead of flat out asking you bc they knew you found them pretty

(even if you don’t identify as a female, flowers are for everyone no matter gender or sexuality! so let’s normalize giving flowers to everyone <33 )

gin didn’t speak but she used cards to communicate

everyone knew that you weren’t stupid (you wouldn’t have survived in the mafia if you were) but they did know that you were only stupid when it came to all this lovey dovey stuff

i mean, if chuuya gave you flowers every so often, there’s no way that you wouldn’t piece it together at some point

right...??

but kouyou assured him that even though you wouldn’t get it right away, you’d appreciate the gestures and that he’ll stand out more

she even said that if someone gave her flowers, she would appreciate it, whether or not she reciprocated their feelings

it takes guts to be so up front with your feelings after all

gin and hirotsu only nodded with her explanation

once again, this only provoked a reaction out of tachihara

“what do you know gin? i get the old man and kouyou-san, they’re grown, but you? what do you know abt courting? or flowers? what are you a girl?”

akutagawa choked on his cough, higuchi on air, and on the other side of yokohoma at the ada, dazai is cackling

yes, dazai somehow placed a listening device onto chuuya’s hat and was listening in

don’t ask how, it’s dazai

“DAZAI GET YOUR BANDAGED ASS OFF THE COUCH AND STOP LAUGHING”

anyways

the next day, chuuya did what was barely discussed and for once, things actually started to look up

until they started look to down again

at first, it actually looked like you understood his intentions after he gave you a bouquet of flowers

literally everyone was leaning against the opposite hallway you two were in and then they got excited !!

especially chuuya !

but then your expression sort of changed...??

and then in their heads they simultaneously went, “oh no”

they knew that expression

it was very familiar when you tended to friend zone chuuya

but boy let me tell you what you said next made them facepalm and or make their jaws drop

“ah, so you really are friend zoning me huh chuuya-san; what a shame, i really did like you”

LEMME TELL YOU WHEN I SAY THAT CHUUYA WAS DISTRESSED I MEAN HE WAS DISTRESSED

you liked him??

him of all people??

he wasn’t complaining, no of course not, but he still couldn’t believe it

but that wasn’t what he was really focusing on right now

what in any form or language did it say he was friend zoning you?!

flower language apparently

chuuya chose to buy the bouquet of yellow roses, pink carnations, and yellow carnations bc he thought you would appreciate the brighter colors, and so that you’d remember them better (because remembering them, meant remembering him)

but ooh boy

altogether, they meant the exact opposite message he wanted to send

someone help him pls

“you see chuuya-san, yellow roses mean friendship, pink carnations mean gratitude, and yellow carnations mean rejection; sooo in a nutshell, these pretty much say ‘thank you for being my friend, but im rejecting you”

no one can tell if tachihara is crying or wheezing

and dazai is having the time of his life

yes, he started listening in on him again

and chuuya is just stunned

like speechless and unmoving stunned

is he just bad at this whole courting/dating thing?? it’s only been one day and of it and somehow he was the one doing the rejecting??

“thank you for the flowers chuuya-san, i’ll be going now; i’ll make sure to let this affect our friendship. i’ll see you tomorrow!”

you passed by the not so subtle group of people

“tachihara-kun..?? are you alright?”

just for context, he was leaning his forehead against the wall using his forearm

again, it was hard to tell whether he was crying or wheezing

“i-im okay (y/n)-san...i think c-chuuya-san has it worse than me”

“...okay..?”

BACK TO CHUUYA

he’s still frozen poor baby

but it’s okay bc after like 5 more seconds he’s chasing you down the hallway you were walking in

kouyou, with a knowing smile on her face, ushers everyone away towards the opposite direction

she received some whines (ahem, tachihara and mori) but silenced them by summoning golden demon

but it’s okay

if they run fast enough, they can see what happens through the security cameras

chuuya caught up with you and tried to explain everything but he was exhausted

emotionally, physically (bc since when did you walk that fast??), and generally just tired with the whole situation

he just wanted to call you his; was that too much to ask??

as explosive as he can be, he can be calm and collected too

and he really did try to be that way as he talked with you but it was very difficult at the moment

the dumbfounded and confused look on your face his face twitch with annoyance and his heart started beating faster bc god you were cute

BUT THATS BESIDES THE POINT RIGHT NOW

thank goodness after what seemed like years, you finally somewhat understood what happened

you didn’t understand completely but it was something

The two of you stood in the middle of the unusually empty hallway facing each other, you with the bouquet still in hand. It was quiet as you and Chuuya assessed the situation.

You looked at him skeptically and he stared right back you with his gorgeous blue eyes.

“...So you do like me Chuuya-san??”

“Yes”

“And you were trying to court me just now, not friend zone me??”

“Yes”

You got most of your questions out of the way, but there was something that you’ve been wondering about for quite a while.

“...So you’re not gay for Dazai-san??”

“Yes, im not wait—GAY FOR DAZAI?? THAT MACKEREL??”

Chuuya did a double take. What in heavens name made it seem like he liked that suicidal maniac?? Why would he choose him if he had you?

Like he would choose him anyways; or ever consider him as a possible romantic partner.

“Oh, so you are?”

“NO! I SAID I LIKED YOU DIDN’T I?”

“Well yeah, but I thought you liked Dazai-san too. As annoying as he is, he can be quite charming—”

He was out of patience at this point (nope definitely not because you were talking about Dazai who told you that?) and just decided to kiss you.

You immediately melted into the kiss and kissed him back with the same amount of love and feeling.

Letting the bouquet fall to the ground, you wrapped you arms around his neck and his put his on your lower back and brought you closer to him. After a few more moments, the two of you broke apart for air.

The two of you, slightly out of breath, leaned your foreheads against each other and just basked in each others presence.

Chuuya looked into your (e/c) eyes and asked you just a little bit above a whisper, “Now do you get my intentions and feeling?”

You blinked at him before breaking out into a grin, “Hmm I’m not sure; do you wanna do that again Chuuya?”

The red head only blinked back at you before rolling his eyes, a smile present on his handsome features, his heart fluttering at you using his name with the honorific.

“Dumbass”

Smiling cheekily at him, you pressed a kiss on his cheek and started dragging him towards the lobby to take a walk around the building perimeter, knowing that the two of you can’t be too far from work.

The way down to the lobby was mostly in comfortable silence until you said something that made Chuuya want to bash his head against the wall.

“You know, you could’ve just told me you liked me Chuuya. It’s not like I would’ve said no.”

Once again, as the rest of the more power mafia members watch from security cameras, it is hard to tell whether Tachihara is crying or wheezing of laughter.

omake !!

The two of you just started making your way around the building when suddenly a very familiar voice came from Chuuya’s prized hat.

“Chuuyaaaa!! It was about time you stopped being a chicken, Chibi!”

Removing his hat from his head, he started yelling at it not knowing exactly where the listening device was planted.

“TEME! HOW DID YOU—”

“And (y/n)! I would congratulate you, but I think I would rather offer you my condolences. Why him?! He’s just a slimy slug. OOH OOH how would you like to join me in a double suicide?! A shame it won’t be a lover’s suicide but it’ll annoy Chuuya so I think it’ll be worth it! ”

“YOU—”

“And please don’t kiss while I’m listening in. You made me lose my appetite! And it was such a shame! I was eating crab using Kunikida-kun’s money! Do you know what you’ve cost me?!”

“DAZAI YOU PIECE OF—”

“Ah! Kunikida-kun is here! I have to go!”

You can hear something is the background that vaguely sounds like, “DAZAI YOU WASTE OF BANDAGES STOP USING MY MONEY”

“DAZAI DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE IM NOT DONE WITH—”

*Click!*

The click sound from the hat revealed that Dazai disconnected.

Chuuya twitched and glared furiously at his signature hat hating that the voice he hated the most came out of it.

“Aww, I didn’t get to talk to Dazai-san”

Chuuya whipped his head towards you, a look of mock (or real) betrayal showing on his features.

You laughed at him before taking the hat out of his hands and placing it on his head.

He shyly looked away before muttering a thanks making you smile wider. Just as the two of you were about to start walking, a small explosion erupted from his hat; it was likely that Dazai made the listening device self destruct.

“DAZAI YOU BASTARDD”

At the Armed Detective Agency, a certain suicidal maniac hid from the wrath of his current partner as he thought about the wrath his old one.

“Hmmm I wonder if Chuuya would finally stop wearing his ugly hats if I blow all of them up...”

as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize! the reblog button is there for a reason

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samsrowena · 2 years ago

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i was tagged by emily @freakwiththeknifecollection <33

Rules: Answer the questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to get to know better!

Name: moogs

Star sign: leo

Height: 5'6

Time: 9:15pm est

Birthday: august 9th

Favorite bands/artists: way too many to list because i like all kinds of music but right now i'm listening to a lot of lord huron!

Last movie: clueless a year ago which was for a watch party for a friend's birthday because she'd never seen it... lol i don't watch movies that much sorry

Last show: do i even need to say it (last ep was 4x02)

When did I create this blog: i thought it was 2009 but apparently it was may 2010

What I post: 99.9% spn (mostly dean, samwena, and destiel though i try to post about lots of other ships/chars/etc too!)

Last thing I Googled: dream a little dream of me (was trying to find which version of the song plays in 3x10 because it was stuck in my head lol)

Other blogs: just my post limit blog @crossroadsdirt

Do I get asks?: yes and i love them, nice messages make my day of course!!! and messages asking me to rant and rave about the blorbos make my day even more aalsjfjklkls

Following: 339 but not entirely accurately at the moment since tumblr nuked some of my moots today >:/

Average hours of sleep: i'm lucky if i get my four hours 😞 i cannot escape the deancoding

Instruments: is a computer keyboard an instrument

What I'm wearing: pajamas always (#workfromhomelife)

Dream job: not working <3

Dream trip: anywhere, i've only ever got to go on one trip to new york city a few years ago and it was so fun just to see somewhere else that wasn't georgia lmao so i would be happy going anywhere else honestly

Nationality: american

Favorite songs: couldn't possibly choose but songs of the moment are when the night is over by lord huron or bury a friend by billie eilish (heard it off a spn amv like most of my "new" music!)

Last book I’ve read: uhhh you mean fanfic? alskkdkd haven't read any in a few days because the last thing i read made me annoyed... but before that there was an interesting s15 rewrite (destiel/samwena) called final season: home is where one starts from

Top 3 fictional universes I’d like to live in: i don't have three answers but the main (and cringy one) is spn :/ i wanna meet my beloveds <3 even though i would die in that world immediately because i have no survival skills and i'm a giant chicken lmao

Tagging: whoever wants to do this!!! (always too chicken to tag people sorry alskkfll)

#a.txt #tag game

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kashimos-hajime · 5 years ago

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all the stars are closer | c.b.

summary: mark watney wasn’t the only one left behind on mars, and as you struggle to survive on the desert planet, hidden feelings come to light between you and your best friend, dr. chris beck.

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, pining, confessed feelings, probably terrible space jargon but i tried :^), swearing, movie-level injuries pairing: chris beck x fem!reader word count: 7.9k

a/n: written for @baezen. my prompt was have you ever wanted to hate someone? with chris beck :D inspired by say something by a great big world. i wrote this from 12-5am this morning and i’ve perused for mistakes but excuse me if there are still some left!

SOL 18

The sol you’re left behind is… unexpected to say the least.

The winds pick up the sand so heavily your headlights barely pierce through the thick gusts as you push yourself against the current. Small clumps of sand brush against your helmet as you turn to close the door to the Hab behind you. It locks with a groan and you give it a small push to make sure before you turn around again, your eyes focus on Watney’s suit in front of you, desperate not to lose sight of him.

The wind whips at your body, slams into you like a hundred punches all over your suit. It’s as if claws dig into your legs and drag you back. Each step is agonizingly slow.

“Commander, we’re at 10 degrees. The MAV is gonna tip at 12.3.” Martinez’s voice rings in your ears as the punishing sand blocks your vision of Watney for a split second. Your heart is thrumming in your throat and you try to reach forward against the gales but you can barely raise your arms higher than your waist.

Metal crunches, bending under the force of the storm and you raise your head, squinting to try and make out the structures around them. All you see are shadows, silhouettes of your friends and you inhale sharply when a rock flies into the glass of your helmet. Flinching back, you lower your head as your eyes scan for cracks.

“You good, Y/N?”

Chris’ voice rattles in your helmet as you look up. He’s one of the figures in the far distance but you smile anyway, continuing your walk towards him.

“Yeah. You spying on my vitals, Beck?” you tease and his slight chuckle warms your blood as you step over a fallen line.

“That’s Dr. Beck, and no. Just checking up on my crew mates.”

“Hey, lovebirds and companions!” Watney calls. “We might be able to keep the MAV from tipping.”

“How?”

“Use cable from the comms mast as guy lines, anchor it with the Rover’s—” A particularly strong burst of wind knocks you back a few steps, distracting you from Watney’s idea. Your muscles screech in protest as you catch yourself, trying to regain your balance. Your foot digs in awkwardly into the sand as another gale swerves from the side and knocks you right into a crouch.

Lessons at the Academy ring in your ear as the storm howls louder. There’s a faint whistling, hollow in your skull, and you keep your eyes on the two lines of your crew, still heading forward. You’ll give yourself three seconds. Three seconds to just stabilize yourself and then you’ll need to catch up.

Make yourself smaller, ground yourself. You need to realign your centre of gravity.

Your instructor’s voice in your head repeating the words over and over again, you begin to stand up again. Sucking in a lungful of stale air, you take your first step forward. You’re dead focused on keeping your balance and making it to the MAV. There’s nothing more you want than to just sink into the seat, buckled in beside Chris.

“Watch out!”

You don’t see it coming.

Mark Watney slams into you at inhumane speeds. Screaming, you’re knocked off your feet and lifted into the air by the winds pushing you in every direction. Your head jerks forward into the helmet before snapping back, and your whole body alights with fire. Watney’s body is limp against yours and you struggle to get a hold on him, fingers slipping on his wrist. You can barely hear yourself over the storm, your throat burning raw as you catch sight of your arm computer.

/WATNEY /SIGNAL LOST

“Mark? Mark! Wake up!” You glance around, your neck beginning to freeze up from the whiplash. The sharp ping of his decompression alarm rings in your ears, a warning of the death to come and you let out a desperate scream.

There are no figures in sight. No crew members. No one is going to find you in a near-zero visibility storm.

Wrapping your arms around Mark as tight as you can to keep him nearby, you close your eyes and redirect all your energy to staying awake. Metal is creaking, tarp is snapping, and the roaring winds whip at your flying bodies as something slams into your ribs.

“Watney!”

“Y/N!” Chris’ horrified scream of your name reverberates through your skull and you shout out his name, as if that’ll help you hone in on his suit. As if that’ll save you.

Arms dislodged from Mark, he flies past you just as another hard piece of metal sends you flying in another direction. Grasping at nothing but sand, you let out another piercing shriek as you tumble towards the ground.

The landing slams into your bones, and you feel like something breaks inside before everything goes black.

Broken ribs, whiplash, multiple contusions all over your body.

Your suit is nothing more than a pile on the ground as you stumble around the Hab for medical supplies and you barely manage to bring your bruised legs across to the table, the tray of supplies trembling in your weak hand. Your ribs are splitting, blistering pain as you try to suck in a breath, sinking onto the exam table as you carefully begin to peel off your shirt. Your chest screams at you to stop moving and the pain is blinding as you lift up your arms, fingers carefully hooked on the hem of your shirt and tug up.

“Fuck,” you grit out, your neck frozen in place as you try to get it unsnagged from your head. Your mind is racing, trying to come up with any way you could perform an epidural on yourself, as you grab the injection needle. You’ll need to be able to move with less pain than this if you want to get out of this mess, but you need another trained professional to dig it into your back.

You need Chris and you don’t have him here.

What you found is morphine, vials of different anesthetics, and needles. You load one of them up and the syringe is smooth against your clammy palm as you raise your arm haphazardly to your neck. It’s loaded with lidocaine and you press down against your neck, clenching your teeth as a soft click accompanied by a sharp nipping pain digs deeply into your wrenched muscles.

Tossing the anesthetic onto the table, you grab the oral meds. Acetaminophen tablets. You’re going to be needing a lot of them over the next few days as you try to work out your next course of action. Acetaminophen tablets and cold showers.

Great.

Popping one into your mouth, you crush it between your teeth and dry swallow, sweat glistening on your skin as you tilt your head back against the table and close your eyes. Lucky for you, your thoracic cavity only feels like it’s about to cave in when you breathe in.

Small blessings and all that.

You feel the sweet pull of sleep tug at your consciousness as you let out a sigh, melting against the warming metal table. Not that you’re keen on wasting away on Chris’ exam table, but it does sound nice at the moment. Your eyes fluttering shut, you try to ignore the sounds of your own laboured breathing and the sight of a deserted Mars. Ignore the fact that you barely limped your way back to the Hab after searching for Watney and the MAV.

So this wasn’t just some shitty dream. Your crew is really gone, and Watney really is dead.

Shit.

Eyebrows furrowing together, you force yourself into a sitting position despite the dulling ache in your neck and the consistently sharp pain in your chest. Breathing in quick puffs, you slide your legs off the exam table just as the low beep of the Hab repressurizing catches your attention.

No time to rest. I’m not going to die here.

“Pressure stable.”

Forcing yourself to your feet, you watch as a figure slowly limps to the second door.

And then the door opens and you see Mark Watney turning to look the Hab doors, alive.

This has to be a dream.

“Watney,” you call out hoarsely, throat still raw from screaming. Trying to get up, you stifle a groan and walk around Chris’ desk. You stumble to him on unsteady legs and he catches you by the arms as you search his gaze. He looks like shit. “You okay?” Helping him rip off his suit, your eyes scan for injuries as his rest on your face, utter relief flooding the air. “Couldn’t just fucking die, huh?”

“Neither could you, apparently,” he shoots back through a clenched jaw and you laugh despite how much it aches.

Thank god, you’re not alone.

SOL 21

“So you’re blaming me,” Mark affirms as you count the amount of mac and cheese they have left in the Hab.

32. 33. 34. 35.

“I mean, you did crash into me,” you point out, picking up another pack. 36. 37. 38. “The dish completely destroyed my bio-monitor computer.”

“It wasn’t my choice to get completely slammed by it,” he shoots back, counting his packets of beef goulash. A cold pack is strapped to your neck and there’s a few more shoved underneath your shirt for your ribs, and your skin is numb to the touch as you take a sip of juice from your bottle. Acetaminophen went down three hours ago. It’ll be time to take it again in another despite Watney’s insistence on the morphine. No, you’re saving it for when things get serious.

39. 40. 41. 42.

Not that being stranded on Mars isn’t serious.

“Forty two mac and cheeses,” you announce victoriously, setting the final pack in the tray and pushing it towards his side of the table so he can put it back on the shelf later. “Meatballs up next.”

“We can probably ration this out to three-hundred fifty days. Two people eating instead of seven. Three-quarters of a meal.”

“I’ll have half,” you say, beginning all over again with new packets. 1. 2. 3.

“You need to eat more. You’re still on bed rest.”

“I’m fine. We have work to do if we don’t want to die on this planet, Mark.”

“No.”

“I can do EVA and clear the solar panels. I have whiplash, I’m not dead.” you argue but Mark merely sends you a look as if to say, Try me. You roll your eyes and wince when he comes around the table and pokes your side.

“You have broken ribs that are under enough stress as it is. If it were anyone else, you would tell them to lie the hell down.”

Tossing him a glare, you bite out, “I’m fine when random men don’t poke me in the ribs.”

“My bad. Beck’s privileges,” he quips and you just manage to snipe him in the back of the head with a mac and cheese pack before he turns around. He merely gives you a hint of a smile before tossing the pack back at you going back to writing. You sigh, placing the mac and cheese pack back into the tray before turning to your meatballs.

You hadn’t even thought about Chris ever since realizing you’re not alone stranded on Mars, at least not in depth. Your best friend is no doubt losing his mind over leaving you behind—always had such a strong guilt over nothing—and now, when you let yourself feel it, his absence carves something hollow in your chest.

You miss him.

“You think they even thought that we might be alive?” you ask Mark quietly. You’re not angry that they left you behind. It was the practical thing to do, but you wonder if they wonder about the possibility, or if they’d rather sleep easier at night.

“I think that’s all they think about,” Mark says. “Lewis is gonna beat herself over this.”

You think of the Commander, then your thoughts turn to Chris again without any prompting. God. And what will your parents say?

A Thanksgiving dinner without you there is probably gonna be a bit down in the dumps, huh.

Then again, they’d planned not to have you and Chris back this year, so maybe it wouldn’t be too awful despite thinking their only child is dead.

Yikes.

SOL 79

“So are you and Beck really a thing?” Mark asks as you help him pull out the potato plants gently. “You know, making idle conversation while we farm our shit potatoes,” he adds when you shoot him a glare. Your ribs are on the mend and your neck is regaining its range of motion, but it still aches so you have to rotate at your waist to face him completely before you return back to your own gardening.

“We’re best friends, Watney.” Picking up the larger of the potatoes and placing it gently into your bucket, you spot Mark on the other end of their tiny greenhouse out of the corner of your eye, giving you a small smug grin. “So no, we’re not a thing. We’ve never been like that.”

“Never. Not even a tiny little slip?”

“Never. I’ve known him since we were like three and it’s just… he’s been by my side since forever. There’s never been a time when we could’ve been more. Not with everything that goes on.” School, then uni, then med-school, flight academy, Ares 3. Always something more. “This is… actually kinda the longest I’ve been without him hanging around, to be honest.” The confession leaves you breathless. Has it really been seventy-one sols since you saw your best friend? Last heard his voice?

Will it be the last time ever? Will you spend the rest of your life feeling so empty inside because only Chris can fill it with his laugh? WIth his smile? The perennial feeling of missing someone is tragic all in itself.

You move on to the next potato plant and slowly wiggle it out of the dirt. “Why’re you asking?” you ask to distract yourself. “You know it’s not recommended by NASA to be in relationships within the crew. Besides, we have a mission to focus on.”

“That doesn’t stop Beck at all.”

“What are you even talking about?” You laugh, trying to ignore the thought of Chris’ tiny little smile on Hermes whenever he floated past while you were working out or when they’d open emails together. Hermes had been your home with him and now… he’s there.

Alone.

“You think we don’t see you two flirting? God, you’d be off together for hours at a time and we’d all make bets on what you guys were doing.”

“You know you can’t have sex in space, right?” you point out and Mark wrinkles his nose. “I don’t even want to try it.”

“You can, actually. It would be aerobic.”

“And if you flew into a tied condom somehow, it would be our fault,” you retort with a smile, heat flooding your face. The idea of just having sex in a place where all your friends could catch you in the act? And with Chris? A guy who’s been by your side since day one? The thought sends shivers down your spine. Pleasant shivers. It’s not like you imagined what it’d be like—to hold his hand, to kiss him, to… go farther.

“That’s gross.”

You blink, turning to look at Mark for a moment. “Not that we’re that irresponsible. We’re doctors. Being sanitary is in our nature.”

“Look, all I’m saying is, Beck made some comments before we launched and I thought he’d have made a move by now.”

“Who said he hasn’t?” you murmur low enough that only you can hear, trying not to think about the words he whispered on Hermes when he thought you were sleeping. God, those words had haunted you every day since and the only reason they’ve been out of your mind is the high possibility of your death on Mars. Louder, you say, “Probably because we’re just friends, Watney.”

Friends.

The word tastes bittersweet on your tongue as you pick up another potato.

SOL 136

HRM: Apparently, NASA’s letting us talk to you now, and I drew the short straw.

HRM: Sorry we left you two behind on Mars, but we just don’t like you. Also, it’s a lot roomier on Hermes without you guys. We have to take turns doing your tasks, but it’s only botany (not real science.) and Beck can still work with his broken little heart.

HRM: How’s Mars?

In the Rover, you’re piled in behind Mark as he types out a response and you laugh at the tiny jest at Chris.

RVR: Dear Martinez, Mars is fine. I accidentally blew up the Hab, but unfortunately all of Commander Lewis’ disco music still survived.

“For the record, Y/N appreciates something to listen to besides me talking to the camera for hours on end,” you say and he nods, smiling as he transcribes your message.

RVR: Every day we go outside and look at the vast horizons just because we can. I’m going to hand the reins over to Y/N now. I think she’s had enough of me talking all the time.

Mark glances back at you and nods, getting out of the driver’s seat one way while you shimmy into the seat the other way. Sliding into the seat, you settle down with a sigh as Mark peers over your shoulder and you poise your fingers over the keyboard.

HRM: Dear Y/N, how’re the ribs coming along? And for the record, I do not have a broken little heart, but I do miss you a lot. It’s getting boring here without you, especially now that I have to deal with Johanssen thinking she has a brain tumour every two minutes.

RVR: Dear Chris, I miss you, too. My ribs are completely healed, thank you. It’s a lot harder to sleep at night knowing there’s a chance we might not come home, but I think about you a lot. Mostly, I think about the crew and how if one of them gets a paper cut, your sutures will never be as straight as mine. By the way, Johanssen is my girl. Do not talk about her that way.

“He’s tryna make you jealous,” Mark sings teasingly under his breath and you turn to smack him with a gloved hand before waiting for the response.

HRM: We’ll work it out. I hope Watney isn’t taking my place as your best friend with his potatoes.

RVR: Well, have you ever wanted to hate someone but you can’t because they’re vital to your survival and also they grow potatoes?

HRM: Why do you think I keep you around? Your mom’s mashed potatoes, of course. I love it more than you do.

Your smile digs into your cheeks as you read that message, and you feel your throat cinch shut as you swallow.

RVR: No, you don’t. It’s simply not possible.

You hope he can hear you somewhere, just saying those words outloud. You hope it sounds like you just like how you can hear his voice with every word he types.

HRM: Come home safe, Y/N. Space would be lonely without you otherwise.

RVR: As if I’d let you live in space without me.

SOL 186

You wake up to an empty Hab.

There is no movement, no rustling of Watney trying to make ends meet as you remember last night’s news.

Kapoor: The Iris probe failed to launch. I’m sorry.

Rolling onto your side, you feel your stomach howl. Clutching your side, you close your eyes and try to fall back asleep but your internal clock is ringing in your ears and even though there’s nothing more on the list, you get up anyway, blanket wrapped around you. Ever since you’ve cut down on meals, you’ve been going hungrier and hungrier, but you’re not losing your fat yet, thank god. You need to stay warm.

Passing by clear plastic covering the hole in the Hab, your eyes search for where the Rover was parked last night.

Not there.

So, Mark’s gone and left already. The two of you had decided last night in your bunk beds to simply take the days as they came—to travel as much as they could, see it all before they go.

It’s grim in hindsight, but it’s your ending life now.

Heading for the cabinet, you feel your whole body drag against the floor as you fight to keep your strength up. Although you’ve felt like you’ve been starving for at least four days now, there’s a new hollowness at the realization that there isn’t more food coming. You microwave a potato and cut a meatloaf into thirds before lining your plate with the vitamins needed to stay healthy. Heading to your work station, your eyes pass over a picture of you and Chris is still framed there.

You bite into the potato and feel it thick against your tongue. It’s a struggle to chew and even harder to swallow but you manage it anyway as you reach for the frame. The two of you, cheeks pressed together, newly earned stethoscopes around your necks. The day you guys graduated med school.

You loved him then. You’ve loved him your whole damn life. Loved him and felt your heart burst when he said those words in your quarters after carrying you there from games night.

Sweet dreams, Y/N. I love you, even though I know we could never be more than this.

But you’ve always been too afraid to tell him. Afraid of what? Afraid because it could’ve changed things?

Isn’t that what you always wanted? For him to see you as you saw him?

Setting down the frame, you turn away. You bring your meager meal to the computer and log into HabJournal, slumping down in the chair as you pull the blanket tighter around you. The camera focuses on you and it begins to record immediately as you set down your plate on the table.

“So, Sol 186,” you begin quietly, looking at your own image. You’re beginning to lose colour in your skin and your eyes are sinking from lack of sleep, but you bring a piece of meatloaf to your mouth and chew regardless. “Last night we were told the Iris probe failed to launch, so that means we stretched our rations for four more days for nothing, basically.” You set down your fork and knife, the meat heavy on your tongue as you try to think of what to say. Thoughts of Chris, your parents, the crew, flood your mind. “Guess that means we’re going to starve to death and no… dark humour can’t pull us out of this one. We found enough morphine for two lethal injections our first night here, so… if worse comes to worse… I mean—” You clear your throat— “we have to think of every outcome. Mark already asked Commander Lewis to tell his parents, you know, covering bases like I said.” Your eyes slip shut for a moment as you exhale and then you rouse yourself again, staring at your half-eaten ration. You don’t want to eat anymore.

“I have to stay awake until tonight. He’s gone out with the Rover and I need to send a message to the people I love. You know, cover my bases, too.” Eyes drifting, you spot another picture of you and Chris in Hermes, floating as you squirt some food into the air for him to eat, thumbtacked to the board. You were both smiling, laughing until your guts ached. It must’ve been something like tubed chocolate mousse or a pudding. Your favourite, you had said because it was.

Chris has the biggest sweet tooth out of anyone you know.

“There’s a lot of things I wish I could’ve said, I think,” you add softly, gaze going back to the screen. You tuck your knees to your chest and smile bitterly, a chuckle escaping just barely. “It’s just so stupid that we survive all this time just to… just to die because something failed. Like we did everything we could and it still… it just isn’t enough.” Picking up the potato with your bare hands, you pop the quarter left into your mouth and simply watch your image eat. “I don’t want to die,” you clarify once you swallow. “It’s not my intention to give up until it’s too late for sure, but you know, at least we accomplished something this time. I mean, I’m still trying to finish Chris’ chemolithotrophic experiment since Mark doesn’t understand anything about it so Ares 4 can pick up where I left off.

You know, on the bright side, we still got somewhere. Mark’s the greatest botanist on this planet, and I’m honoured to have helped him grow the very first lifeform on Mars. We fucking ate organic human-shit potatoes, baby. We could’ve done this thing.” You stare at the camera, and hope, when Chris watches your final journal log, he understands what you mean. “We definitely could’ve done it and it sucks, but that’s life. I knew what I was doing when I signed up, and this is so much bigger than two humans stuck on Mars. I know Mark feels the same way. We don’t regret this. It’s going to be okay, and I hope you guys can finish the mission if we end up... you know, gone before we can. Anyway, I’m gonna go make myself useful and check up on Chris’ experiment.

“This is Dr. Y/L/N signing out.”

RVR: Hey, Chris. Today’s been alright. Mark came back in better spirits and he actually got to work today with the other crew’s duties. It’s good to hear him joking after what we heard last night.

RVR: I know we never really planned for things to go this way. You know we talked about the possibility as a joke, but now that it might become a reality, I hope you know what I said was serious. You know, with the whole talking to my parents thing. Please talk to them and tell them all about Mars, and tell them that I love them so much, and just see them. Try to go every weekend like we used to together. You know, let them check up on you.

RVR: Yeah, I’m not asking you to check up on them, because you’re family, Chris. I’m asking you to let them check up on you. They’ll always be your rock, and you need them, too. You’re gonna need them when I’m gone. Gonna need to tell ‘em that you’re not okay, because… you’re not going to be okay. I know you.

RVR: You’ll blame yourself because you think you should’ve gone out into a eighty-six hundred Newton storm and I wish I can be there in person to tell you that it’s stupid, that there was no reason for you to believe I was alive and that giving up on me saved your life, but I know I can’t. You wouldn’t believe me, anyway.

RVR: And I love you, too. We could’ve been way more than this. Maybe we can be, if we have another chance. I don’t know. I don’t know anything except that I love you. I’ve loved you my whole life, and now, it might be too late.

RVR: If I don’t make it out alive, please move on. Please don’t get hung up on me just because you think of all the things we could’ve been. You’re my best friend, Chris. I don’t want to see you sad. I never have. Cry a few tears, move on, find a nice girl who’ll love you like I never was brave enough to admit I do, and just… maybe visit the grave every once in a while. That would be nice.

Your hands tremble as you type in your last words and then hit Enter.

RVR: I miss you more than anything. I love you.

SOL 219

“I can’t believe I blurted out my feelings and now we’re preparing for a chance to go home,” you call out over the comms. Mark inflates the tarp on top of the Rover and you watch, the roll of tape still on your hand as you jump off the vehicle. You land with a solid thump, the dust stirring around your boots. Excitement is pulsing through your veins for the first time in a long time as you turn to watch your day’s work begin to swell. “Just like, three hundred more sols and we get to see our friends again.”

“Oh, don’t worry. We still have a chance of dying so it won’t all be so bad.”

“Way to ruin it, Watney,” you sigh as it reaches its max. “Looks good. I don’t see any seals.”

“Perfect. Besides, maybe it’ll be a good thing you finally said what you needed to say to Beck. God knows it was suffocating just watching you two,” the astronaut adds, walking around the Rover and you shoot him a glare. “It was cute, but just plain annoying.”

“Why do you feel the need to bring this up every single time?” you retort, heading back for the Hab despite Watney’s calls of your name. He walks after you with a little wince to his step and you make a mental note to prepare a hot bath. He had strained his back a few days ago lifting rocks to test how far the Rover could go with all the extra weight and you’ve got nothing for sore muscles beside muscle relaxants and hot packs.

“Because Commander Lewis definitely would’ve moved you two to the same bed if it meant you two would shut up with the flirting. We’re all single on that ship!”

“Watney,” you deadpan, turning to look at your friend as he catches up to you. “You and Johanssen are the only people single on that ship as of this moment. And no, she wouldn’t. Can you imagine how embarrassing that would be?” As if I hadn’t already sneaked into Chris’ quarters more than once because of the excitement of going into space, the fear that we won’t make it back, your head adds but you keep your mouth shut about that.

“Aha! So you admit you’re no longer available!”

“I have never been emotionally available on this mission!” you shoot back, exasperated. “Or ever!”

“See, that’s what you say.”

“Do you want a hot bath or not because I can use up the hot water. Don’t try me.” You really wouldn’t but it’s fun to see the slight panic in Mark’s eyes. “I miss him, yeah, and so what if I have feelings for him?”

“Then, Martinez owes me fifty bucks.”

“You’re literally the worst,” you mutter, grabbing onto the Hab door and twisting it open. “I’ve got to check up on Chris’ experiment. Run your own damn bath.” Mark closes the door behind him and the chamber begins to pressurize.

“Oh, now you’re being mean.”

“Pressure stable.”

Twisting off your helmet, you turn to Mark and shove your glove into his helmet, pushing him back. He stumbles back and you laugh as he fights to find his balance. He tries to grab you to pull you back with him but you walk out of reach, opening the second door and entering the Hab.

“Mean!”

SOL 461

You’re losing your body fat at last ever since they’ve begun to run out of food which means you’re getting colder and colder in the same environment every day. There’s nothing you can do but keep your calories at a minimum level to stay alive as long as possible as you put on your space suit for what you hope is the last time.

“Your beard is gross,” you call out to Mark as you slide on your helmet and he wrinkles his nose at you, writing down 461 on the wall. Turning to you, he is about to exit when he remembers his helmet and you smirk. “Space pirate.”

“We’re space pirates,” he agrees. “Why don’t we explore those waters, Captain?”

You smirk, turn on your arm computer and hone in on Mark’s telemetry signal as a test before nodding.

“Aye aye, Captain.”

SOL 524

“Hey, wake up.” Jolting awake, you glance blearily up Mark’s thin face and you groan, blinking the sleep out of your eyes. “We’ve gotta eat and clean up a bit.” Groaning, you sit up and follow him out of the Rover as your bones clamour inside your suit. You’ve lost almost all the meat off your limbs, your ribs peeking out underneath your skin, and you feel like you could be blown away by a soft breeze.

Inside the inflated structure, you strip down to nothing and turn your back to Watney as he prepares the meals of potatoes and whatever’s left at this rate. Running a wet pad over your bruising skin, your teeth chatter and you try to ignore the fact that the divets in your arms where muscle used to be are starting to look a bit too hollow. You feel empty inside, like you haven’t been full for ages, and as you crouch down to rub down your legs, you wonder how you look.

Pitifully small, probably.

It’s how Watney looks with his hobo beard at least. Blood is gathering underneath his skin, the beginnings of contusions blooming along the notches on his spine and you sigh. There’s only so much their paper-thin skin can do at this rate.

“What’ve we got?” you ask, pulling on a shirt and crouching beside him. He nudges a bowl of wet beans and half a raw potato towards you. “Yum.”

“It’s all we’ve got at this rate,” Mark mumbles quietly. He’s losing it, too. When NASA can’t see them, you see what Mark’s really like. He’s exhausted to the core, and losing more energy every day. You pretend you don’t realize he’s giving you the majority of the food because it’s a survival tactic. Just like how if Hermes crew doesn’t make it, Johanssen is having human meat soup for eight more months after the rations run out because she’s the youngest, smallest, and she’ll know how to get back to Eartha alone. Well, not 100% alone. Her and five other carcasses.

The thought makes your stomach growl.

The thought of anything warm and filling is making it quail in protest, even if it is human flesh.

Well, that’s a bit fucked up.

Then again, you’re removing everything that protects you from space on the MAV once you reach it, so maybe cannibalistic thoughts aren’t so out of reach. It’s not like you’d actually act on them.

Watney’s all skin and bone at this point. Skin that’s beginning to break, bones that are hollowing out, and you’d rather die than eat your friend.

“If you’re thinking about eating me,” he says warily when you’ve gone on too long staring at his plate of potatoes and beans. “Please don’t. Wait until we actually run out of food, yeah?” You chuckle, your lungs wheezing as you bite into the raw potato.

“Aye aye, Captain.”

SOL 561

Turning around, you listen to Mark climb up the MAV. You’re sitting down on the edge of the hole, sliding your leg into a flight spacesuit. Your mind is running over all the possible outcomes for riding a spaceship with essentially no protection and you don’t know how to broach the topic of the effect of G-force on the human body.

“Hey, Watney.”

“Hey.”

“So,” you begin, pushing yourself up and heading for where the top half of your suit is suspended on harnesses. Mark turns to you and you sigh, pausing. His eyes find yours and you’re surprised to see how much trust lay within them. Before, sure, it’d been full of amusement, the mirth of his latest jest potent in his eyes, but now, that blue gaze is muted with respect and you can’t help but mirror that. They did this together and they’re going home together no matter what.

“So,” he mutters with a note of finality. He walks past you to grab the hygiene bag on the bench, unzipping it to uncover a razor and he heads for the mirror as you wring out your hands.

“When we launch, we might get up to 12 G’s.”

“Yeah?”

Your eyes try not to linger on the dried blood on his shoulder as he switches the razor on. “So, we’re gonna pass out, almost definitely. And we might have internal bleeding, cracked ribs.” The razor buzzes inside your skull as you lower your hands. “Chris is the EVA specialist, but even if he does catch us—”

“You know the point of it all is that they tried, you know?” Mark says. “Because if they do catch us, that means we have another way of saving more astronauts.”

“This was a freak of a mission, Watney,” you reply, adjusting the waist of the suit. You ignore the pallor of your skin and instead, push yourself towards him. Your booted feet are heavier than bricks as he watches you approach in the mirror.

“Well, it was an honour to share it with you, Captain.” His eyes find yours through the reflection and you grin through the glass despite the fatigue weighing you down. You touch his arm tentatively and he sets the razor down before he turns around. “Nice knowing ya, Mrs. Beck,” he teases and you roll your eyes before pulling him into a shaking hug.

Your eyes close tightly and you do your best to ignore the fact that you both smell like shit as his arms wrap around you, too.

“We’ll see if we can make it work first,” you whisper. His arms seem to tighten and you let out a sharp sigh. “I don’t want to get sappy on you until I’m literally staring into the face of death, but this was a once in a lifetime mission, Mark. I’m glad you were here with me.”

“Yeah. Who else would’ve complained as much as you did?” he mocks and you laugh against him, fingers digging into the notches of his spine as you close your eyes for a moment, simply breathing in and out.

“This could work.”

He pulls back, smiles, and his eyes dart over the redness along the edges of your face, too. The vessels around your eyes run as they try to keep your blood pumping and you can see the same roughness in his cheeks and eyes as he nods. “This could work.”

Clapping his arm, you leave him to shave to put on the top half of your flight spacesuit.

Only the climb up to the MAV remains.

“Hold my hand as soon as you cut,” you say over the comms. Mark might be absolutely delighted by the idea, but as you watch Hermes approach from the distance, you can’t help the feeling of apprehension tightening in your gut. “We let go, we lose each other in space.”

“Yeah. I’m not letting you go at this point,” he says and you smile before he counts down. “Three. Two. One.” As soon as you dig the knife through your suit, you reach for Mark only to be launched back first into the MAV. Your rebroken ribs from the G-force protest in pain and you let out a grunt as you slam against Mark, but your uncut glove flails blindly, fingers trying to snag onto Mark still bouncing around with you. He latches onto one of the chairs and you fling out an arm, hooking elbows with him and clamping your open glove into a fist.

“Mark, report.”

Giving Mark a panicked smile, you just nod as he replies, “On our way, Commander.”

On cue, the two of you release your fists and are launched into space. Unstable and tumbling, they spiral through space as they try to regain some balance and you wrestle against Mark’s arm pulling you off course as you angle your wrist outward, trying to realign yourself with Lewis. Letting go of Mark’s arm for a moment, you manage to snag onto Lewis, her elbow hooking onto your arm as you’re yanked back and you grunt, whole body snapping back. Mark’s hand digs into your leg but it slips and you glance back, terrified to see him swallowed up by the blackness surrounding them everywhere.

“Mark!” Readjusting yourself, you grab onto the tether as Mark manages to wrap his own hand on the orange rope and you pull with all your might. Black stars burst into your vision as the last of your strength goes and you let out a grunt as Lewis begins to spin them around. Mark whirls around them as she pulls and you simply hold on, your eyes beginning to slip shut. The sound of Mark’s fight echoes in your ears and you’re shackled with that god awful hope that maybe they’re making it out of this alive—

A body slams into you and helmets clink together as Mark joins their little duo. Hands grab onto arms and the orange tether floats around them like silk ribbon as the sound of harsh breathing fills the comms.

“I got ‘em!” Lewis calls out, voice breaking and you smile, tilting your head forward against Lewis’ helmet. “I got ‘em.” Laughing, you grab onto Mark tightly and he glances at you for a moment before the two of you both look at Lewis.

“It’s good to see you,” he pants. “You… have terrible taste in music.”

As the tether tightens and they’re reeled in, you wrap an arm around Mark’s helmet and push yourself against him.

“Good job, Captain,” you cheer and he laughs, barely able to contain himself. A similar lightness fills your chest and you can’t help the stress-free laughs, the release of all that energy in your chest as you tilt your head back and laugh no matter how much it hurts to breathe. You’re pulled into the airlock and you detach first when you catch sight of Chris standing by the tether. Swimming towards him, you outstretch your arms and crash into him, helmets clinking.

“Beck, close the hatch.”

Chris’ arms wrapped around yours, he reaches to press the button as Lewis parks and Watney swims past to the other end of the airlock.

“Hey, guys.”

You haven’t seen your friends in more than a year, but right now, you’re only focused on one face. “Chris,” you whisper and his smile is everything in your universe as he touches your helmet, like he’s not quite sure you’re real.

“Houston,” Lewis’ breathless voice echoes in your ears as he pulls you in tightly for a hug. Your helmets scrape but you don’t care, simply melting into the arms of your best friend. “Seven crew safely aboard.”

The other end of the airlock hisses open and you detach yourself from Chris’ arms to see the other three swim in and you laugh, turning to your best friend with a huge smile. He holds you still, twisting off his gloves and helping you take off your helmet as you take off your own gloves and your cheeks are aching as your flesh touches cold glass. Until you can feel him, you won’t know it’s real.

And then his hands are on yours, and you know.

“Chris,” you repeat again, the name so familiar on your tongue you don’t know how you’ve gone a day without saying it. He reaches to take off his own helmet and wrinkles his nose when he first gets a whiff of you but you don’t care. You don’t care about impressions or smells or appearances anymore.

You just want him.

Flinging your arms around his neck, you tear off his stupid cap and run your fingers through his hair. It’s dry but downey between your fingers that have touched nothing but metal and plastic for more than a year and you cry. You bury your face into his neck and cry out his name as he simply squeezes you tight against him.

“I love you,” he chokes out and you pull back, cheeks brushing against yours as you smile. His small smile curls his lip and you brush the tear away from his face.

“I love you, too.”

“I love you, guys,” Mark cries out, barging into their conversation with a faux whimper and the newly reunited best friends part with a yelp as their whole crew wraps them in a huge hug.

Surrounded by so many bodies, you have never felt so warm and loved. When you meet Chris’ gaze, you feel the hole inside you begin to fill again.

DAY 1

“How’re you feeling?”

The soft mumble against your ear makes you blink away from the screen revealing the info dumps coming through, and you turn to look at Chris, eyes studiously on yours. That same soft smile is ever present on his lips as you shrug with a wince, and his eyes flit to your vitals.

The med bay is empty except for Watney sleeping the drugs off and you place your hand gently on Chris’. His hand twists, fingers weaving with yours and you smile, easing into your pillows.

“Did you sleep here all night?” you ask quietly, raising an eyebrow and he shrugs, leaning onto your bed by the elbows and pressing your hand against his cheek.

The reunion was short-lived after their return. After all, there were injuries that needed to be assessed, malnutrition that needed to be addressed, a whole hygiene regime that needed to be followed, and a lot of sleep to catch up on.

“Maybe,” he whispers and you laugh, shaking your head free and patting his cheek. “I don’t want you out of my sight. I close my eyes and all I can imagine is losing you again.” Lips twitching into a frown, your eyebrows knit together at his kicked expression. You wonder if he can still read your message by memory as you know it by heart. “You scared the shit out of me, Y/N.”

“‘M sorry, Chris,” you murmur and he sighs, closing his eyes with a flutter of his eyelashes. Tears burn down his cheeks as he presses his lips together. “I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you.”

“It’s not your fault,” he replies. You scoot to the side of your bed despite your ribs yawning in pain and pat the small space beside you. “You need to rest, Y/N. Get back to sleep and I’ll hit you with a dose of the good stuff when you wake up,” he bargains but you still shake your head.

“I don’t need the good stuff,” you say. “I just need you.” His eyes widen just so and your smile grows as the warmth inside you spreads to your fingers. Moving your I.V. lines, you make sure the space is clear for him. “C’mon. Get up here.” He tilts his head, debating it in that brain of his before he gets off his chair, climbing carefully into the small bed. He slides an arm around your shoulders, settling onto his side and you sigh, shimmying closer once he settles. His heat wraps around you, his other arm draping across your chest. His nose nuzzles into your cheek and his breath puffs against your neck as you close your eyes.

Home. Finally home.

“Y/N?” you hear his mumble and you turn your face blindly towards him. He smells like antibiotic cream and sweat, and you barely open your eyes as he looks up at you, blue eyes filled with a tenderness that tells you you’re safe now. “I love you.”

“Yeah?” you whisper, and he smiles.

“Yeah.”

“Good. ‘Cause I love you, too.”

And he tilts his chin just so to kiss you.

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