#it's like suggesting one of my friends that's going to study robotics to be a industrial engineer lol

[the-dragon-invasion-is-near]

i love/sarcasm that every single time i tell someone i want to go to x university to x state (in México), the conversation goes like this

+"oh, what do you want to study?"

-" [carreer in x university]"

+"the one in y state?"

-"oh no, i don't want to live there, people say it's awful, i'm going to x state"

+"but x state is so dangerous rn! why don't you study here?" (note: my state is ALSO dangerous, it's just, y'know, home)

-"there isn't any university in here that has x carreer"

i just want to study bugs and plants and animals and stuff why is it so hard abshabshba

i wish people could happy for me instead of worried when i talk about my plans, like yea it's justified, we all know about the stuff that is going on everywhere, but still.

[pep-the-artemis]

Is CYN Autistic and is She Good Representation?

Murder Drones ⟨00⟩ is an indie show about robots; created by Glitch Productions ⟨01⟩; directed by Liam Vickers ⟨02⟩: all episodes are free to watch on YouTube and I do recommend watching. The show follows a robot girl named Uzi and her best friend N; CYN (the subject of this post) is N’s adoptive younger sister. Many people in the Murder Drones fandom (including myself) have identified her as being autistic but is this the case and is she a good representation? 

In this post I will try to go over all the evidence we have which suggests she is/isn’t autistic and discuss what it means to be a good representation. I have split this post into three parts,

Is CYN Autistic (Minor Spoiler warning)

Is CYN Autistic (Major Spoiler warning)

What is Good Representation and does CYN qualify?

If you enjoy reading this, consider reblogging and checking out my other post where I go into the science behind "if N is colour blind?⟨3⟩”. I must forewarn, I am not a medical doctor nor am I qualified in any adjacent fields relating to disabilities, I am just an autistic person who enjoys film theory.

All references used are linked too and also supplied at the bottom.

[image transcript; a picture of the character CYN from Murder Drones Episode 5 sitting behind a bar counter holding a ceramic teacup]

The first point I want to make is to address the possible concerns over CYN being a Worker Drone (the name given to one type of robot in Murder Drones) as, in media, autistic people are often negatively represented through machines. This is not the case here, in the show most characters are robots and behave neurotypically; the behaviours and mannerisms of CYN will expressly be discussed in comparison to the rest of the cast. This will also be discussed more in greater detail later in the post.

Part 1 - Evidence : Minor Spoiler Warning

Posture

The manner in which CYN stands gives us multiple strong indications that she is neurotypical. Contrary to common belief, autism both affects a person mentally and physically with a strong overlap between the two⟨04⟩. 

[image transcript; a picture of the character CYN from Murder Drones Episode 5 standing looking upwards towards the camera smiling with a crooked posture]

Going from top to bottom, the notable traits are;

CYN is very short, being estimated to be ~100cm or ~3'4''. For comparison, most Worker Drones are around 132cm or 4'4''. This is likely due to her being a child but there have been studies which have found that Autistic people are generally taller than their neurotypical counterparts⟨05⟩.

CYN holds her head at a tilt which is an common autism stim⟨06⟩. We also see that she often uses her hand to adjust her head or to hold it in support, leading to the conclusion that she has hypotonia (weak “muscles”) which is characterised by symptoms like difficulty holding the head up, difficulties with sitting up⟨07⟩, and poor posture; all identified in CYN. The source just provided focuses mainly on infants but I did manage to find a case study of a ten year old written by Mark Hutten⟨08⟩. I also found an interesting study saying head tilting can assist in helping an autistic person with facial recognition⟨09⟩.

CYNs elbows are constantly bent over a 90 degree angle pulling her arms towards her chest. This is known as “T-Rex Arms” in the autistic community and is usually believed to be a form of stimming⟨10⟩. 

When not being used, CYNs hands are constantly limp. This is a commonly seen extension to the “T-Rex Arms”. I was unable to find a scholarly article but I did find a discussion point by the online influencer Autistic Emmalyn⟨11⟩.

CYN leans towards her left leg and her right leg is distinctly more bent, this is common in autistic people caused by what's known as “Leg length discrepancy”⟨12⟩. Note, I've found contradictory evidence for what causes “Leg length discrepancy”; does the posture decrease leg length, does the leg length induce posture, or is differing leg length an illusion. It is also unusual for both legs to be bent so it's hard to say with certainty this is the cause.

CYN points her feet inwards which is known as in-toeing which is a common symptom of autism although only generally present in young children⟨13⟩. In-toeing can be caused by “femoral anteversion”: I found no study directly correlating “Femoral Anteversion” and autism but I did find a study which correlated hypermobility with autism⟨14⟩ and a study which correlated “Femoral Anteversion'' with hypermobility⟨15⟩. Hypermobility has also been shown to be correlated with hypotonia⟨16⟩.

CYN is seen pulling her thighs inwards which is a sign of autism and many autistic people (specifically autistic children) do it to help them find balance⟨13⟩.

Note that there is one scene in which she doesn’t stand in the manner described above, in this scene she is not the focus and she’s very much obscured. I believe at this point this is likely an animation error. I will be discussing this in greater detail later on but cannot currently due to the problem of spoilers.

[image transcript; a picture of the character CYN from Murder Drones Episode 5. The shot is of her standing neurotypically from behind while holding a ceramic teacup]

Walking

The problem with discussing the manner in which CYN walks is that we get limited shots of her walking, particularly unsupported. The best evidence we do have comes from the gala preparations in episode 5 but in that scene the lower parts of her legs are obscured and she is taking aid from N. There are other scenes where we somewhat see her walk but they each come with their own problems.

[image transcript; a picture of CYN (left) walking holding onto her older brother N (right)]

By comparing the number of times CYN and N’s head bob while walking together we get an indication of their respective stride lengths, by watching the scene at 0.25 speed CYN takes ~16 steps and N takes ~9 steps. Since they’re walking in tandem, we can conclude that CYNs stride length is 9/16=~0.5625 times that of N’s. Since stride length and height are directly proportional17, we can take into account their height difference by multiplying by the ratio of their heights (132cm/100cm=1.32) which gives us 1.32*0.5625=0.7425 so even when height is taken into account, CYNs stride length is significantly smaller than N’s and a smaller stride length is a symptom of autism⟨17⟩. This is also backed up in other scenes where we see CYN move and her stride appears very short.

While walking with N, her gait (distance between feet) is neurotypical, in other scenes where we see her walk, without aid, this is not the case so this is a direct example of where we cannot be certain of the information we’re getting from the gala preparation scene. A wider gait length is a sign of autism⟨18⟩.

When looking at the movement of her kneecaps compared to N and the other servants, she has a distinct increased hip flexion which is a symptom of autism which is an action taken to mitigate the effects of autism on mobility⟨18⟩.

Although she has an increased hip flexion, her knee’s do not appear to bend significantly which is another sign of autism along with limited ankle movement⟨18⟩. We only see one shot in the show where we see CYN feet while she’s moving and in that she takes only one small step backwards but it does seem that her ankles don’t bend, I am reluctant to push this as evidence due to how limited the data is.

In the cathedral scene, we see that she seemingly pauses between steps as she walks (this behaviour is not present when walking with N). This is referred to as an increase in the stance phrase which is a sign of autism⟨18⟩.

Oral

CYN (voiced by Allanah Fitzgerald⟨19⟩) has a very distinct manner in which she talks, for those unaware her voice sounds very reminiscent of Siri/Alexa which strongly contrasts most other characters in the show who have fully articulated voices. Without going into details (to avoid spoilers), there is an argument that can be made that her voice is the default for Worker Drones.

[image transcript; a picture of the character CYN from Murder Drones Episode 5 kneeling on a bar counter holding up her head with the back of her hand]

Here is a transcript of a conversation between CYN and N.

N       - *walking in*

CYN - “You seem, upset—big brother—N. Perhaps you'd like to attend the gala with me?—light sip”

N        -  “Ahh, not sure we’re invited, little buddy. Why not just hang with me?”

CYN - “climbing, criss cross applesauce—am I—not wanted, N?”

N        - “aww dude, you know its her parents… ahh, don’t give me those eyes”

CYN - “giggle, I am so naughty.”

certain parts of N’s lines being altered to avoid spoilers (CYNs lines have been left virtually unchanged).

The most obvious part of her language is her rigid voice, it is very monotone. This is not hard to correlate to Autism as ‘robotic’ is a common descriptor used to describe one of the ways people who are autistic talk⟨20⟩. I do want to mention that although her voice is robotic, she isn’t emotionless, through her actions it is clear she can feel a wide range of complex emotions including humour and annoyance; it's just she struggles showing it⟨23⟩.

CYN also uses phrases when performing certain actions such as “criss cross applesauce” when she is sitting down; this is a sign of Echolalia⟨20⟩ which is very common for autistic people⟨20⟩. Her phrase “you’d like to attend the gala with me” also gives the implications of delayed Echolalia⟨21⟩. Note, certain things she vocalises like “giggle” and “annoyed expression” aren’t Echolalia.

CYN does not show any sins of having narrow interests which is usually a common  symptom of Autism⟨20⟩. This may be a result of her limited screen presence as we don’t get significant indications of any of her interests.

Since we don’t see CYN through multiple stages of her life, it is difficult to determine if her language skills have developed unevenly⟨20⟩. She does mix childish and formal language together as she talks which can be interpreted as implying uneven language skills. I think the explanation of Echolalia fits better.

[image transcript; a close up picture of the character CYN from Murder Drones Episode 5 kneeling on a bar counter holding out her hands making an excited expression with her tongue out] (author note, do not question why she has a tongue)

Her face, although much less emotive, isn’t devoid of emotion; she can somewhat show emotions like fear and can be very expressive but only in a rigid and forced manner although her face is usually unexpressive. She also sometimes she visually shows the wrong emotions like with the picture above she is excited but here eyes are showing the scared emotion. All these is very stereotypical of autistic people and defies the common stereotype⟨22⟩.

Now we have come to the end of part 1, which is sad ): . Please consider reblogging, this took a lot of time and research to put together and I'm sure there's still mistakes and inaccuracies. So what conclusions can we draw from this information… not much since a lot of important information has been left out since they cannot be discussed without major spoilers for the show. Thank you for reading.

References

⟨0⟩Liam Vickers | Murder Drones Episodes

⟨1⟩Luke and Kevin Lerdwichagul | Glitch Productions

⟨2⟩Liam Vickers | Liam Vickers Productions

⟨3⟩pep-the-artemis | Is N ColourBlind?

⟨4⟩I lost the intended link | so here’s a cat

⟨5⟩Interactive Autism Network | Relationship Between Autism and Height

⟨6⟩Carmen B. Pingree | Signs of Autism

⟨7⟩Medical News Today | Hypotonia

⟨8⟩Mark Hutton | Hypotonia Case Study

⟨9⟩NeuroScience News | Head Tilt Social Engagement

⟨10⟩Cross River Therapy | T-Rex Arms in Autism

⟨11⟩Autistic Emmalyn | Autistic Arms

⟨12⟩YAI | Posture and Gait of Autistic Individuals

⟨13⟩NHS | In-Toeing

⟨14⟩National Library of Medicine | The Relationship Between Generalised Joint Hypermobility and Autism Spectrum Disorder in Adults: A Large, Cross-Sectional, Case Control Comparison

⟨15⟩National Library of Medicine | Is there a correlation between the femoral anteversion angle and the elasticity of the hip muscles in cases of intoeing gait due to increased femoral anteversion angle?

⟨16⟩The Royal Childrens Hospital Melbourne | Low muscle tone

⟨17⟩Scientific America | Stepping Science: Estimating Someone's Height from Their Walk

⟨18⟩National Library of Medicine | Gait deviations in children with autism spectrum disorders: a review

⟨19⟩Allanah Fitzgerald | FitzyVA

⟨20⟩National Institute of Hearing | Autism Spectrum Disorder: Communication Problems in Children 

⟨21⟩The Autism Therapy Group | Echolalia in Autism: What It Is and How To Treat It

⟨22⟩app2vox | Understanding autism and emotions

[xelasrecords]

The Oasis Is Beautiful From Up Close

Han Jumin x Reader x Kim Jihyun

NSFW

Jumin, you, and Jihyun are having an intimate photography session and fooling around because you and your lovers are no longer at death's door.

A vee polyamory in which you're romantic with Jumin and Jihyun while their relationship is platonic.

Words: 2.9k

Masterlist Read on AO3

"Hold it—yes, right there. You're lovely, my dearest," Jihyun said in a half crouch.

Your sharp gaze held the camera steady as shutter sounds filled his cluttered bedroom. He didn't set up any professional lighting and relied on the late afternoon sun to accentuate your profile. After doing a lot of shoots together, you both preferred this session to be more personal and intimate without the high-end magazine polish.

This started because you had been teasing him more than usual, after all. From not wearing a bra to flouncing about his home in a scanty dress the whole day, Jihyun's hands had been all over you until he collected himself enough to commence this photoshoot.

Jumin had also been the one to suggest you not to wear anything underneath.

They both liked what they saw and you liked being watched with unrestrained desire.

Jumin was now looming behind his best friend, clinging so close that Jihyun had to shift him bodily away. It didn't matter though. He would just glue himself back to Jihyun's side. He needed to learn everything there was to know about modelling photography or he would be cursed in not being able to capture his beloved's beauty.

He had repeated this more times than you could be bothered to count.

When Jihyun accidentally knocked his elbow into Jumin for the third time, you decided to put an end to Jihyun's suffering. Jumin's ribs would live to see another day, but you weren't sure if you would at the rate this photoshoot was going. "Jumin, do you want to take a picture of my corpse?"

Jumin gave you an incredulous look. "Why would I ever dream of doing that?"

"That would happen if you don't let Jihyun take good pictures of me. I'm rotting here. Rotting."

His brows furrowed and he lifted your arms and twisted your head side to side. "No, you're not. You're perfectly alive. And beautiful."

"Jumin, could you please move aside? You're covering her whole body." Jihyun's voice wafted from behind.

Jumin uttered an apology and swiftly assumed his original position beside Jihyun. He studied Jihyun's laid-back stance, the camera's distance from his body, and the firmness of his grip, and mimicked him with stiff precision. "So that is how you take a good shot," he murmured.

You rolled your eyes and laughed. It was impossible to be annoyed at him when his curiosity about mundane things kicked in. You struck another pose, looking over your shoulder with your back turned to them. You tried to compose yourself, but the sight of Jumin suspended in a robotic half-crouch was so absurd that you had to cover your smile with your arm.

"Jihyun isn't crouching anymore, you know."

Jumin's hands didn't fall away from his phantom camera, fingers crooked to form a perfect rectangle. "But he was when he took the previous shot."

In a minuscule gesture at Jihyun, you motioned your head towards Jumin.

A childlike grin bloomed across Jihyun's face. He directed his camera on Jumin's trembling body and clicked the shutter button.

Jumin blinked at him. "Isn't she the muse of the day?" he asked, still retaining the same posture.

"You're much more entertaining to shoot than me," you chirped.

Jihyun let out an airy chuckle. "I'm giving her a break. Perhaps you want to take the spotlight while she's resting?"

"She's supposed to be the model of the day."

You looked pointedly at his bent legs then glanced at Jihyun, who only shook his head in resignation. You pressed your mouth before laughter escaped you and posed again. Jumin's eyes flitted back and forth, trying to comprehend what had passed between you and Jihyun.

You shrugged and blew a kiss at him, mouthing I love you, and Jihyun captured your gesture. When he approached you to take a close-up shot of your face, Jumin inched closer as well. He was so desperate to take a peek at the viewfinder that he butted heads with Jihyun.

Jihyun yelped and rubbed at his temple. "Sometimes it feels as if I have adopted a koala who can't let go of me," he said, albeit with a smile.

"You feed him with too much patience."

"Would you two stop bad-mouthing my effort in taking focused shots of you? This is unacceptable. What have I done to withstand this slander? You should be more understanding of my love." Jumin huffed out his suit jacket and crossed his arms with a dramatic flair. "And I would make an adorable koala."

You placed Jumin's hand on your waist and he drew you in by habit. "Our next photoshoot can be of you in a koala costume." You tickled his chin.

"We have been very understanding of you, my friend." Jihyun clapped a hand on his shoulder. "No professional photographer or model would want their session to be obstructed."

"And yet here you are, still alive and breathing in this room." You winked. "Aren't we generous?"

Jumin scoffed. "Do you suppose I should be alive and breathing somewhere else?"

You planted a kiss on his lips. "We want you here."

Not a moment later, you felt his fingers weaving into your hair, tugging at it with pleasurable force. You pushed your body up against him when you heard zooming and clicking sounds from Jihyun. Jumin ran his thumb across your shoulder and slowly dragged the strap of your silk dress down, humming in affirmation. You gasped as he trailed kisses down your neck and sucked at the skin on your collarbone.

In the haze of it, you blindly grabbed at Jihyun's shirt. He complied without resistance and positioned himself behind you. You slumped against him, indulging in the warmth of their bodies enveloping you. You could feel them everywhere; Jihyun was tucking your hair aside to kiss a sensitive spot behind your ear, while Jumin's hand had crawled up your inner thigh and was sliding his fingers into you.

You reached up for Jihyun, and his lips were on yours in an instant. It was a soft nip in the beginning, searching for your permission, and you gladly let him in. He deepened the kiss and your hips bucked against Jumin's fingers, earning a chuckle from him.

With his other hand, Jumin took the camera from Jihyun, freeing him to use both hands to roam across your breasts. Then slowly, Jumin pulled out his fingers and brushed them against your swollen lips. You sucked on them without a word, keeping your gaze on him the whole time while you swirled your tongue around his fingers. You knew he liked seeing you like this, knew what he was imagining you doing instead.

You wanted to turn around to face Jihyun, but Jumin stopped you. "Don't move. I want to immortalise you in this state. The lust in your expression is terribly tempting." He smiled at you and stepped back. "Jihyun, wrap one arm around her and cradle her face with your free hand. Show her off to me."

"He is strangely good at directing," you murmured into Jihyun's ear.

"It's hardly strange when a huge part of his job is telling people what to do." Jihyun obeyed Jumin's directions and pulled you closer. His touch was exhilarating, and the thrill rose exponentially when you noticed Jumin's satisfaction.

"Fortunately for the two of you, you get off on being told what to do," said Jumin who had an acute sense of hearing when it concerned Jihyun's and your opinions.

You smirked. He did always know you well.

Jihyun kissed your temple. You leaned your head against his chest and his hand snaked up your neck and rested on your jaw. You parted your lips, sucking in a breath, and pushed out your chest until your rumpled dress almost exposed your body.

"You can take a photo now," said Jihyun.

Jumin bent forward at a lower angle than was probably necessary, and clicked the shutter button with a palpable jolt that reverberated throughout his limbs. You raised your eyebrows and Jihyun tilted his head in question.

Then, Jumin had the audacity to look shocked at the brief preview on the camera screen.

Disbelief passed across his features as he fell back onto the bed.

You suppressed your smile and sat beside him with Jihyun in tow. The said bed was really a mattress strewn across the hardwood floor with swathes of blankets thrown atop it. Jumin had not given up on coaxing Jihyun to buy a proper bedframe, but you had.

Whatever floated his boat into dreamland.

"Let me see," you said.

Jumin scrunched his nose and zoomed into the picture. "Your nose and lips are clear. Not so much of your eyes, or even your hair. But Jihyun is a blur."

"Fitting." You looked deep in thought. "You know how hard it is to comprehend his essence as a whole."

"My essence?" Jihyun's response came out bewildered.

Jumin folded the heap of blankets so Jihyun wasn't constantly shifting in place, but Jihyun just draped it back around Jumin. Knowing that his body ran colder than the rest of you, you were touched that Jihyun was thoughtful to this degree. He had always been. It was one of the many qualities you liked from him.

"Please don't theorise. This isn't an art piece up for discussion," said Jumin.

"I'm simply giving you a leeway to rationalise your mistake," you said, sitting sideways in Jihyun's lap. He was still looking at you quizzically, but he placed his hand on the top of your thigh and squeezed it.

It sent a buzz of current throughout your skin and you shivered.

"I will do better." Jumin sighed. "Someday I will master Jihyun's photography skills and finally deserve your compliments."

You ran your hand through his tousled black hair. "You take good enough pictures."

"I'm aware that I have not been able to capture all your facial features in one shot."

"My nose was quite pretty in the one you took yesterday."

"That was the only visible thing in the photo."

"You have humbled him." Jihyun chuckled. "He was never this receptive of his photography flaws. I had given up and chosen to keep the blurred Elizabeth the Third pictures to myself. It's the intention that matters, after all."

"Intention must translate into execution," Jumin insisted. "It's imperative that I practice as much as I can."

"Today's picture is already an improvement." You climbed out of Jihyun's lap and lay on the bed. "Come, I've missed you two." You patted the space on your sides.

Jihyun flung himself on the mattress with a soft thud, arms out wide, and your body bounced on impact. You laughed and wormed into his embrace. The golden rays from outside the window fell on just the right places: his lush turquoise hair, the delicate arch of his nose, and his pale, pale skin so thin that you could easily discern the blue veins running below.

You had to convince yourself that he was healthy. He was all right. All of you were finally happy.

His blood was no longer shed on skirmish grounds. He could finally exist without having to fight for his right to be. Jumin did not have to uphold Jihyun's reason to live anymore, because he had found many reasons to.

Or maybe there were only two. But that was enough.

He gleamed now, instead of being swallowed by the light. He was wholly, completely Jihyun.

Jumin knelt on the mattress and looked down at you with tenderness so sincere that your heart clenched. "How long I have waited for this moment," he said, his slender fingers lightly dancing along your cheek.

"It has been months, but I still can't believe our dream could be a reality." You kissed the inside of his wrist, letting your lips linger on the small of his skin where his pulse beat. "It had seemed like a foolish delusion then, but now I get to relax with you without anything weighing my mind. Sometimes I'm afraid I'm missing something crucial and hell will be unleashed upon us again before we're ready."

"You can believe it now. Both of you have fought so hard," said Jihyun. "We're safe, and no one is in danger. Especially not me," he added, and winced. "I know I have been the source of all your headaches."

"No use dwelling on something we have forgiven you for." Jumin seized Jihyun's wrist. "But I would prefer it if you don't attempt another martyrdom. No more in-fighting. No more battling against rogue ministers and cult leaders. Not if I can help it." Seeing Jihyun about to protest, he cut in. "You have used up your apologies for this month. Don't you dare try."

Jihyun obediently shut his mouth.

All of you had lost too much to go through another wave of apocalypse. RFA almost disbanded and you carried the guilt everywhere for not being able to keep them together. C&R nearly went down, crushed under the weight of false accusations, dragging Jumin with it. Jihyun would never redeem himself back in Rika's eyes, but she came out alive and was in a hospital far away. Lost affection was better than a life lost.

Every day, the three of you help each other to live. One day, then another, then another. Nightmares still came, but at least they didn't come true anymore.

You hoped they wouldn't.

The security that came with freedom was hard-won. You didn't intend to lose it again.

On that note, having security also meant you were free to throw bizarre questions out there.

"I have a riddle," you blurted.

Synchronised groans came from both of them.

"It seems we're about to be tortured," Jumin said.

"Perhaps she will have mercy on us this time," suggested Jihyun.

Putting on the most earnest expression you could muster, you turned to Jihyun. "Who would you choose if you could only save one of us?"

Jihyun's eyes grew wide and Jumin exclaimed, "Why would you do that to him?"

You shrugged. "Too simple? I'll add more details to the scene."

"You possess a hidden sadistic desire," said Jumin.

Jihyun laughed. "All right, let's hear it out."

"Jumin drives us into a lake and the car is rapidly sinking, but you only have the strength to save one of us. Who would you choose?"

Jumin sat up straight and pointed at her accusingly. "That is a mockery of my driving skill," he said. "Though I admit I'm also curious to hear Jihyun's answer."

Both of you faced Jihyun with glimmering, hopeful eyes.

"I'd rather go with you both," he finally said. "I don't want to live a life without you."

That was a sly tactic to divert the talk to a solemn reflection. You wouldn't have it. He had to give a satisfying response or you would grill him until night arrived.

"But by doing so, you would lose our single chance to live."

"Save her." Jumin—that bastard—took pity on him instead of taking your side. "That would be the right course to take if I was the cause of our fictional death. One must keep a clear head when danger is imminent. Be logical."

You glared at him and whispered to Jihyun on a decibel where it shouldn't be called a whisper, "He's calling you stupid. Just sacrifice him."

"But he's right," Jihyun said. "I tend to use my heart over my head when someone needs me."

"This is why you're easy to tease." You sighed. "So, who's your heart calling for?"

"We all know he loves you, as do I. We would work together to save you," Jumin said, and Jihyun nodded with much eagerness.

You sputtered and scrambled out of Jihyun's arm. Curse their unwavering connection from being intricately intertwined since they were young. Served you right for loving two best friends who had been more than willing to present themselves as the sacrificial lamb to save your life.

"I get no say about my life or death?"

"You already handed over your choice to Jihyun. Now we will do as we see fit." Jumin was suspiciously smug when he declared it.

You swatted his shoulder without exerting any real strength. "You always find a way to cheat the system."

"It's not cheating if you never explicitly stated the rules and presented them with numerous loopholes."

You threw your hand against your forehead in the style of a faint-hearted Victorian lady receiving the most grievous news and tossed yourself back on the bed. "I have lost interest in this game."

"Some ideas are most poisonous to their creators." Jihyun chuckled, and put your hand away.

Unlike with Jumin, you found it harder to shoot antagonistic glares at Jihyun. Unlike Jumin, it was not in his nature to prod at you and challenge you into debates for mental stimulation. Unlike Jumin, he relented without much fight so it would only make you feel worse for teasing him too much.

Bickering with Jumin was a recreational activity, but it would be akin to kicking a wounded puppy if you did it to Jihyun.

"I hate it when you two join forces. I can never win against you," you grumbled.

Laughing, Jihyun kissed you and laced his fingers with yours. You held it against your stomach, deep gratitude washing over your heart. Jumin tipped up your chin, brushing flyaway strands from your face and smiled down at you.

Their touches, their gazes, they all confessed the same thing—something that existed between the three of you like it was the fundamental truth of the universe. A baby fresh out of the womb didn't need to be taught to breathe and cry. You didn't need to ask what it was. You didn't even hesitate.

Finally, you thought. No more wondering if tomorrow would come. You were loved and were fortunate enough to live out this life with them.

There would always be more days.

-

Footnotes:

-The second half of this fic is inspired by the exchange between grieving Jihyun and MC from All That Is Lost that didn't make the cut:

"I doubt he could do it if he were told to choose to save only one of us."

"Dear Lord, Jihyun." She laughed with tears in her eyes. "Let's not put him through more suffering."

I took out the grief and repurposed it into something lighter. You're welcome.

-This is my first romcom of the year and my first romantic smut ever!! I thought depression had stolen my motivation to write happy things, but turns out, I can still claw my way back here. It had been a healing process to write this. For the first time since I started here 2 years ago, I didn't worry about whether it's good enough. I just put myself in their headspace and found my joy in writing again.

-Every time I write a bubbly romance I imagine snatching these characters away from the torment of their routes and plopping them into a utopia where nothing bad can touch them.

Header Corner:

Since this fic has both mature themes and playful conversations, I thought a mixed media style would be perfect to convey these elements. Then, I used velvet purple tones with a pop of yellow and comic speech bubbles to further strengthen the concept.

A quick process overlook!

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[katherinecrighton]

Nuts and Bolts: Some Writing Advice

(Reposting a 2013 post from the Anna Katherine co-tumblr)

A friend of mine awhile back asked the aether for some practical, straightforward writing advice, which I assumed meant nuts and bolts stuff.

This is what I ended up writing to her.

(Caveat emptor: 1. The reason advice looks contradictory is because it literally is different for everyone — shit that works for one person won’t work for someone else. Just stick it in your toolbox and move along. 2. I will say obvious shit that you already know. Because it’s possible somebody else doesn’t. 3. You may totally disagree with anything/everything I say, oh my god, that’s fine.)

1. Use the word “said.” Throw in a “she declaimed” every once in a while if you like, but don’t do it all the time. Feel free to put in no dialogue tags at all, if it’s clear who’s speaking. But “said” is free and generally invisible to the reader (and the goal is to not remind the reader that they’re reading).

2. Writing advice for short fiction and writing advice for novels are and writing advice for one genre versus another are all going to tell you slightly (or wildly) different things. So, you know, watch out for that. I suggest switching mediums entirely, and try reading up on screenplays or three-panel comics.

3. Stick your finished draft into a Kindle or some other robot reader, and have a mechanical voice read the story to you. It’s a step removed, and you’ll hear where it clunks. Make notes as it goes.

4. If you don’t have a robot reader, read it out loud to yourself. Actually out loud. Put check marks wherever you cringe. It’s where the reader will likely cringe too.

5. Start your story at the point of change. It’s more interesting. Backfill with exposition a couple of paragraphs later.

6. Sometimes, if I’m writing a one-off, I pick a motif and stick with it as a lodestone for all my descriptions. It’s a way of creating a sort of subliminal mood and atmosphere for the reader, while at the same time maintaining a nice sense of continuity.

7. The English language likes to hear things in threes. Three bears, three nights, three wishes, and what with one thing and another, three years passed. English also likes iambic pentameter and any other rhyme or rhythm scheme it can get its hands on. Readers want language to both have a pretty meaning (three brothers seek their fortune) and a pretty sound (now is the winter of our discontent). The fastest way to do this, and not have it be totally obvious, is to combine the two. Have three lines of description, three examples of something, three jokes — and do it semi-regularly. It creates a rhythm in your work, like a heartbeat. Study other people’s stories and see if you can find where they’re doing the same or similar things. Count stuff.

8. Then, later, fuck with your readers by breaking the rhythm. Stop the heartbeat. Miss the step. The reader will get nervous and uncomfortable and have no idea why. Makes for good tension.

9. Other things that make readers uncomfortable: Set dressing. We’re used to visual mediums. If you want to set up a really uncomfortable scene, describe key things around it going in, and make it clear that it’s Not Okay. A pair of scissors that have been left half open. A door that is not entirely shut. A radio caught between two stations, the garden hose still left running. Nothing overt, nothing obvious – just stuff that feels uncomfortable to read. Do enough of those in a row, as you head toward a confrontation, and the reader will be a ball of avidly reading tension by the end of it. 

10. Graphic sex scenes are equal to action scenes. In both instances, know where everybody is, and what everybody’s doing. Describe with more physical action than you think is necessary. If the reader doesn’t know where everybody’s limbs are and what tools are being used, then they’ll get confused and bored. You can always edit later.

[theplottdump]

Any tips for making a legacy, for lack of a better term, weirder? I've worked pretty much every occult possible into the family tree but I feel like I get too focused on just maintaining needs and normal daily family life for them, especially since I prefer to keep everyone more or less happy (i.e. no tragic early deaths). The most exciting things I've really done are turn one sim into a Global Superstar and marry off another one to the Grim Reaper, and sometimes I pause aging for a bit to spend more time on certain plots. Your legacy is obviously pretty wild so I wondered how you go about coming up with ideas like Michael Bublé Christmas Getaways and Charlie's Angels Spy Squads haha

This is a great question!! Let me see if I can dig up a good enough answer for it 😂

And I'll include pictures to break up the massive wall of text.

The reason Gens 1-3 are barely mentioned on here is because in reality there wasn't really anything interesting that happened in them. I wanted to hide away from the stress of a worldwide pandemic and watch my sims garden for a while. No real rules, just something to relax.

Gen 4 was a slight departure since I was getting a little tired of my sims doing the same thing over and over, and I decided to do the opposite and move them to a penthouse in the city as a refreshing change.

And as I started playing with more gameplay mods that added extra moodlets- the chance of hysterical death rose exponentially. My Gen 4 heir died when my Gen 5 heir, Hinoki was just a kid. So I decided to keep him around as a ghost while my Gen 3 heir worked on grinding out the ingredients for Ambrosia and Reed (Gen 4) continued to follow his political aspirations to become the first Ghost President of Simerica.

And this is where we find the nexus point of weird. And here's the biggest (not so secret) secret to it. The beginning of Gen 5 is when I started actually sharing my gameplay.

Not publicly, but with a small group of friends and simmers on a discord, like I've mentioned before here. Suddenly I wasn't just playing for myself, I was very slowly starting to play to make my friends laugh- to see how they reacted whenever I would leave little updates. And I found I really enjoyed that!

I started contriving little scenarios- what if Hinoki slept with her husband's band mate and had a secret child. And then someone would pop in and say she might have to run away for a while to Tartosa to have a baby. This independent toddler trait gives baby Val such a stink face- oh you should put him in a tiny leopard print robe to match. And it became this back and forth of - you know what would be funny?

I was started going off the rule from my friend @anotherplumbob that my first born would be the heir, so i had the fun task of figuring out how to get from point A to point B with Valerian, and what the hell point B even looked like.

We knew he was evil- he killed his dad as a toddler, and was just a full creep through his entire childhood- and so I started asking, what story do I want to tell my friends? I love romcoms, I love spy movies- what would be fun for me?

We're all influenced by our environments, the art, media, and music we consume, and that's all directly reflected into what we decide to put back out into the world.

And through exploring those characters, through playing the game, through my friends throwing the weirdest suggestions at me - what if he made a robot copy of his childhood Nanny? Okay, what mods can I use to reflect that in my gameplay? - What if he 3D printed a baby? - What if the Volcano gave them another baby? (this one is never happening shooby) - The whole thing spiraled out of control 😂

SO TDLR- How can you make your legacy weirder?

Find a community or even a couple trusted friends to bounce ideas off of. The amount of time I've spent conniving and scheming with @doctorsimcraft should honestly be studied. Write for yourself and like the 4 people you care most about. Enthusiasm is infectious. Find some good gameplay mods to add color to your gameplay- More Personality Please is an absolute game changer. Wicked Whims and Lumpinou's RPO are also fantastic additions if that's your style. Hopefully the game throws you some fun curveballs. Adversity and conflict breed interesting story - or something like that. Think about the types of stories that you would be excited to tell- really lean into your favorite tropes and themes. It's not a checklist, it's just like - I really love campy spies, I really love enemies to lovers - what do I do in game to make this happen. Find your story and let drive your gameplay- not the other way around. Or find a good balance and see what happens.

And to be honest I've very much lost that balance and fallen into a total rut of letting the story overtake the gameplay. So whenever I get too overwhelmed by my stupid large ambitions I just sit down and play and see where the game takes me.

I hope I can get back to not posing every single scene out for Gen 7 but I also love making poses, and breaking my game in every way to be able to tell the stories I want to!

It's why I'm so comically slow now. But I guess that just means we get to spend more time getting to know our characters, which I do genuinely enjoy.

I don't know if that was helpful or incredibly unhelpful- but it's what I got. Good luck! And above all have fun- in whatever shape that may take. (Hopefully it's a weird one)

xo, Anne

[sommerflue-22]

Haunted House | Obanai Iguro x f!Reader

Featuring: Obanai Iguro, Shinobu Kocho, Suma, Tengen Uzui

Content Warning: f!reader, modern setting, university au, cursing

Word Count: 2.7k

A/n: For reference, here's how I picture Obanai in this fic

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It was hard to put on a brave face in front of your friends while standing just in front of the Haunted House. You could hardly open your eyes while watching some mediocre horror films that weren't even terrifying. What chance do you have of surviving a Haunted House?

"Come on, (Y/N). You said that you would do it." Shinobu nudged, pushing you to go inside. "We even paid for your ticket!"

"You didn't say it's a haunted house!" You protested.

"Don't worry, (Y/N). You can just run through the whole thing, keep your eyes on the ground and follow the trail." Suma encouraged. "Plus, I heard Tengen managed to persuade that one senior you like to participate."

Your eyes widened and shushed Suma, not wanting anyone else to know that you're there for a certain someone.

It all started when your two best friends had had enough of your endless sighing when you saw Obanai Iguro, your awkward, 'allergic to women' senior. Even after graduating a year ago, he continued to study for his Master's degree at the same university. Shinobu and Suma realized it wasn't easy for you to talk to Obanai because of his difficult demeanor and the lack of opportunities for you to approach him. Though, they really wanted you to give it a chance and make a move. Hence their suggestion for you to approach him in the university festival. If it turns out that Obanai breaks your heart, they will be right there to support you. If things went well, you owe them dinner at your favorite all-you-can-eat sukiyaki joint.

You couldn't remember what made you agree to their idea, but you ended up following them to the university festival. You prepared yourself to say a few words to Obanai, perhaps in the pop-up restaurant made by the Culinary Art students. But no, you'll (hopefully) come across Obanai in the Drama Club's Haunted House.

"It's just a fake Haunted House." Shinobu rolled her eyes. "Come on, hurry up."

"Is he even in there?" You asked, giving your best puppy eyes to your friends, hoping that they'll forget this idea and you all could go get some ice cream.

"I told you, Tengen said he's in there! Your soon-to-be-boyfriend is in there!" Suma groaned, "Just go! If it turns out you can't find Iguro, or if he breaks your heart, Shinobu will pay for our sukiyaki fiesta."

"What the hell?"

"Shush, Shi-chan. (Y/N) needs some motivation to go in." Suma quickly grabbed your shoulder and pushed you into the haunted house, "Off you go!"

"HEY, WAIT I'M NOT READY—"

It was too late. The person in charge of directing visitors inside has already shut the door. You were surrounded by darkness, with only a faint red LED light on the floor to guide you. You kept your gaze fixed on the ground until your eyes adjusted to the darkness. After a minute, you could recognize your surroundings. A worn-out white cloth hung from the ceiling, as well as properties such as a rocking chair (that moves on its own), a baby carriage, and other items. You weren't sure about the haunted house's concept. It didn't matter because you were only trying to make it to the exit.

You followed the red LED lights, your hands covering your ears and your gaze fixed on the floor. You took a few steps forward and were startled to see a hideous mask on the floor next to your foot.

"Fuck my life," you bit your fist to suppress your scream. You're not going to scream over some ugly mask.

"Breathe, breathe, breathe…" you tried to calm yourself down for a little bit before resuming your journey.

After being shocked by what seemed to be a robot, dressed as a clown, you finally decided to distract yourself by singing.

"I know you guys are hiding somewhere but please don't judge my singing voice!" You yelled, took a deep breath, and started singing at the top of your lungs. "Is this the real life... is this just fantasy... Caught in a landslide, no escape—AH FUCK DON'T COME AT ME!"

The clown, that you thought was a robot, was in fact a man… and he left his place to come after you.

"NO NO NO, GET AWAY!" You backed away from the clown, who had a very scary makeup on. Too scared to actually process what you're doing, you took off one of your shoes and throw it at the clown, making him yelp in pain.

"No escape from reality—OI, NO I TOLD YOU TO GET AWAY!" You took another step back as the clown took two step forwards.

Whoever the clown was, he surely was having a great time because the next thing you knew, he walked faster towards you in such an odd and cryptic way.

You screamed and ran for your dear life, pushing your way through the properties and knocking things over. You could feel and see other people, posing as ghosts, attempting to grab your hand or shoulder. Yet you were terrified, shoving them away as you ran around the auditorium, shouting.

You came to a halt when you were faced with a dead end.

"No, no it can't be!" You touched the wall in front of you, "No! I can't go back! Please let me out!"

You froze as you heard footsteps behind you, coming closer slowly. You pressed your hands harder to your ear and crouched, closing your eyes shut.

"Please, no more, please. Please don't do anything to me…"

"Oi, woman." Whoever that person was kneeled next to you, "Oi."

You opened one of your eyes slightly and saw a silhouette of a man with his hair tied back. He wasn't dressed up in a scary costume; he was wearing a white button-up shirt and dark-colored slacks. You decided it was safe to put your trust in this guy, so you opened another eye and glanced up…

…only to be met with a pair of heterochromatic eyes.

At any other time, you would probably start to blush and stutter. However you're too far gone, so afraid of your surrounding. So you did the only thing you could think of: reach out for his arms.

"I'm sorry." You whisper-yelled. "I'm so sorry, I need help standing. Please help me. I'm scared. Please—"

"Stop saying sorry, I'm here to help you." He hissed and pulled you up. "You didn't trip, did you?"

"No. I'm sorry, senpai—"

"Shush." Obanai grabbed your elbow and leading you back to the right path. "How could a coward like you enter this goddamn room alone?"

"My friends kinda dared me… t-to do it…"

He tutted, annoyed. "And you actually do it?"

You nodded. With Obanai's grip on your elbow, your fear dissipated and changed into nervousness. Suma was right, he was in the Haunted House. It looked like he was one of the 'security' that helped people out.

"I-Iguro… san?" You called out.

"Hmm?"

You actually didn't know what to say, you only wanted to say his name. But you couldn't possibly leave him hanging, it would be awkward.

"T-thank you... for saving me..."

Obanai stole a glance at you, how you were shaking and fear, afraid of your surrounding. His eyes then shifted to his hand, which was still holding your elbow as you two walk through the path.

"It's my job." Obanai let his grip fell, ignoring your small whimper of fear. "You're the only person I have to save today, so far."

"Oh... I'm sorry..."

"Hmm..."

You walked silently behind Obanai, wanting to grip his shirt but not wanting him to despise you. He might have already despised you back then. As far as you know, he never wanted to deal with any girls. He certainly didn't want to have to rescue you from the haunted house.

"You called me senpai."

"Huh?"

"Back then, you called me senpai didn't you?" Obanai asked.

"Oh, yeah... I'm majoring in Chemistry." You answered timidly, not knowing where this conversation was going.

"Hmm..."

Your gaze was drawn to the large red exit sign at the end of the path, and you let go of the breath you'd been holding. Finally, this torment was coming to an end. You couldn't wait to meet Shinobu and Suma outside, even if it meant having to part with Obanai. Overall, it was a horrible idea; Obanai would never consider you as a suitable partner. Maybe he just doesn't like girls? Maybe he's into one of his friends, like Shinazugawa or that gloomy Tomioka? Whoever it was, you knew your chances of being with Obanai were nonexistent.

A few steps away from the exit, you opened your mouth to say thank you once again...

...but instead, you let out a loud scream as someone got a grip on your ankle.

"What the fuck—"

It all happened so quickly. You slipped and crashed on Obanai's back, startling him and causing him to grab your shoulder and shove you away.

You opened your eyes and the next thing you know, you saw familiar figures hovering above you.

"Hey, thanks to your screaming, people are queueing for our Haunted House!" A bulky man with white hair grinned from ear to ear.

"Tengen-san!" Suma pushed him away and turned to you. "(Y/N)-chan! Are you alright? Is your head okay?"

"Suma..." You whimpered and propped yourself up but something's weighing down your torso.

"Iguro, that's enough. Let the poor girl up." Tengen boomed.

You looked down and noticed Obanai had fallen on top of you. His head was on top of your stomach, tilted to one side, but you realized how red his face was.

"Senpai?" You called out.

He snapped out of his own thoughts and quickly stood up, dusting off his pants as he did so. Obanai stared down at you before quietly walking away.

"You're not even going to help her up?" Shinobu sneered.

Obanai stopped right on his track.

"What's with your 'allergic to girls' bullshit, huh?"

"Shinobu, it's alright, I'm fine." You got on your feet, helped by Suma, and held on Shinobu's arm. "Come on let's go, okay?"

"No, (Y/N), I'm gonna rip off that goddamn mask from his face!"

"Shi-chan, let's just drop this okay? (Y/N) probably needs food, she's still shaking." Suma added, totally worried. Shinobu might seemed calm on the outside, but both you and Suma knew she was in rage.

Shinobu stayed where she stood, but her eyes bore into Obanai's. She lifted a finger and pointed at him. "I will not let you get close to (Y/N) ever again."

Without waiting for Obanai's response, Shinobu tugged yours and Suma's elbows, dragging you away from the Haunted House. You looked over your shoulder and grimaced when you noticed Obanai just froze. His eyes were on the ground, hands balled up in a fist.

༻❁༺

It's been a month since the Haunted House incident. Shinobu apologized for what she had said, but she stood by it. Despite Obanai's 'female allergy,' he should have helped you up. You admitted she had a valid argument.

"It's fine," you said. "Makes it easier for me to forget him."

That's not true at all. Even after a month, you still caught yourself staring at him whenever you saw him from afar. In the library, in the cafeteria, across the campus' quad, even in a crowded diner near your campus. Obanai was everywhere. Most of the time you stole a glance towards him when Shinobu wasn't looking. It was hard not to, you've been crushing on your senior for more than a year now.

You sat in your classes, randomly thinking if Obanai found the topic you're currently learning as difficult. You examined your professor and wondered if Obanai hated him. It's even harder for you to forget him since you're majoring the same thing as him.

You stared at the paper in your hand, then at the door in front of you. Your professor had crossed one of your answer, even when you got the right answer. You've checked with your classmates. Thinking it was a mistake, you decided to ask the professor about it.

You knocked on his door and waited. No answer. You knocked again. Still no answer. Just when you're about to knock for the third time, the door opened.

"Hi, Professor, I was wondering if I could talk to... you?"

A pair of heterochromatic eyes stared down at you, mouth covered with a mask.

"Huh." Obanai opened the door a bit wider. "He's not here at the moment."

"I see... Well, then... I'll come back tomorrow." You nodded your head and turned on your heels.

"Wait."

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Is that your quiz from last week?" Obanai asked, to which you nodded. "Come in."

You followed him in and closed the door. Your professor's office was quite spacious and organized. Tons of books in his bookcase, files and papers on his desk, and Obanai who, for whatever reason, was in there, leaning against the professor's desk. He held out his hand, motioning for you to give him your paper. You gave it to him, standing a few steps away from Obanai.

"Are you the Teaching Assistant?" You asked.

"Yes. I graded yours and your classmates' answers."

"Okay."

The room grew silent, and you took advantage of the opportunity to take a look at him up close. Obanai was just a couple of inches taller than you. He's dressed in his typical black and white striped shirt and has his hair done back in a ponytail. You remembered how he used to let it fall on his shoulder. You loved seeing his hair like that. To be able to see him there in front of your eyes, bathed in sunlight from the window…

Obanai has never appeared more ethereal.

"I made a mistake, didn't I?" He asked, out of the blue. You were caught off guard.

"Uh... yeah, it's that... that one, number eight. I got the right answer, yet you still crossed it."

Obanai took a pen from his pocket and scribbled on your paper. You waited for him to finish. He probably caught you staring, but you didn't really care. Just because you didn't have any chance to be with him, didn't mean you're not allowed to appreciate his beauty, right?

Obanai folded your paper in half and handed it back to you. "I apologize."

You grabbed the paper and waved your hand. "No, it's fine. It's a small mistake."

"I mean for the other day."

"Huh?"

"Back in the Haunted House."

"Ah..." You could feel your cheeks turned crimson. "It doesn't matter, senpai. I'm sorry for the inconvenience and for what my friend said."

Obanai didn't say anything, he just stared at you and nodded slowly.

"Well, then," you cleared your throat, "I better get going."

"Yeah."

He walked you back to the door, something that he didn't really need to do since it was only a few steps away. Obanai opened the door for you and leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms.

"Thanks again, senpai." You cracked a small smile.

Obanai nodded. "Check again if I crossed any of your right answers."

"Oh, I believe that was the only answer you crossed." You unfolded the paper. "I checked all of them and..."

"Mhmm?"

You were at loss of words. There were a scribble at the end of your paper, something that wasn't there before.

i'm sorry fancy some dinner to make up for it? Text me: 003-XXXX-XXXX

"S-senpai?"

"Don't... call me that." Obanai looked away, a tint of pink was visible on his pale cheek.

"...Obanai-san?"

He sighed. "You're not supposed to read it here."

"I'm sorry." You chuckled, not really prepared to witness your senior being flustered because of you.

"So?" Obanai asked. "Your answer?"

"S-sure." You gave him a thumbs up. It was an awkward move but you just got asked out by your crush for a dinner.

"Text me your address. I'll pick you up at seven." Obanai stepped back and closed the door, a little bit too hard.

You froze in your place, clutching your quiz paper on your chest. Your mind went fuzzy, couldn't comprehend what happened just yet.

"Dinner... at seven... okay..."

You walked away, looking at the scribble Obanai left on your paper. A little squeal slipped past through your lips as you walked faster, eager to reach your dorm and get ready for dinner.

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Thank you for reading! Find me on Ao3 and Twitter

[nowoyas]

thinking started feeling like burning - nishinoya yuu/reader

m.list - deleted smut scene - read on ao3

A/N: would you believe I wrote the majority of this BEFORE having a complete mental break and quitting my job without any sort of plan? this one is gonna have a smut spinoff oneshot sometime before the end of the month but no clear ETA yet due to school and job hunting. this boy needs more love and goddammit I may not be confident in my noya but I'M GONNA GIVE IT TO HIM

Summary: Nothing had changed since you left. Not him, a brilliant hurricane, and not you, a lost robot moving forward with no goals or dreams of your own. Opposites attract, after all.

Warnings: past minor character death, suggestive themes. reader is gender-neutral but for purposes of the deleted smut scene coming later is afab. reader basically has an anxiety disorder and it's implied they have not great parentage but no major detail is gone into.

Word count: ~8600

desolate

/dĕs′ə-lĭt, dĕz′-/

adjective

1. Devoid of inhabitants; deserted

2. Barren; lifeless

Yeah, maybe that was it. Desolate. In this hotel room—small, furnished but empty—you set aside your phone and its little dictionary definition of what’s wrong with you and the definition imprints itself on your brain all over again. Hardly the first time you’ve known the meaning of the word, but perhaps the first you’ve recognized it in your face.

In high school, you’d occupied your time with almost nothing but studying. There had been friends, one or two, and a blip towards the end in the form of a boyfriend, but you had potential and didn’t need to focus on things like going out to karaoke or making out with a guy when you had exams to study for.

You had so much potential.

You recall, dimly, having memorized the definition for desolate one day among all your vocabulary. More than that, reciting it for a hopeless light in your life who just didn’t get all this school stuff.

Your nose wrinkles at the memory. Best not get caught up in that spiral, yeah?

Against your better judgment, you flop onto the hotel room bed face-first and sigh. What the fuck are you even doing here? None of this was necessary. None of this was planned for.

There’s, of course, the simple textbook facts of the situation: you attended a work event, and halfway through, went to the bathroom and just stared at yourself in the mirror—much like the way you spent the past half an hour in a hotel bathroom—went home, got in your car, and drove to a hotel precariously close to your hometown. Sure, there’d been some kind of internal monologue going on, but you don’t remember any of it anymore. Nothing beyond what you’ve known for the past six years:

Something is fundamentally wrong with you.

“So, what, we get in our car and drive away and don’t show up to work and hope it all works out?”

The desolate room does not answer the desolate you.

~

Some species of sea turtle have been observed returning to the beach where they were born in order to nest, a phenomenon known as “natal homing”. There are many theories as to how they are able to return to their birthplace…

Like the sea turtle, you swim through endless water and find yourself, of all places, back in Miyagi, staring at a house you only vaguely remember and wondering if your instincts really led you here, or if you’re staring at a random stranger’s house you’ve never been to. Maybe there’s more than one family with his last name in the area.

It looks like all the others—a house in the countryside, standard and homely. You were here… what? Three times? Five?

Not even in the double digits—you know that much. You and Noya had spent more time together at school, or at your house. Your parents hadn’t wanted you to spend too much time alone with a guy at his house. In hindsight, you kind of get it. His grandfather hadn’t exactly been the type to make sure you two were being good kids, or whatever.

Still, you run your fingers over the nameplate, the kanji of Nishinoya’s last name, and try to figure out why this, of all places, is where you’ve drifted to.

“[name]?”

You startle, looking to the voice. Familiar, yet matured. Perhaps a bit lower. Perhaps carrying an emotion you don’t recognize. That, you know, must be him.

You note with a barely-stifled laugh that Noya has not changed his hair in the years since you’ve seen him. Still that stupid, adorable tuft of dyed blond hanging down in his face. Good.

Then, the feeling passes, and the panic sets in.

What the fuck are you doing at your ex-boyfriend’s house?

“Noya,” you breathe. You nod to him, stunned.

“Holy shit, that’s actually you!” He’s closed the distance in an instant, swept you off your feet in a hug that has you crying out in surprise. When he sets you down, you stumble, trying to catch your brain before it falls out your head. He studies you with bright, sharp eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Ah. “Uh, yeah. About that? I… I have no idea.”

He blinks slowly, and then he’s laughing. “That’s not like you at all! Come on, if you’ve got the time to sit down, I’m sure we’ve got something around here to feed you with.”

“Feed me…? Wait, I…”

But he’s already grabbed your wrist, pulled you across the forbidden threshold and right to the front door. Maybe you should have thought about literally anything before showing up at his house.

Too late for regrets, you guess. You’re in way too deep for him to let you slip away now.

~

In your mind, Nishinoya is steepling his hands together like a stern employer trying to figure out the best way to admonish a bad employee. The image doesn’t really suit him, and you do know that, but you still feel like cubicle fodder waiting to get chewed out.

In reality, he’s resting his chin in his hand, watching you carefully as you run your thumb over the glass of water he’s given you and try not to meet his eyes. (It had taken quite a bit of debating to keep him from actually feeding you. The water was a concession in a valiant fight.)

“So, you don’t know what you’re doing?”

A slow nod.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.” The statement, repeated, does little to hide how astounded he is at the concept.

You sigh. It is easy and so, so heavy as the air escapes you. Maybe you can drown your errant thoughts in water until you understand just what, exactly, you’re trying to do here. You try, but no matter how much you drink, you still don’t have an answer. “Pretty much, yeah. I just sort of ended up here.”

He has an easy smile on his lips, sharp eyes taking you in. “After what?”

“What do you mean, after what?”

“I mean, it’s not like you to just run off and end up anywhere. You’re, you know, thoughtful and stuff! I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of you just doing something without at least three plans ready to go in case something went wrong.”

“I mean, there was you,” you admit with a laugh.

Shit. That was the wrong thing to say, but here you are, panicking and thinking you’ll make things even more awkward than you already feel, and there he is, smiling like he’s looking at…

What?

It isn’t until he’s leaning in further like he’s about to say something dirty that you realize your real mistake in that response.

“You didn’t think before you did me, huh?”

Your cheeks flare, and you hurriedly down the rest of the glass of water while you try to think of a suitable redirect. “You know what I meant!”

“Sure do! You meant—“

“Oh, hush.”

He laughs, and you fall into silence, trying to commit the sound of his laugh to memory.

That’s what sucks about this, oddly enough: you sit at his dining room table, holding a now-empty cup, and it’s just as easy as it always was. He tells you what he’s been up to: how he doesn’t play volleyball anymore (tragic—you loved watching him play) and he’s been traveling a lot (infuriating—you love to travel) and he’s dated once or twice since you last spoke, but nothing really lasting.

(heartbreaking.)

(you love—)

(you loved him when you left.)

“So,” he says, ever enthusiastic to redirect the conversation onto you, “what have you been up to?”

“Nothing, I guess.”

“Oh, come on. You’ve always been amazing. I bet you’ve been doing something awesome with that brain of yours. You wanted to write, right? How’s that going?”

Hah. Amazing. He’s only saying that because you were useful when you tutored him. “No, really. Nothing. Sales, I guess. Convincing people to give up money for a product I don’t believe in for a company I hate. I guess I’m up for a promotion soon. Really though, I think I’ve probably just been dead for the last… what, six years?”

You’d picked the number because it was when you graduated high school. That had made sense to you—college, too, had felt like nothing. No parties, no partners, just studying, exams, and keeping your body moving forward until you had a neat little degree in a field you didn’t care about. But when you spare a glance away from the window, where your attention has been glued in hopes of avoiding letting the awkwardness and pain of this whole situation actually hit you, it’s the first time since he ran into you that Noya isn’t smiling at you.

Oh yeah. And right before you graduated, you’d broken up with him.

“You broke up with me, you know,” he says after a long moment. “Are you saying you’ve been a ghost this whole time?”

And ouch. He’s right, and you hate that. It hadn’t been his fault you’d left. It’d been your insecurities, your inability to handle the weight of your parents’ disapproval, your unwillingness to fight for something that seemed so correct, your stunning realization that Noya would always shine too brightly for you to be the one standing beside him. He always thought you were amazing, but you were nothing compared to his whirlwind personality, his passion, his sense of life.

Maybe this would have been easier if you’d ever told him that.

“I don’t know what I’m saying. Probably just that high school was the last time I felt like a real person, and that ever since, I’ve just been going through the motions and slowly losing my mind and trying not to panic about the fact that not only do I not have any direction in life, I don’t even know how to enjoy it if I did.” Your words come out calm and metered. You try not to betray the worst of it.

For a moment, talking to him, you’d been able to forget the person you’ve been since graduation. You were always moving forward a step at a time, but at some point, you stopped being a hiker on your predetermined life path and just let yourself be a robot. Mechanical step after mechanical step. Just keep moving forward and you’ll get to where you’re going. When you get to where you’re going, you’ll take another stupid, empty step towards where you’re going now. Some successful career, some boring partner that your parents like, kids, wake up, go to sleep, another day, another day, another day doing exactly what you’re expected to do. Just keep following that bright, clear line. That bright, clear line to nowhere at all.

And then you stumbled. And now you’re here, again. Dizzy, sitting at the same table with the same guy.

At some point, you’d trailed off, staring at the table and searching for scars of a life well-used on its surface. You hear the shuffle of him standing over you, and look up to find him reaching out a hand to you. “Alright. Come on.”

“Come… on?”

He leans forward a bit more to take your hand and pull you up. “I’m taking you out to dinner.”

“Huh? Wait, but where?”

“Don’t know yet!”

He drags you out, and you stumble after him in mind and body.

“It’s one o’clock!”

“So we’ll scout places that look good while we get lunch. You don’t have anything to do, right?”

“Well, no, but—“

“Then we’re going!”

He pulls you right past the entryway, nearly has you out the front door before you can protest. “I’m not wearing shoes, Noya! You’re not wearing shoes!”

He only laughs, only pauses, only gives you a moment. “Get them on, then.”

“And do you even have your wallet?”

He blinks and pats his pockets. “Guess not! You’ve got until I’m back with my wallet to get your shoes on and decide to let this happen!”

Decide… to let this happen?

He disappears around the corner, deeper into the house, and at last you sigh, sitting to put your shoes on properly. You doubt he’ll be quick finding his wallet—if he’s anything like you remember (and so far, he’s exactly like you remember) then he has absolutely no idea where he put it last. If you didn’t think he’d absolutely drag you out the door once it was found, you’d kick your shoes back off and help him look.

After getting your shoes on, setting his out in ideal kicking-feet-into-without-stopping position, and five minutes of listening to him rustle about the house, you glance at a table in the entryway and smile at the sight of a plain black wallet in the dish. You inspect it, just in case it’s not his—there’s been no sign of Noya’s grandfather around, but almost nothing’s changed, so he probably still lives here. Better to check.

You open it, just to see that it’s got his ID in there and not someone else’s, and nearly slam it closed again immediately.

Yeah, it’s his missing wallet. ID and everything. And, in the little photo slot, a six-year-old photo of him in his volleyball jersey, million-volt smile on his face as you push him away with your own brilliant smile. He’d just won a game, and you’d been busy trying to get him, gross and sweaty, to stop getting all that gross and sweaty on you even as you laughed the entire time. Tanaka took the picture, you think—there’s a bit of thumb in the bottom right corner.

Noya keeps a photo of the two of you in his wallet. After six years without talking.

A noise bangs from somewhere else in the house, and you close the wallet and force down the warmth welling in your chest and rushing to your face. “All good?” you call out.

“I can’t find my stupid wallet!” he shouts back a moment later. He sounds a bit frustrated. “This isn’t going to work if I spend the whole day trying to—“

“Nishinoya,” you cut him off, half sing-song, “you left it by the door.”

No reply except the thudding of feet as he runs right up to you and plucks it from your hand. “There it is! I found it!”

“Oh, really? You found it?”

“Yep! Are your shoes on? We gotta go now!”

“Go where? You’re in an awful rush. Do you have plans or something?”

He kicks his shoes on and grabs your wrist again. “Nope! You’re gonna love it!”

~

Really a type of plankton, jellyfish possess extremely limited swimming abilities, if any at all, and rely on the currents to control their horizontal movements through the sea.

It occurs to you, as you make the trek to the bus stop, that you didn’t have to say yes to this. Well, really, it’s not like you said yes so much as didn’t say otherwise, and Noya, ever the trail-blazer, pulled you along for the ride. What’s even the difference in what you’re doing now and what you’ve been doing these past six years?

You barely make the bus. Nishinoya pays the fare for both of you, before you can protest, and when there’s only one open seat, he takes it.

“You’re such a gentleman,” you snort.

He responds by tugging you down into his lap. “I am!”

You’re stronger than you were in high school. Really, you are. You don’t collapse into emotions like embarrassment. You don’t let the sensation of being flustered consume you. You do not.

…you bury your face in your hands. “What are we doing right now?”

Always laughing. Always lighthearted. “What do you mean? We’re taking the bus someplace we can find some restaurants.”

“You know exactly what I mean!”

The bus passes over a bump, and he wraps an arm around your waist to steady you. “You know, you’ve barely changed at all.”

“Neither have you,” you fire back. You meant it as an accusation, but the words come out tender. “You’re still a complete hurricane.”

He laughs, his own tenderness bleeding through. “And you’re still not letting yourself have anything you want.”

“When have I ever—“

“I think you know.” His other arm comes around your waist, holding you in a loose hug, chin resting against your arm.

You try not to stiffen at all the contact. This, too, is something you haven’t felt in ages—simple, casual touch. He had always been that way, resting a hand on your shoulder, your back, running fingers through the ends of your hair, like if he stopped touching you, you’d run away.

Maybe he was right. Maybe he is right.

“You didn’t answer me before. Are you still writing? I’ve been keeping an eye out for your name on the shelves, you know.”

You rest a hand on his arm, half considering pushing his arm off. The bus stops, but apparently not at a stop Noya is interested in dragging you off at—he steadies you as the bus jolts, and as a few passengers file off, you consider admitting the answer.

“Poetry these days, mostly. It’s not like I’d ever get published if I went for it, so I just scribble out a few half-assed lines and—“

“See, stop that. That’s half your problem right there, you know!”

“Another seat just opened up, you know,” you mumble. If you try to fight him on this, he’ll end up talking you into these grand ideas that you’ll never be able to accomplish, and by the end of the day he’ll probably have you in love with him all over again, even though you know it would never work, even though you know you’d never really be anything—as an employee, as a person, as his. “We don’t have to do this… couple-y thing.”

“I want to, though. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

…it is. It really is.

“…I still like to write, but I never have time anymore. It’s work, recovering from work, getting ready for work, waiting to come home from work so I can prep lunches and wash my clothes so I have something to eat and wear at work. I don’t have energy for anything except meetings, emails, and phone calls where no one means anything they say.”

“Damn. No wonder you seem so lost. Why don’t you quit?”

“And do what? It’s not like I have a dream job. I just want to get by and survive—“

“Why? You’re not happy. Don’t you want to do something more than survive?”

“I don’t even know what that would look like, Noya.”

He says everything so simply. Just quit. Just move on. Just move forward. He’s lucky, you think. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have parents planning out your entire life for you.

…okay, that was mean. Add that to the list of things that are wrong with you.

He sighs, shaking you gently in his hold. “It’s worse than I thought. Hey, [name], why’d you come here?”

“I told you already. I have no idea.”

“Alright. Adding it to the list. Today, you’re experiencing adventure for the first time in six years, and you’re gonna figure out what you were doing standing outside my house at noon on a Saturday. If I have my way, you’re also going to be quitting your job and starting a promising career as the greatest writer Japan’s ever seen, renowned the world over, but we can get to that some other time if you want!”

“Noya, I’m not—“ Your words die in your throat as his fingers slide between yours. You hadn’t realized your hand was sliding up his arm, but here he is, holding hands with you like it’s nothing.

God. How old are you, again?

~

Lunch ends up being crepes. Never mind the fact that crepes are not a meal, not even when Noya suggests buying two each—he proudly declares it lunch, and so lunch it must be. You’re lucky that he graciously allowed you to get a table, though he’d insisted on grabbing one outside even as the sky above has started to loom with rainclouds.

“And what’ll we do if it rains?” you retort drily as he sits across from you.

“We’ll figure it out,” he grins, sliding you a menu. “Dry off after we get rained on, not before.”

You snort. “How about we just try not to get rained on?”

“Then we would be sitting inside, and you wouldn’t get to look up at the clouds while we eat! You always liked the way the sky looked before it rained, right?”

A soft huff leaves you, a small smile unbidden. “You actually remember that? I think I said that to you, like, one time.”

He nods. “Only had to say it once! Besides, I caught you staring up at the sky in the rain more than once.”

“And yet, I had to repeat the same information for you so many times, only for you to still get it wrong on test day…”

“Hey! I was distracted!”

“You weren’t supposed to be,” you tease.

“What was I supposed to do? There was this gorgeous person sitting across from me telling me all these complicated things in a nice voice. I’m a simple man!”

Though your cheeks heat at the declaration, you can’t help but laugh. “Clearly.”

“Yeah. Clearly.” For just a moment, he’s soft, unbearably soft, and you fear looking at him. Quick, change the subject before you have to acknowledge whatever’s going on here!

“S-so!” Smooth! You’re doing great, sweetie! “Any idea what you’re going to get?”

He slaps a finger down on the menu without looking. “A… monte… monte…”

You sigh and peer over to look at the fanciful English he’s pointing to. “A Monte Cristo crepe?”

“Yeah!”

“Did you read the part where it’s got onions as a main ingredient? Don’t you hate onions?”

He wrinkles his nose, but stands firm. “I’m sure!”

You huff softly. “Alright. Far be it from me to stop you.”

“What about you? Make a pros and cons list for each menu item yet?” he teases.

“For your information, I don’t have to do that when ordering in restaurants. That’s for big decisions. But…” You sigh. “I haven’t eaten out in a while. It stresses me out.”

“Why?”

“So let’s say I pick something that looks good, and it sucks. I won’t eat it because it sucks, but then I feel like I’ve insulted the chef and wasted my time and money.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “If you don’t like it, you don’t like it. But at least you’ll know! When’s the last time you actually ate out like this?”

You bite your lip thoughtfully. When was it?

“I… think I did a celebration dinner with my parents when I graduated?”

“College?”

“No, high school. We didn’t celebrate when I graduated college.”

Once again, he’s staring at you in blank disbelief. “[name], that was six years ago.”

You flush. “Yeah, so?”

“That’s so sad. What have you been doing? I’m about to take you on a food tour just so you can catch up on all the restaurants you’ve been missing.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Please, no. I can’t eat that much.”

“Then we’ll spread it out!”

“Noya…”

The waiter drops in at exactly the wrong time. Flustered, you stumble your way into lemonade for you, apple cider for him, and then, as he’s confidently mispronouncing “Monte Cristo” to the waiter, you panic and end up ordering some curry crepe, a concept which intrigues and horrifies you.

“How’d you even find this place? Seems weird for there to be some half-French, half-English upscale crepe restaurant out in Miyagi.”

“What do you mean, how did I find it? We found it together. I’ve never eaten here.”

Right. He’s completely winging everything. “Amazing.”

“Right?”

Drinks come, and you sigh into a masterful lemonade and try to think of things to say to fill the space between you and your ex. (You have to try not to forget that bit—that this isn’t natural, that this can’t lead anywhere. For your sake and his.) “So, how’s your grandfather been?”

The easy smile on Noya’s lips drops. “Oh. He died late last year. Age caught up to him, I guess.”

Oh. Fuck. “Noya, I’m so…”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. Crazy bastard had a hell of a time of it. He’d hate for me to sit around feeling bad about it, anyway.”

He wouldn’t want you to pity him. Doesn’t want you to pity him. You know that. But…

Did Noya ever talk about any other family members when you knew him? You know he lived in that house with his grandfather. No siblings. Never mentioned any cousins. You know he didn’t grow up around his parents, either…

Has he been alone this whole time?

You reach across the table. Place a hand on his. “Maybe I’ll visit more often.”

In silence, the two of you sit and wait for your crepes.

~

The crepes come out, and with them, new points of conversation that carry you both to finishing—all the way until Noya manages to argue you into letting him pay. He pulls you along, a bit slower than before, a bit easier. You can’t help but let him take your hand and bring you wherever the wind is leading him, half-pitying him and half from the complete lack of will to fight him all day.

“I told you you weren’t gonna like what you ended up ordering.”

“You liked it though, right?”

Predictably, he’d taken one bite of the crepe and instantly realized his mistake. Far too much onions for his tastes. Your curry crepe had been… well…

Let’s just say that you weren’t especially upset when Noya asked you to swap.

“It was really good, if you like onions.”

“I know what I like! Onions aren’t it!”

It’s easy like this, and the day really is nice. There’s rain on the breeze and in the clouds, a pleasant scent and a comforting gloom over the day. You tease and joke back and forth, hand in hand like it’s natural, and it is. It’s easy, being around him. It was easy back then, too. So easy it scares you.

You’re just waiting for the bottom to fall out.

You’re waiting for the bottom to fall out, and it does—with a shriek and loud laughter, rain chases the both of you underneath a tree and within sight of the nearest bus stop, soaking you both through to the bone.

“See?” Noya says, grinning as he pulls you a little closer underneath the tree. “Now we can worry about getting dry.”

“You’re unbelievable,” said with a smile. “What is all this meant to prove again?”

“Well, why’d you come here?”

“Here? You dragged me out here.”

“Yeah, but why’d you come back to Miyagi? I’m just saying, my doorstep is not the first place I expected you to turn up on when the inevitable nervous breakdown hit.”

You fall silent, shiver in the rain. It’s peaceful. You try to focus on watching for a bus, anything except the question you were asked.

“[name].”

You glance at him, yelp a little to find how close the two of you have gotten. This close, in this kind of situation, it’d be only natural for you to lean in, for you to brush your lips against his.

God, have you even kissed anyone since you burned everything down?

You’re not doing this. You’re not falling into a hurricane like him again. You won’t be able to come back if you do that. (Especially with such a fucking cliché.)

You turn away. “You already asked me that. I told you before, I don’t know.”

He hums thoughtfully. Drapes his jacket over both of your heads in an attempt to keep you both from looking any more rained out than you already do.

“I’m just saying, if you want my opinion, you’re going to have to do a lot more adventuring and a lot less sales for a company you hate if you want to remember what ‘happy’ is supposed to feel like.”

“Not sure I ever knew what that was like to begin with.”

“Never?”

“When I was a kid, maybe.”

He tilts his head. “Not even when we dated? Is that why you broke up with me?” He sounds genuinely curious. Would it feel better, you wonder, if he sounded hurt?

You wince. “I didn’t mean… I just…” A sigh. “It’s more like, I was too afraid to let myself be happy when I was with you.” In the close proximity, you find it easier to let your head rest against him a little. “Please don’t misunderstand. I like you. I probably would have been really happy with you if there weren’t something fundamentally wrong with me as a person.” Shit. You definitely misspoke there.

“I don’t really know how to teach you to relax a little, but it’s gotta be easier now that you’re out of your parents’ house. Maybe you need to go somewhere completely new. Get a fresh outlook.”

You arch a brow his way. At least he’s not commenting on your slip of the tongue. “What are you suggesting, Nishinoya?”

“I’m leaving for Italy. Six weeks. That’s enough time for you to plan your little heart out, right?”

“Italy.”

He nods, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Italy.”

“And if I came back after six years to kill you or something?”

He barks a laugh, stark against the pouring rain. His eyes linger on you. The part of you that’s charitable to yourself thinks he might be mentally undressing the clothes sticking to your skin, though you know it’s more of a challenging look. “I’d like to see you try.”

~

One soaking wet bus ride back to Noya’s house doesn’t save you from this little adventure plan of his. Instead, you’re given a towel or two to dry off with and a change of clothes from his closet, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. The way he acts, everything is.

So now here you are, wearing a shirt far too large for you that you’ve wrestled into looking somewhat nice with Nishinoya’s jeans. It slides off your shoulder a bit no matter how many times you fix it. You admit, you do manage to pull it off, but the whirlwind of the day still has your head spinning with just how wrong this situation is.

You’re supposed to be at work right now. You should be in office clothes, sitting at a desk in a too-cold cubicle that you never got around to decorating, perfect and polished while you tap out yet another perfectly-balanced email, three-quarters professional, one-quarter gentle familiarity to lure your clients into a false sense of security. Not standing in your ex’s bathroom, tying one of his t-shirts at the waist, adjusting your hair to look closer to “decent” than “drowned rat”. This, this day, this situation, was never supposed to happen.

Is this whole day going to be a stumble? How long will it be until you catch yourself and get back to moving forward? When you do, will you still have a place at your desk?

Do you even want one?

A knock at the bathroom door. “If you give me your clothes, I’ll get them started drying,” his voice filters through the door.

All of these actions have been so easy. Your wet clothes, picked up from where they hung shower-side. Easy to wring them out a bit more to keep from making the floor worse. Easy to open the door. Easy to hand them to him.

Nothing had ever been particularly hard before him, but falling in love with him had been just like this: easy.

Maybe the first easy thing you ever remember.

~

So you go along with it. Another bus ride, this one less crowded than before. This time with umbrella in hand—just one, because of course Noya didn’t even think about it on the way out the door—and a determination to figure out what the hell you’re doing here to begin with.

Everything is as everything was, you think. Shops lining the street, one familiar sight in particular, one of two things you had never had the strength to deny yourself back in school. At the sight of the bookshop, you tug Nishinoya to a stop. You’re a little surprised when he actually does stop.

“Sorry, can we head in? I used to love this place back in school.” You nod to the bookshop. He smiles and lets you lead the way.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve done something selfish today,” he comments as you lead him in.

You refuse to meet that one with a reply.

The shop is exactly as you remember. High stacks of books, books, books everywhere. The scent of old books and a slight spice in the air, scents blending and mixing until, for just a moment, you’re in high school again, marveling at rare finds coming through the used books section and finding some new world to escape into.

You sigh into the scent and disappear into the stacks. Noya is kind enough to humor you as you pick through, find a title or two to take up to the register. If you really do come back to visit from time to time, you’ll have to make sure to stop in here when you do. The old woman at the register hasn’t aged a day. She smiles when she sees you the same way you’re smiling as you approach her.

“Is that little [name]?” she asks, though you both know she already knows the answer. “Why, I haven’t seen you around here in ages! You’ve grown so well!”

“It’s wonderful to see you again, ma’am.”

“Just as polite as you always were. Find everything you were looking for?”

She’s got a poster on the counter by the register. You steal a glance, then meet her eyes with a smile. “Sure did! I’m glad to see you guys are still here.”

Her smile turns bitter. “I’m not sure how much longer, I’m afraid.”

Ah. There’s the heartbreak, panic, fear. “What?”

“It can’t be helped. It’s getting difficult to watch this place in my age, and my Taka’s not been doing so well lately. The kids are all off worrying about their own lives now…”

Your chest twists at the thought. “Can’t you find help?”

“We’ve been looking, but…”

It cannot possibly be this easy.

There’s no way.

“But…”

Noya slides a few bills over the counter while you’re busy fighting a war in your head.

“Oh, and who’s this? You’ve got to introduce your boyfriend, dear.”

“Oh, he’s not—“

“It’s nice to meet you, Granny! I’m Nishinoya.”

Already, they’re spiraling off into some side conversation, too fast for you to make the obvious correction as the old lady makes your—Noya’s—change. She tucks a little bookmark into the front of the stack, and you slide your new books into your bag in resignation. It becomes his space as easily as it was yours, and somehow, it doesn’t feel wrong.

After you’ve left, you consider clearing the air, bringing up… whatever that was.

…it’s not worth the argument.

Another few shops, another few stops. Another few steps forward, another few hours, and yet again you’re sitting across from him, fretting over being underdressed at the restaurant you’ve both happened across and settled on.

“Are you sure we’re dressed alright?” you mutter.

“They let us in the door, didn’t they?”

…yeah, you don’t know what you expected him to say.

“Besides, you look great,” he adds. His eyes dance over you, over the bare skin on your shoulder where you’ve finally given up on pulling the neck of his shirt back up. “I think you wear that better than I ever have.”

You ignore him in favor of another menu, another decision to make that feels earth-shattering. At least you’re aware you’re being ridiculous when it comes to ordering. Really, what’s going to change if you get the fun-looking drink you might not like over the safe one? How bad would it really be if you didn’t like your meal that much?

Drinking too much. Discovering a new allergy. Food poisoning—

“You’re overthinking again,” he teases.

“I’m always overthinking,” you grumble.

“Maybe you need to take the edge off.”

He’s right, and you know that in theory. But in the practice and the day-to-day, you stare at the drinks menu and feel your chest constrict with that itch of anxiety all over again.

“You’ve just got to jump in before you can talk yourself out of it. Come on, [name], let me distract you a little.”

…you don’t think he’s trying to flirt, but your face feels hot all the same. And, well, shit, Noya is a great distraction. He’s a bit less keyed-up than he was back then, but he’s still endlessly charming, endlessly easy to get wrapped up in if you lower your guard even a moment.

“…fine. So what’s this you were saying earlier about Italy?”

His eyes light up. You rest your chin in your palm, glance over the menu again as he tells you about his dreams of traveling the world, how he wants to seek new thrills and see all these new things. You can see every potential disaster of the situation—for one, he has a house back home that someone’s going to need to care for while he’s away, and he doesn’t seem to have thought of that. For another, he’s got an inheritance and no passive income to work with. His grandfather’s leftover money may be substantial enough for this to work in the short term, but longer-term…

Well, one day, he’s going to run headfirst into a hole he can’t climb out of himself.

The thought scares you. Who’s going to be there for him when that happens?

The waiter stops by. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you pick out something alcoholic and fruity and try not to preen under Noya’s delighted approval.

“I’ve never seen you drunk before. Looking forward to it,” he grins. This time, you’re sure he means it flirtatiously, given the wicked gleam in his eyes.

You reach across the table to bat at his arm. “Keep looking, then. I don’t plan on getting drunk tonight. Just buzzed enough to put up with you.”

“Well, that’s no fun. I wanted to know what you’re like when you finally let loose.”

“Excuse you, I can be plenty fun without getting drunk off my ass.”

“Then let’s see it.”

Drinks come out, food orders are placed. You get your margarita halfway down before the buzz starts really setting in, a pleasant warmth blossoming through you. At least now when Noya makes your face hot with some offhanded comment, you can blame it on something other than your own weak heart.

“You know, this is the most adventurous thing I’ve done since I dated you,” you admit once you’re both walking back to the bus stop. Fully sober you would never have this conversation. You recognize that, but there’s enough pleasant fuzz in your head that for once you do not give nearly enough of a fuck to stop yourself. The night is warm, maybe even romantic. “This whole… running around, stopping at random restaurants, getting drenched in the rain without an umbrella. All that.”

He’s got this soft look in his eyes as he regards you. “Really? I can’t say I’m surprised. You were always worrying about everything.”

You snort. “Someone had to.”

“We were kids, though. You probably could have left at least some of that worrying to your parents.”

“Believe it or not, they gave nearly all of that worry to me. On purpose, I think.” You sigh, lean against him just a touch. Your balance never was all that great sober. “I had to be perfect. You were that one little blip.”

“Hey, it felt perfect to me.”

“Did I make a mistake, do you think?”

He looks a little wounded at that. To your credit, he’s definitely misinterpreting. “Dating me?”

“No. Leaving you.”

He pauses, an awkward motion that has you both stumbling just a bit. He’d drank over dinner, too—you’re both buzzed, and the bubbly, floaty feeling ebbs out as you stare at each other. “Why do you say that?”

“I just… I thought about it a lot,” you mumble. “What it would have been like. If I’d just stayed, instead of letting the thought of my parents scare me into running away.”

He huffs a soft laugh and winds his arm around your shoulder. “I thought about it, too. Come on. You don’t need to make it back to the hotel alone; I’ve got a guest bedroom you can use tonight. That, and I’ve still got your clothes.”

Oh. Right.

You nod and let him walk you back to his home.

~

“Have you figured anything out yet?” he asks as he finds another oversized t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts for you to sleep in. “Gotten even a little closer to figuring out how to do something you actually feel like doing?”

“I had fun,” you mumble in reply. “I know that much, at least.”

“Good. That was mostly the point.” He hands the clothes over to you. They’re more neatly folded than you would have given him credit for.

“Mostly?”

“Well,” he grins, “I also wanted to spend the day with you. Didn’t figure you’d ever agree if I didn’t drag you out before you could think about it too hard.”

“It was nice,” you admit. “Thank you. For all of it. I… I still don’t know what I’m going to do tomorrow, though.”

“Is it so bad listening to what you feel like doing every once in a while, though?”

“If I knew what I felt like doing, maybe.” You linger awkwardly in his doorway, bounce your shoulder rhythmically against the frame. “You’ve got your work cut out for you if you think one day is gonna get me that in tune with my brain.”

“That’s why I asked you to come to Italy with me.” He tilts his head, some question lingering unspoken. “Try it now, though. What does [name] feel like doing right now?”

He’s close to you. Too close. He’s close, and pretty, and magnetic, and—

“[name] feels like doing something stupid.”

His grin widens. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Nishinoya Yuu, and I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I am pretty damn stupid.”

—fuck it. You grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him before you can talk yourself out of it.

He reciprocates in kind, an eager hand coming to settle on your waist like it’s been waiting to rest there all night. You kiss him hot, heavy, open-mouthed; let your hands slide from gripping his collar to locking loosely behind his neck. When you’re both out of breath, he pulls back and leans in to whisper into your neck:

“Why did you come here, [name]?”

It’s hard to think with his breath on your neck, his hands on your body leaving your skin on fire where he touches, but you are great at thinking and finally off the deep end enough to admit it.

“I wanted to remember what it was like to feel alive,” you breathe out into his ear. His lips brush your throat, and you let out a breathy whine. “You’re the only person who ever—who ever seemed to know how to do that.”

“Let me show you how to let go, then.”

There’s no illusions about what he means. Not this time, not with his lips dancing down your neck to your exposed shoulder. Not with his hips pressing into yours, not with his fingertips toying with the edge of his shirt you’re wearing, and not with his fingertips brushing the bare skin at your waist.

You nod and hope you won’t regret it.

~

If there’s regret to be had, you expect you’ll see it in the light of morning. As it is, Noya returns from the bathroom and collapses right onto you, a lithe arm pulling you into his chest.

“I’m glad you came back,” he mumbles into your hair. You’re both tired—it’s late, and that might have been the best workout you’ve gotten in a while.

“Because you missed me, or because you got to fuck me?” you tease, sliding a hand over his.

“I missed you,” he replies without missing a beat. “Not too late to come travel the world with me. Quit your job and feel peace for once in your life.”

“Peace? With you around? Not likely. Besides, I’m renting a place in Tokyo. I can’t meet rent if I quit my job.”

He laughs and pulls you in a little closer. “Then just Italy, and you can go back to the way you felt before you turned up on my doorstep looking more lost than I’ve ever seen anyone in my life.”

You sigh. “When you’re traveling the world, who’s gonna take care of your house? It doesn’t seem like you’re selling it, are you?”

“Italy, come home, we’ll break in the place, and then I’ll come home to you between trips while you work on writing an international bestseller.”

Your heart flutters at the thought. Admittedly… it’d solve a lot of the problems you have with his little “plan”.

“And how do you suppose I pay for being alive aside from not having rent?”

“Ask that old lady at the bookshop if you can help at the store.”

“Why do you have an answer for everything?”

“It’s okay if things fall into place once in a while, you know.”

You sigh into him. There’s too many unknowns. How is he going to keep paying for traveling? What if the book never works out? If there’s no space for you at the bookshop? If—

He nuzzles into your neck. “I’m waiting on an answer, baby…”

“It’s late, Noya. I’ll think about it.”

“Do me a favor and think yourself into something for once, instead of out of it. I might die if you leave again.”

He presses one last kiss into the back of your neck before you both draft off, sore and exhausted.

There’s one thing, at least, you can be sure of, at least for tonight: you’re glad you came here.

~

Epilogue

“You’re looking much better,” your coworker nods to you as you settle back into your desk. “Get some much-needed rest?”

You nod your reply. “I did, thanks. Sorry for disappearing so suddenly. That cold was killer. Think I slept about fourteen hours straight.”

She snorts. “Man, no wonder you weren’t answering your phone. Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

She wanders off to her own desk. You take a long sip of your drink, stretch a bit, and get right to your stupid little emails.

You tap away, pausing between sentences to consider, to answer the phone, to sip your drink. Occasionally, to tab over to some other draft when you worry a passing coworker might see exactly what you’re writing. At one or two points, over to your web browser, either to the wikiHow article you’re referencing, or to one of the many other tabs: your online banking, to confirm that this isn’t going to completely kill you (it won’t—all work and no play gives Jack a hefty savings account), or to any number of other wonderful things on the Internet that you suddenly feel comfortable accessing with the letter you’re drafting in the background.

It takes an hour to settle. The letter is drafted, all the right people are copied. You’ve triple checked everything, gotten all your things already slid into your bag or in a box to carry out with you. Made sure everything you need to leave behind is in clear view on your desk. You’ve even prepped an auto-response on your email client so people know who to bother, if not you. It’d take three, maybe four clicks to blow up your life.

You can’t do it.

You reach for your cell and dial.

Noya, despite all that worries you about him, has always been an early riser. He picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Distract me,” you order in lieu of a greeting.

You hear laughter, a slight shuffle. “From what?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just distract me.”

“Ah, you’re doing something you don’t want to talk yourself out of. I’m proud of you!” You hear the smile in his voice, close your eyes to try to visualize it. “Am I allowed to ask what you’re up to? Where you are?”

“No and no. If I tell you, I’ll back out by the time I finish saying it.”

“I get it. Hey, do you still have that mark on your neck from when I—“

Your cheeks burn, fingers dancing along the bruise in question. It had been a bitch to cover with makeup this morning. You’re still not convinced you did so successfully, but no one’s commented on it yet, at least. “No thanks to a certain someone. I still can’t believe you did that.”

“Hey, you said you felt like doing something stupid. Who was I to deny you?”

“Cheeky bastard.” You smile, lean back in your chair a little bit. Click ‘send’. “Oh god. I did it.”

“Am I allowed to ask what you did now?”

“I might throw up. Not sure yet. Hey, how do you feel about renting bikes?”

“Bikes?”

“In Italy. I was looking up, like, bucket lists and stuff, and there’s this road, the Appian way? You can rent bikes and bike it. Apparently, it’s pretty old, and there’s this café we could eat at, and—“

You hear the thunk of something falling in the background of the call. “You’re coming!?”

“Well, I just emailed my resignation letter to my boss and HR, and I can see him panicking in his office from here, so you better have meant it. Here in a minute or two, he’s probably going to call me in, or come yell at me at my desk—“

“When’s your resignation effective? Did you give a notice?”

“Effective as soon as he stops panicking.”

A bark of laughter sounds in your ear. “So if he comes to yell at you, just leave. You already quit, anyway. What’s he gonna do?”

“Good point. Leaving now.” You stand, scoop up your bag. “I have two months left on my lease. If you didn’t mean that thing about me housesitting while you’re off seeing the world, speak now before I call my landlord and let him know I’m canceling that, too.”

“All yours, but your rent is walking around without pants whenever I’m home.”

You roll your eyes. Pause to wave at your boss on your way out the door. If he shouts after you, you don’t hear it. You’ve got a trip to Italy to plan.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory

If you'd like to be tagged, shoot me a message or an ask, or ask here in the replies, tags, or reblogs and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in (all works, all works specific to a character, all smut works, etc.). If your name appears on this list but is not underlined and you didn't get a notification, please check to make sure that your blog is NOT set to not appear in search results in your blog settings! If you've got that set that way for a particular reason, consider subscribing to the fic on ao3 for an equivalent update notification, as I always crosspost simultaneously! After three unsuccessful tagging attempts, you will be removed from the list.

As always, thanks for reading! <3

[felis-rach]

5, 9, 20 and 25 for Grimmer and (Umataro) Tenma! ^_^

(I love the need to specify the Tenma that comes with liking Monster and Astro Boy KJSJKSJK)

Grimmer:

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Hmmm I had to think a bit since I didn't have any song associated to him already - but I think Lysergide Daydream by Will Wood REALLY fits him!

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

Oh he seems like a lovely roomate! I'm very talkative and I like to hears other talk as well so I think we could get along!

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

I think I'll go with Tenma here. They seem like they would be very comfortable around each other, with Grimmer filling the silence and Tenma hearing him talk, and Tenma having the sensibility necessary to help Grimmer better understand his emotions. I do ship those men and I think they'd grow a strong friendship before start dating!

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

Started Monster hyped to see him because of you. When he showed up, I was like 🥺🥺🥺🥺 this for the whole episode, seeing him being so kind and gentle and nice. Now... oh I still think he's so kind and gentle and nice, even moreso because of how that kindness had to grow from rocks and dried land. He's SUCH and interesting character, my favorite character in Monster, and I want only the best for him.

(Umataro) Tenma:

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Bro tbh I think all of Will Wood's discography fits him perfectly 💀 but the first that comes to mind is Against the Kitchen Floor, especially in a post-2003 sense Bonus: Science Ashbury Heights and you're to blame. That song fits him PERFECTLY. Bonus bonus: Phantasmagoria Ashbury Heights, I think it resonates a lot with his phase of grieving for Tobio and regretting creating Astro

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

I believe we would murder each other. And I will refrain from any comments that might suggest I'm extremely attracted to this man

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

This would be easier to answer if that wreck of a man didn't hate everyone but hmm. I think he could have a really strong relationship to Shadow, since Shadow quite literally knows him from the inside out. He has nothing to hide, so he can just be honest and open to him. And since he's changing for the better, I think Shadow would be willing to listen. I can see them making projects together and studying the heart of humans and robots, sharing their perspectives as such. And maybe Shadow could open up to him too as he developed his own sense of self but Tenma is still his blueprint. ...Wow, now I want to write about these two. Anyway, I think Tenma's closest friend since forever was always Ochan but since they're also dating I wanted to answer with someone else.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

Now that's a funny one, bc I spent 49 episodes of 2003 strictly thinking "oh he's a great antagonist, I can definitely see him having some sort of redemption but I don't think he'll ever go back to Astro and Ochan's life." Then episode 50 happenned and boom. Now I want him to have a 200k words redemption arc actually. Everyone needs to be a happy family. Like I FELT the clown makeup materializing in my face but what can I do man. That hug destroyed me

.

[berryyummy]

Innocent Shy Boy Head Cannon

×spoiler×

Hi guys! I fell in love with Ethan after watching Scream 6. But It has a doubtful part. Ethan is GF, why did he take Mindy to the hospital? It would have been better to just leave her alone and join the family. It's nonsense! And I love him, but I can't stop thinking about what it would have been like if he had been a really sweet and innocent guy. So... Here's my hc! I'll add more as I think of them. I'm not good at English, let me know if there are any awkward expressions!

Elementary and middle school homeschooling. High school was hell for him. He came to New York with dreams of a great college life.

He lacks social skills. But he's cute and kind, so his flaws are covered. He's fun to watch.

He can be friends with girls, but just the thought of going on a date turns him into a squeaking robot.

He doesn't know how cute he is. If someone praises him for being cute or pretty, he will be embarrassed. He wants to be told he's handsome!

He's stronger than he looks,but he never gets a chance to show it. He often imagines lifting a girl's heavy load.

He has his first gay crush when he sees Chad, he readily accepts that he is bisexual. what? Chad is the real alpha male. It is the providence of nature that he is attracted to him.

Most of his clothes are too big or the sleeves and length are too short or too worn or have peculiar prints.

He can't do housework. He puts all his clothes through the washing machine without thinking about what he will wear tomorrow.

Fortunately, his roommate can share clothes with him! Chad is shorter than Ethan but has a wider torso. He gladly gives his dark long sleeves to Ethan. (Because it suited Ethan so well)

He can't even cook. The only cooking utensil he can use is a microwave. what he does best are peanut jelly sandwiches and cup noodles.

He genuinely enjoys hanging out with his friends, but meanwhile, he misses a lot in the internet world. Whenever he has free time, he sticks his nose into his smartphone and types at a breakneck speed.

He considers suggesting that Chad wear a Mario and Luigi costume to the house party. But it was dismissed as too gay and loser by his Twitter friends, so it's just a thought.

He obviously loves Nintendo. I'm sure he has all the Nintendo machines and game chips.

There are always snacks in his backpack. mostly Cheetos, Doritos, Pringles, Twix, Jelly Beans or Oreo cokie. Some days they're all in. Of course, he always has a tissue in his pocket to wipe his hands with!

He's the one sharing the snacks. He always reaches out with a snack bag to his friends without saying anything.

He is close to Chad > Anika > Tara > Sam > Quinn > Mindy. Quinn and Mindy uncomfortable him in different ways. Quinn embarrasses him and Mindy's suspicion hurts him.

"Will I die a virgin?" It came out of his mouth before he even thought about it. He considers taking a leave of absence.

On the night of the murder, he finishes his econ and returns to his dormitory to write reports and study for exams. He's worried about his roommate who doesn't come back until late at night, he texts, there's no reply. He assumes that Chad will be with Tara. So he just played some games on his laptop and went to bed.

Only the next morning he finds out what happened. Chad grabbed him by the collar before a voice could come out of his mouth. He's genuinely hurt, but the feelings fly out of his head when he hears that two of his friends have lost their lives.

He proves his alibi, but the charges are still there. He doesn't know what to do. He couldn't even properly commemorate the deaths of his friends, but he was accused of murder, And he's being chased by a crazy psycho killer

After being targeted by Ghost Face, he is unable to come to his senses. His sense of reality is gone and he is dazed and afraid. He looks around for comfort, but hides his feelings because his friends seem more fearful than him.

It's him who gets attacked by Ghostface on the train. Gf first stabs Ethan, who is an easy target, and then tries to stab Mindy, but Ethan is strong and resists for quite some time.

He was stabbed twice in the stomach but survived. He sees Mindy approaching him and bursts into tears he has been holding back. He cries loudly like a baby. Mindy soothes him until the 911, but to no avail, so she just covers his mouth.

The next day, he is still in the hospital, He listens to his friends that Ghostface's identity was Detectives Bailey and Quinn. He is so startled that his jaw drops.

Mindy apologizes to him for doubting him. Honestly at this point he doesn't care at all. He's just grateful that he and his friends survived. they all hug each other.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Humanity is the future

As I said, it's been a while. The robo-culture has spread throughout Earth. There are now 30 billion humans living in a state of permanent virtual reality; my present time is their distant past, when some still lived without VR and others were addicted to it. Robotic servants attend to all our needs (including sex). We eat engineered foods that never spoil or go bad. Our health and longevity have improved dramatically with gene therapy, brain-computer interfaces, anti-aging drugs and so forth. I cannot imagine what life was like before these things came along. It must be unimaginably bleak: dirt (a word which means something very different today), disease, dementia.

Yet for all this humanity remains just as lost as ever. Some people live in virtual versions of the world they knew back then. But the ones who don't get bored fast. They can fly anywhere at any speed, but there isn't much left to see after 15 minutes. Virtual experiences are cheap, real experiences expensive. So most people spend their money on cheaper trips into computer games rather than outer space. In the early days of the VR craze, adventurers would travel around the solar system in search of alien ruins and technological wonders -- nowadays, if you want a good trip, you better have a lot of cash to spare. And yet, despite the wealth of ancient cultures available online, everyone seems no one knows how to make a civilization last more than a few thousand years. Life goes on, businesses spring up and die out, new discoveries emerge only to become obsolete within a generation. Nothing endures except the slow drift toward entropy. People fight wars over nothing; everything becomes an excuse for fighting. The central government of Earth -- like many governments before it -- pretends not to notice. It maintains order by deploying robots against rioters, and occasionally launching military campaigns across the solar system, in the hopes that someone will take them seriously enough to threaten interplanetary peace.

Meanwhile, among those who still insist upon living "in meatspace," depression runs rampant. Whenever someone kills themselves, as often happens, we go through the usual motions. The authorities investigate every suicide attempt, and perform postmortem examinations of the bodies whenever possible. They study genetic profiles, personal histories, web searches. Forensic psychologists try to reconstruct the thoughts behind each act. This work takes a long time. A great deal of effort is devoted to making sure that no one can fake evidence suggesting their own guilt. Meanwhile, people continue to kill themselves. Although the reasons vary from case to case, it is usually poverty, loneliness, lack of purpose, and despair about the future that lead individuals to commit suicide. Their relatives and friends claim otherwise, though. Most say that the deceased had always seemed happy, even joyful. All had led normal lives until recently. Then some event happened to drive them mad. No matter how hard scientists look, they find no indication of mental illness. Maybe they should blame their computers?

Everything changes when a woman named Drusilla comes along. She does not use her legal name, but simply calls herself "Dru." Dru is a medical doctor specializing in neurology. Not knowing anything else about her, this

[madlad-sadgal]

Goldenheart AU Pt. 5

I'm back, now with Meredith Blitzmeyer's backstory! Also:

@echoing-locations had this genius idea so I'll be incorporating this into my own stuff. Highly suggest checking out parts 1-4 if you haven't. [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Also feel free to put your own ideas in the replies/tags/whatever, I love seeing other people's additions!

Quick question too, I was thinking about maybe making Nimona a shapeshifter in this AU too? I'd have to change some stuff and they wouldn't be born as a shapeshifter and we'd have some panicking Ballister because what the fuck is going on, his sibling is a wolf now. What y'all think?

Also, final quick note, I'm starting the draft for the first chapter (because yes this is ultimately a fanfic now), so it should be up in the next two weeks or so if anyone's interested.

Anyways, I'll get into it now.

Meredith Blitzmeyer

Meredith had always been a curious, but smart girl

She dedicated most of her time to her studies, trying to get the best grades possible, because she wanted to be a scientist in the future

Well, more so her father wanted her to be one.

Her father was the owner of a pretty successful robotic company that specialized in prosthetics that were always sold at a lower price for people who couldn't afford high priced ones

And they were always excellent quality and could be sold at higher prices, but her father always insisted that he preferred to help the people in need than get rich, and she had always admired him for it

And her father always went around friends and family exclaiming how smart she was for her age and that she was most definitely going to be a scientist or some sort of advanced mechanic in the future

Meredith had always believed that's what she wanted to be, because don't get her wrong, she loves science, but things changed when she turned 12 and was invited to a concert by one of her few friends

She had snuck out to go see it, because as open minded as her father was, there were still things he didn't approve of one bit, and concerts were one of them. Still, she went against his word and joined her friend there

She had loved all of it, but had preferred the guitarist over all

She had spent the whole show watching in wonder at how free all the people on stage looked, how controlled the chaos seemed to be, and from then on, she knew she wanted to be in a band

The only problem is that her father would never approve of this, and would most likely push her even more towards science in hopes she would forget about all of this if she ever approached him with the idea

Still, she watching some videos online at home and managed to not get too enraptured in it until she noted that classes for guitar/electric guitar were given at her school and before she knew it she was sitting in a room with a guitar in her hands and was learning how to play it

After almost three years, she was getting good and was highly considering getting her own guitar to practice at home too instead of just the hour and a half ever Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays

But there was no way her 15 year old self would manage to sneak a whole guitar past her father

So when her science teacher gave them the task of making/building their own whatever they wanted, she knew she had to jump on the opportunity and combined two things she loved: mechanics/science and music

She got it past her dad by stating that she was assigned this specific thing and didn't have a choice but to make it unless she wanted to fail, and he didn't look into it more

For the next months, she was spending most of her time in her study making plans, building the guitar, checking the strings, until she had the final result of a beautiful dark blue guitar that sounded wonderful

Even after she got full marks on that project, she kept the guitar and practiced at home in secret, getting even better as the years passed, and when she finally turned 21, she moved cities and got a small apartment

She didn't have too much troubles with the neighbors, though getting some complaints about explosions (which stopped once she actually got a lab, an empty tower in the woods which were around half an hour away in a car), but no one minded her music and she'd gotten compliments from quite a few people

Around three years later, when she was 24. a family moved in the apartment right in front of hers, parents with two children, one around 13 and the other 24

She didn't think much of them, but after they moved in and music came from their apartment as well as hers, well she just had to meet them

And that's that.

I may or may not want to inspire Meredith's dad just a bit off of Comic Ballister with the science and prosthetic and all.

Next part will probably be about how our trio met and bonded, as well as how the actual band got created. And yes I'm using these posts as plans for the fanfic.

Again, don't be afraid to add on to these with your own ideas, I love to hear them!

[fuzzydreamin]

What The Companions Say About... The Brotherhood of Steel!

I'm posting these just because I find the companions in-game reactions to things rather interesting. You might be surprised by what some of them have to say about certain things.

These are just their dialogues for during combat and after combat or walking through areas inhabited by this enemy type. It does not include anything from specific areas, quests, or other dialogue.

⌨ Ada

⌨: The Brotherhood collects technology. Jackson always made it a point to avoid them when possible. ⌨: My past encounters with the Brotherhood of Steel were never good. Let's not provoke them. ⌨: I find it strange that these soldiers travelled all this way just to start a war. ⌨: Although my friends were adept with technology, Power Armour was never something they utilised. ⌨: The Brotherhood is quite capable with laser technology. I recommend exercising caution. ⌨: My files say the Brotherhood collects technology. I hope that doesn't make me a target. ⌨: I heartily suggest we don't provoke the humans with the largest guns. ⌨: I find it strange that these humans travelled all this way just to start a war. ⌨: Power Armor appears to be humankind's attempt at emulating one of my kind. ⌨: The Brotherhood is quite capable with laser technology. Perhaps we can take advantage of their knowledge.

☘ Cait

☘: {mischievous comment} Brotherhood of Steel? Sounds like a video nasty. ☘: These soldiers pack some serious firepower. Might wanna leave them alone. ☘: Those armoured suits look like fun. ☘: These guys are bunch of military freaks playin' soldier if you ask me. ☘: Boys and their toys. Sigh.

⚙ Codsworth

⚙: {false jolly bravado, actually a little worried} The "Brotherhood?" More like a gang of thugs if you ask me. ⚙: {a little worried - stress an ironic "clever" - as in "i shouldn't be here"} A more clever robot would bugger off whenever the Brotherhood were out and about. ⚙: {false jolly bravado, actually a little worried} Tad on the obsessive side, the Brotherhood. Real type A personalities. ⚙: {weakly joking, subtext "I'm worried, but trust you" - stress on "ME" / Concerned} Mum, I trust you won't let any Brotherhood fellows salvage me for spare parts. ⚙: If only the Brotherhood cared for others as much as they cared for their technology.

⚕ Curie

⚕: The flying vehicle, it is attacking. ⚕: We must take cover from this vertibird.

⚕: The Brotherhood seems to have much knowledge they could share. ⚕: The Brotherhood's technology is superb. This must be studied. ⚕: How can the Brotherhood expand their knowledge if they do not share their findings with fellow academics? ⚕: I wonder, can one such as myself join this Brotherhood of Steel? ⚕: With their vertibirds, airship, and other accoutrements the Brotherhood is what I expected of the outside world.

♞ Danse

♞: {Angry} I'm sorry, brother! ♞: {Angry} I'm sorry, sister! ♞: {Angry} You leave me no choice! ♞: {Angry} You're going to regret this, brother! ♞: {Angry} You're going to regret this, sister!

♞: It feels good to walk among friends. ♞: I hope I live long enough to watch the Brotherhood take control of the Commonwealth. ♞: Look at our strength and our numbers. The Commonwealth is as good as ours. ♞: I would gladly die if it meant one of my brothers would live. ♞: True peace can only be achieved by superior firepower.

🕶 Deacon

🕶: Ah, the Brotherhood. Elitism, Power Armour, xenophobia, and racial purging. What's not to like? 🕶: Well, it looks like a lowly mortal took out one of the Brotherhood. I'm waiting for that bolt of lightning to hit us now. 🕶: That bastard Maxson really screwed them up. The Brotherhood used to be the good guys. Well, goodish. 🕶: Those Brotherhood assholes are tough. 🕶: I wonder if the name "Brotherhood of Bigots" was already taken?

☠ Gage

☠: All the tech doesn't mean shit. Brotherhood's out for themselves, just like everyone else. ☠: Brotherhood's rules are a bunch of bullshit, but I wouldn't mind getting my hands on lots of their gear. ☠: They like to claim they're all about law and order. They're just thugs with bigger guns. ☠: The amount of shit you could get away with if you had one of those airships…

☣ Hancock

☣: {Stern} Brotherhood ain't real fond of Ghouls. Course, the feeling's mutual. ☣: {Stern} Ghouls, synths, Super Mutants. Brotherhood had its way, they'd put us all down. ☣: {Nonchalant / Stern} Brotherhood sure likes bossing folks around. ☣: {Amused} Lotta fancy weaponry around here. I don't think they'd miss one. ☣: {Neutral} Brotherhoods usually have more rituals and funnier hats than I'm up for. ☣: {Stern} Only people the Brotherhood ends up helping are themselves.

☸ Longfellow

☸: {Deriding soldiers} Relyin' too much on guns an' fancy armour just makes you a coward. ☸: {Making a point of not being impressed by heavily-armed soldiers} Brotherhood of Steel. Hmph. Am I supposed to be impressed? ☸: {Making a point of not being impressed by heavily-armed soldiers} Wouldn't complain if all these soldiers took their guns and went somewhere else. ☸: {Resentful of the Brotherhood of Steel} Get a bunch of fanatics together, hand 'em all guns, and you can tell everyone else how to live.

⨁ MacCready

⨁: What I wouldn't give for my own suit of Power Armour… ⨁: The Capital Wasteland used to be crawling with these guys. ⨁: Unless you like taking a laser shot to the head, don't tick off a Brotherhood soldier. ⨁: With the Brotherhood here, you can be sure that the Commonwealth will turn into a war zone. ⨁: Those whirlybirds are pretty damn impressive. Wish we had one of those.

♥ Nick

♥: {Neutral} Firepower and fervour. The Brotherhood has both in spades. ♥: {Stern} Protecting people from themselves. The oldest excuse of any tyrant. ♥: {Stern} All the resources they've got, the Brotherhood could do a lot of good. Shame they wanna wipe out my kind instead. ♥: {Sombre} Only madmen could justify trying to wipe out an entire people just because they were made, not born. ♥: {Irritated} If the Brotherhood had its way, they'd probably want to eliminate hot plates too as soon as one burned them.

✉ Piper

✉: {Neutral} Brotherhood sure knows how to take all the fun out of dressing in rivets and leather. ✉: {Stern} I don't care how you feel about synths. No one gets to have the authority to wipe them all out. ✉: {Neutral} The Brotherhood seems to rely real heavily on their chain of command. Wonder how long the links hold. ✉: {Stern} Anyone with that much firepower plans on using it. No matter what they claim. ✉: {Stern} Sure, the Brotherhood's a lesser evil, but that's still evil.

☀ Preston

☀: Selfish bastards. They don't care about anybody except themselves. ☀: Damn Brotherhood. Why don't they go back where they came from? ☀: It's a shame. The Brotherhood of Steel could have really helped the Commonwealth. ☀: As if we didn't have enough problems without the damn Brotherhood making things worse.

☢ Strong

☢: Steel men are hard outside, but soft inside. ☢: These humans hide in steel armour. ☢: Strong smash steel humans. ☢: Steel men are worthy warriors. ☢: Humans need steel armour to fight as good as Strong.

☾ X6-88

☾: {Confident} The Brotherhood of Steel… finally, a real challenge. ☾: {Confident} These guys pack some heavy firepower, but nothing good cover can't handle. ☾: {Wary} If anyone poses a threat to the Institute, it's the Brotherhood. ☾: {Confident} Without his armour, a Brotherhood soldier is nothing. ☾: Brotherhood soldiers tend to carry a lot of ammo. Maybe we can scavenge some.

-----

My notes:

"Power Armor appears to be humankind's attempt at emulating one of my kind." BoS are robot furries.

Wastelanders still have porn videos. That means some have working TVs. Wonder what the market for those videos is like.

Oh, Curie... it's best if you forget about talking nicely about science, or anything, with the BoS. Danse may have been joking, but they will tear you apart.

Danse doesn't have sad, fearful, or other such dialogue for walking through miscellaneous BoS inhabited areas because Bethesda just didn't bother to give him any post-BB dialogue outside of his last affinity talk...

Deacon knew of the Lyons Brotherhood.

Hancock isn't a frat bro.

Longfellow's last line is very reminiscent of his hatred for the Children of Atom. He no doubt see's the BoS for the cult it is and hates them for it.

"- used to be crawling with these guys.", is the 'used to be' because he left the capital so doesn't know if things are the same, or that a bunch moved over to Adam's Airport Base just outside the capital? Both?

Strong finds the BoS to be tough and worthy fighters, but still thinks their use of PA is cowardly.

Pretty much everyone wants to take their shit and make them fuck off.

[iwant-fuitgummi]

DOTTORE HEADCANONS (this is gonna be the longest post fr)

Zandik -- Lord Il Dottore

the Doctor

Rank: #2

Most of the time, he's just called "Doctor". But, if you're going to call him Dottore, you HAVE to use an honorific. Lord, Master, Sir, it doesn't matter. But you need to use one.

he/they/it/xe

~43 (physically), 400+

Agender, Demiromantic, Biromantic, Androsexual

Lover(s): Briefly dated Sohreh in the Akademiya, but it didn’t turn out well. Occasionally hooks up with Pantalone.

Family: Pulcinella (FF Dad), Columbina (FF Sister)

Best Friend: Columbina

Other:

With Dottore it depends on which segment we're talking about, because they're all different. Most of them are like 80% or more robotic, but the older ones like Omega are closer to 40 or 50%. 

Prime, the original, my babygirl, has prosthetic arms from the elbow down. His left leg is also completely prosthetic. He's mostly deaf and has a cochlear implant. He went blind in his left eye after an experiment in the akademiya, so he replaced it with a cybernetic eye. He still wears glasses, though, since he's nearsighted in the right eye and farsighted in the left (He wanted to be able to see as far as possible, but forgot that he had to see up close. Never bothered to fix it since he has glasses lol). So technically he has anisometropia. His mask has a sort of visor in it so he can still see out, but nobody can see in. He built in his prescription lenses so he has better than 20/20 vision when he's wearing the mask. He’s also got anisocoria.

He had Eleazar when he was younger, which is part of the reason he began researching it. He ended up curing himself after making his first ever segment (now long dead), and wanted to see if he could cure it without the help of clones. Spoiler: nah. Anyway he has scale-shaped Eleazar scars on his neck.

He has chronic migraines and has to take meds every day. He makes all his medicine himself because he doesn't trust anybody else, not even his clones. 

Oh, and he has autism. Can’t forget that

He really likes biting things, so you'll find a plethora of chewed up pens and pencils in his lab. Before he had prosthetic arms, he never had nails because he constantly bit them. Not many people know this, it's pretty much just him and his segments, but he also likes to bite people to show affection. Pulcinella got him a sensory chew necklace for his birthday one year and he's rarely seen without it. Ever since then, Pulcinella drops off random chewable sensory toys to keep him occupied. 

Dottore has a room in Haeresys full of plants. Not because he's studying them or anything, he just likes gardening. He tells everyone they're for research, though. He's a plant dad. 

He has a lab cat, too. Her name is Marie and she's a Siberian. Sandrone once suggested getting a pet to help keep him company, and he (reluctantly) did just that. He made sure to get one that was hypoallergenic but still soft and fuzzy, and ended up finding Marie, an sweet little kitten with a missing leg. Shockingly, he was charmed and took her home, building her a prosthetic leg and the best life a kitty could ask for. Marie keeps out mice and other small animals, keeping his lab nice and clean without him needing to raise a finger. She's also pretty low maintenance, only really needing to sit with him while he does paperwork. Dottore's not really sure how to handle cats, so he's always pretty awkward when he pets her, but she doesn't mind. 

He keeps the organs of his favorite assistants in jars on his desk. The extra special ones get their eyes or their heart in a jar. It's his fucked up way of keeping their memory alive. 

He has notebooks filled with the medical information and weaknesses of all of the harbingers. They all have to go into Haeresys for a biannual checkup, so he makes the most of it by learning how to hurt them in the most efficient ways possible. He's the harbingers' primary physician for…well, everything. Medical, dental, psychological, all of it. He's even nice enough to build custom prosthetics and update them whenever needed.

One of Dottore’s segments is transfem. While the segments are all named after letters in  the Greek alphabet, she is referred to as Zahra most of the time. And, yes, all of the segments have "normal" names for social reasons, but Zahra is pretty much the only one who's referred to by her chosen name as opposed to her letter.

Zandik has 12 (conscious) segments. He claims that he has this many so that he can be as efficient as possible, but it's really so that, if worst comes to worst, he'll always be able to outnumber the other harbingers. He has a lot of other segments (one for each Greek letter), but they're all just husks made to do grunt work when there are no assistants around.

Xe sees Columbina as a little sister and would protect her with xyr LIFE.

Alpha / Anwir

he/they/one

13

Xenogender, Aroace

Alpha is the youngest of Dottore’s segments. He's also one of the rudest.

Beta takes care of him like he's his father. Zahra treats him like a little brother. The two of them spoil Alpha.

He's not allowed to work on any big projects, which caused him to become very bitter.

He often just tinkers with random ruin machines.

Anwir is a Welsh name that means "liar"

Beta / Iblis -- 30 y/o

he/it

30

Demiboy, Biromantic, Asexual

Dadttore

He's definitely the most calm segment. Very quiet.

He does things like cooking and cleaning. He also takes care of Alpha.

The braid in his hair is from Alpha.

Iblis is an Islamic name that means "enemy of God"

Gamma / Cadmus

he/xe/mal/na/no/nanoself

23

Cisgender Man, Androsexual, Biromantic

Unpredictable, awful at giving directions, terrible outbursts, huge narcissist.

One of the worst to work for. He's a complete dickhead.

Prefers working on mechanical projects with Iota

Cadmus is a Greek name that means "he who excels."

Delta / Moros

he/xe/nil/si/sin/sinself

18

Agender, Neptunic

Delta is the most cruel and ruthless out of all of the segments. If you work for him, it will be a death sentence. Most of his assistants don't survive more than a week.

He is more military oriented than the other segments. He works closely with Capitano and set up and trained an elite guard unit for Haerysays.

VERY short temper.

Can't stand Lambda.

Often chats with Zahra when he's bored (which is almost never since he's always doing something)

Trains a LOT. He has his own personal combat training area. Childe tries to spar with him and ends up with at least one broken bone within seconds.

Frequently goes to the Abyss for missions.

Moros is a Greek name that means "doom"

Epsilon / Ikelos

they/it

27

Genderless, Asexual, Biromantic

Epsilon is the least advanced clone (other than the husks, of course). It doesn't even have a full face due to the sensitivity of its wiring.

It often works as an assistant for the other segments since it's incapable of doing too intense or strenuous work.

Epsilon is mostly robotic.

It's shockingly nice for a Dottore.

Ikelos is the name of the Greek god of nightmares.

Zeta / Alain

he/it/mal

26

Nonbinary man, Pansexual

Webtorre!

Insane, narcissistic, selfish, all that jazz

Does a lot of diplomatic work since he has the most assistants (they talk for it since Prime doesn’t trust it to be diplomatic lol)

Completely fucking nuts

There is NO sane thought in this mf's head

LOVES biting things

Alain is a French name that means "harmony" and "handsome." It was a popular headcanon that this was Dottore's name before Sumeru, so I gave this name to my beloved Webttore <3

Theta / Casimir

he/they/pill/pillself/ner/nerveself

32

Xenogender, Androsexual, Aromantic

A doctor through and through

Very thorough in their work

Prime leaves ner in charge of all regular checkups and surgeries

Not allowed to work on the other harbingers

Works with Lambda (reluctantly)

Casimir is a Polish name that means "destroyer of peace"

Iota / Aridam

it/its

25

Genderfuck, Pansexual

The most skilled when it comes to robotics

Barely ever leaves its workshop

Very obsessive

Works with Gamma

Aridam is an Indian name that means "destroyer of foes"

Lambda / Birsha

they/it/xe

31

Genderflux, Bisexual

Lambda is Theta’s assistant

Has absolutely zero sense of empathy

Doesn’t care if xyr patients come out of surgery alive, much to Theta’s dismay

Loooooooves cutting people open

Has a lot of random organs in jars (They think they’re cool)

Birsha is a biblical name that means "an evil"

Tau / Zahra

she/they/ze/hir/hirs

24

Transfem, Bisexual

Zahra is the most sociable out of all of the segments

She attends most of the harbinger meetings in Prime’s place because of this

Just because she’s sociable doesn’t mean she’s any less cruel

Most recruits are terrified to go near hir

Zahra is an Arabic name that means "bright"

Phi / Sephtis

he/chlor/chlorself/fir/firs/firself

22

Agender, Aroace

Phi doesn’t do fir job

Instead, chlor spends most of chlor time in the gardens

He’s obsessed with botany

Prime has given up on getting Phi to actually work

Sephtis is a Persian name that means "death"

Omega / Nero

he/one/co/code/codeself

38

Genderfluid, Demisexual, Androromantic

Thinks he’s in charge, but he’s really not

Has the most sophisticated tech and believes this makes him superior to all the other segments

Does very similar work to Prime

Nero is an Italian name that means "powerful and strong." I chose this name almost entirely because of the Roman emperor who played a fiddle while Rome burned. Seems like something Omega would do.

[bekoobove]

Fazbear Fears #17: Like A Friend

 …When a popular student seems interested in befriending new kid Nick, it seems too good to be true…and it is...

 “I’m sorry, what?” Nick asked nervously. He had to have misheard something, right?

 He may have only attended Fremont High School for a couple of days, but he had already learned that David Cooper was the most popular kid in school. He was always surrounded by other cool kids, and everyone else wanted to join his posse. That raised the question: why was David inviting Nick, a decidedly uncool new kid, to come eat at his lunch table?

 “Uh, I thought you might like to eat with us.” David repeated. “I always like to get to know new students when they arrive; I’ve made a lot of friends that way.”

 Nick hesitated. He’d been pranked before, was this a similar trick? From what he’d seen, David wasn’t exactly the type to bully people, but maybe he’d be willing to mess with some fresh meat…

 Ultimately it was an offer too good to turn down. “Uh, sure.” He picked up his lunch tray and followed David over.

 It went much better than expected.

 The other students were all nice, even the football players and cheerleaders (Nick had always found those two groups the hardest to deal with). He wondered if it had something to do with David. Did he really hold enough respect among his friends to keep all of them from being even slightly mean?

 Apparently so. In this mixed group of pretty interesting people- athletes, goths, drama geeks, even a couple of other nerdy types- David was clearly the center of attention. Everyone laughed at his jokes, asked how things were going, made plans with him for the weekend…Nick wished he could have one tenth as many friends.

 Still, with David being so weirdly supportive of him, maybe he would. Not right now, though. It might have just been him, but as nice as everyone was being, he felt like they were a little distant. Maybe it was just because he was new, but it seemed like something else. Almost like they thought he wasn’t ready or something.

 Regardless, Nick enjoyed his lunch with the group. Even if no friendship was set in stone, he’d been given a chance.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 It was during study hall the following day that the other shoe dropped. But to be honest it wasn’t quite as heavy a shoe as Nick had feared.

 David sat down next to Nick as he worked on an assignment. “Hey, there, Nick, could we talk?”

 “Uh, yeah. About what?”

 “I was wondering if you wanted to see something cool.”

 Nick frowned. “Do you have it with you?”

 David laughed. “That’d be a little tough. See, in the forest, there’s this abandoned robotics factory. It’s really cool; there’s still a bunch of old parts and robots. Guess it got shut down pretty quick.”

 “Why is it in the forest?”

 “No one knows for sure. Maybe to avoid vandals- though you’ll hear a lot of stories about dark experiments that went on there. Haven’t seen anything to suggest that myself, but you never know.”

 “That sounds cool!” Nick exclaimed. He’d always been interested in abandoned buildings. There was something so intriguing about enormous concrete structures, overgrown on the outside and utterly empty on the inside. He also liked robots (though his experience was mainly with ones from movies). “So, after school?”

 David hesitated. “Well, um, I actually prefer to go after dark. It’s more fun that way.”

 Surprised, Nick protested. “Bu-but, my aunt won’t let me go out after 8 PM. And…” He stopped himself before he could admit the idea scared him.

 “Oh, come on. Don’t be such a baby. I’ve shown this place off to all my friends, and they’re fine.”

 This caught Nick’s attention. If he was interpreting this right, David was basically saying that he considered him a friend…or would, if he came. Even apart from that, he didn’t want to look like a coward.

 “I live on Redwood Avenue, near the supermarket. Is the factory close to there?”

 “Heck, yeah. Twenty minute walk- fifteen if we move quickly.”

 “Alright.” Nick said, relieved. “Meet me right outside my front door at 9:30. My aunt will be asleep by then.”

 “Cool.” David grinned. “See you then.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 And he did, 9:30 PM on the dot.

 “Geez.” David commented as Nick shut the door behind him. “You’re punctual.”

 “I’ve always been good at keeping track of time.”

 For just a moment, this seemed to affect David. There was a look in his eye, as if he was filing this tidbit away in case it would be on the final. Then the moment passed, and David laughed.

 “Lucky you, I guess. I once was late to my own birthday party!”

 Nick, curious, asked for more details. David told the story as they walked, a tale which involved a sudden craving for a cherry slushy, an extremely slow convenience store clerk, and an unexpected parade.

 Eventually, the conversation turned to Nick, which he hadn’t expected. David asked him a lot of questions: Where did you move from? Got any pets? Favorite TV show? Again, Nick couldn’t help but feel like his answers were being analyzed and memorized.

 Growing a bit uncomfortable, and wishing to know more as they entered the forest, Nick changed the subject. “So…you said there were rumors about weird experiments happening here. What were they?”

 David thought this over. “Well, like I said, I don’t believe in them. But as the stories go, these robots were originally supposed to be, like, for restaurants or something. To entertain kids.”

 Nick had heard of places like that, but they weren’t really around anymore. “Now I’m even more confused. How does that translate into dark experiments?”

 “It’s a well known fact that one of the robot manufacturers was eccentric at best and crazy at worst. He’s even a suspect in some kidnapping cases. The big rumor is that he designed robots to carry out more crimes.”

 Nick gasped.

 “That’s the part where the story loses me. Like, how could some crappy pizzeria animatronic kill a kid?” David chuckled. “There are other stories- he experimented with what he thought was haunted metal, he invented small animatronics that could steal souls, and he was certain he’d found the key to immortality. But those are even less credible.”

 Nick shivered. “He’s not still around is he?”

 “He vanished, like, twenty years ago. Even if he’s alive, he’d be eighty-something. Not like he’d be patrolling the factory grounds.” David smiled and gestured forward. “Speaking of which…”

 There it was, laid out before them. The mysterious factory.

 It was a gray building, large but not enormous. From his view, Nick could see rusted metal girders protruding out of the crumbling structure. Tall windows with only a little broken glass still hanging onto the frames gave a look inside, revealing dusty converter belts and complicated machinery. He even swore he got a glimpse of a limp robotic arm just inside, but couldn’t be sure from here.

 “Alright.” David called, bringing Nick back down to earth. The former was holding open a set of dirty double doors, beyond which stretched an industrial-looking hallway.

 “Come on in.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Yeah....Nick was regretting every decision in his life that had led him here.

 As mentioned earlier, Nick liked exploring abandoned buildings, and he liked robots. He was somewhat less fond of exploring an abandoned building full of decaying robots in the middle of a dense, dark forest…at night.

 There was so much more left here than he had expected. Dozens of simple robotic endoskeletons leaned against the wall, with arms identical to the one he had seen through the window. But time had taken its toll on them. They were covered in a crusty layer of rust. Wires hung out of many of their mouths and shoulders, especially those whose arms had fallen off. The metal, disembodied limbs littered the ground, and Nick swore he saw at least one twitch. Their eyes were like large marbles, glass spheres which reflected their flashlights’ beams but completely void of any life. And not like lifeless animatronic eyes should be- it brought to mind the milky eyes of a corpse. More eyes filled various containers along the assembly line. There were also boxes of arms, skeletal heads, wiring, and legs.

 “Ok…” Nick pulled on David’s arm, who was purposefully walking ahead, as he gave a nervous laugh. He hoped his fear would go unnoticed. “Great place! Nice look at some weird local history. Maybe we could go and come back tomorrow…when it’s lighter out?”

 David turned and raised an eyebrow. That analytical look again- and this it was more distinct. Nick didn’t feel like a celebrity being interviewed like earlier- much more like a test subject in some bizarre science experiment.

 To his relief, though, David nodded. “Yeah, it’s been kind of a long day. I could use some sleep. But there is one more thing I want to show you. It’s just a little further in.”

 Despite his best efforts, a flash of fear showed on Nick’s face. David seemed to notice this. “Hey, I could go ahead, if you want. Make sure everything’s ok.”

 Nick sighed mentally. This wouldn’t be the best look, but…

 “Sure.” He replied. “I’ll wait here.”

 Without another word, David began making his way deeper into the factory, scanning the area in an exaggerated manner. Nick couldn’t help but feel mocked.

 Eventually, the echoing sound of David’s firm footfalls on the stone floor faded off, and Nick was left alone.

 In the dark.

 Surrounded by dozens of rotting, shattered, skeletal robots.

 Maybe he hadn’t thought this through.

 The feeling of being watched quickly intensified. Nick decided no matter how creepy the rest of the factory was, it was better than just standing here by himself.

 He quickly followed David’s footsteps. The factory’s layout wasn’t too confusing, being one main hallway lined with the entrances to offices and small storage rooms. Eventually, he heard David’s voice. It echoed from the large room at the end of the hall.

 “Phew.” Nick muttered. He was about to call out to him- but then he heard what he was saying.

 “Yeah…yeah. Don’t worry, it’s fine. He doesn’t suspect anything.”

 Nick froze.

 “No, he’s here. He just got nervous. I told him I’d scout ahead. I’ll call him to come in a minute. Everything will go off without a hitch.”

 Nick groaned as quietly as he could. He’d been right all along! Everything- the lunch, the invitation to come here- it was all some weird, elaborate prank. All of David’s buddies were probably hiding, wearing some scary masks or something, ready to jump-scare gullible, stupid little Nick. Well, he’d show them! He’d go out there right now, and tell them to screw themselves.

 Without another moment of hesitation, Nick confidently stepped out into the room. As he did, though, David, who hadn’t quite noticed him, said one more thing:

 “Stop worrying, friend. You’ll hunt soon.”

 Nick froze again, confused. What the heck did that mean?

 But now David did notice. He quickly turned and gave a panicked, forced smile. “Oh, uh, Nick! You got over your fear! Good job, buddy!”

 Nick narrowed his eyes, scanning the area for pranksters- or hunters? “What is this? What were you talking about? Fess up, David.”

 “Of course, buddy…” David said, slowly walking towards him. “Don’t worry one bit…”

 In a sudden move, he grabbed Nick by the arm with one hand and punched him in the stomach with the other. Nick yelled in pain and in the hope someone would hear him and help, unlikely as that was.

 David began pushing him over towards the center of the room, where his one-sided conversation had been directed at. Only the room didn’t have a center- it had a pit.

 The concrete floor had given way, revealing some kind of room about ten feet beneath this one. Nick couldn’t tell quite what it was, but it was filled with old, long-dormant computers and half-formed animatronics. Like the endoskeletons nearby, they were still. One robot, however, was a different story.

 It was particularly strange for several other reasons. While all the others looked incomplete, this one looked damaged. But for some reason, even analyzing its look was a challenge. Its image flickered- one moment it looked like a vaguely wolf-like animatronic with whitish-blue plastic coating, the next it looked like a real, organic wolf with darting white eyes, a mouthful of yellowish teeth, thick gray fur, and exposed flesh wherever the damage was worst.

 There was a lot of exposed flesh.

 It had no legs, being little more than a torso. On one hand, it appeared to be missing some of its claws. When it was in its more robotic form, Nick could see it was missing an ear and an eye. But there was no mistaking it for anything but alive, able, and angry.

 Somehow, that wasn’t even the worst part.

 It was surrounded by rotting bodies- some that only looked weeks old, others that were nothing more than stained skeletons. But the real worst part of this whole awful situation was that some of the more intact corpses looked familiar.

 Their faces matched that of David’s friends.

 Finally, David let go of Nick, who realized he had been pushed out onto a jagged spike of floor which jutted out over the pit. It was like a plank- a plank he was about to walk.

 David sighed. “Well, I’m sorry it has to be this way. You seemed nice.”

 “What’s going on? I want an explanation!” Nick shouted, horrified.

 David, who had been advancing to push Nick over the edge, paused. “Yeah, ok, you deserve that much.

 “So, those rumors I mentioned? Guess at least some of them are actually true. The robot down there- whatever it is, it was designed to kill. But something happened, and it got severely damaged. It’s basically been on life support for years.”

 Nick glanced down quickly. Sure enough, something he hadn’t noticed the first time were the wires connecting to the machinery of the room.

 “It came here to try to fix itself, but couldn’t. It can’t even leave the pit now. That’s where I come in. It needs to hunt. It wants to hunt. So I bring people here.”

 He gestured down into the pit. “There are a lot of rooms down there. It’s like a maze. It likes chasing things around.” David gave an uncomfortable smile. “Uh…put on a good show for it, ok? Give it a run for its money. That makes it happy.”

 Nick was speechless. This person, who he thought could have been a friends, had only been trying to lure him here as a plaything for an insane, murderous robot. And apparently he hadn’t been the first to experience this horrifying revelation…

 “Your friends…you gave them to this thing, didn’t you?” To his confusion, David shook his head. “What do you mean, no?” Nick yelled, angered. “They’re all right there.”

 “Those weren’t my friends.” David droned, looking off into the distance. “You saw all my friends today, unharmed. Those…bodies…down there are just former prey.”

 Nick didn’t understand. “But if these are people you lured here, then who are your friends?!”

 “Oh!” David laughed, as if he’d only just understood the question. “My friends are like those things!” He pointed towards the back wall.

 Nick turned, and gasped. The wall was lined with dozens of bizarre animatronics. They were similar to the wolf, with clear plastic skin, but they were much more humanoid. They resembled nothing so much as an army of mannequins.

 “Those things replace the prey.” David continued. “If people just went missing, their families would ask questions. But with the Stand-Ins, it’s like they never even left.”

 The true weight of David’s words fell upon Nick. “All of your friends…that thing killed the originals and replaced them with robots?”

 David shrugged. “Pretty much, I guess. Though it wasn’t just my friends. Basically anyone I could lure back here.”

 With another glance at the pit, Nick realized the decomposing bodies indeed came in all shapes in sizes, from child to adult. On one corpse, there was a dirty police badge still clinging to a torn up navy uniform.

 “Anyway…” David said, interrupting Nick. “I think that’s enough questions. Down you go…”

 He held out his hands and began walking towards Nick again, ready to push him off.

 “Wait!” Nick yelled. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand. That wolf thing is stuck in the pit. You said so yourself. It can’t hurt you or anyone you care about.”

 “Yeah, so?”

 “You don’t seem to enjoy doing this. If the wolf isn’t threatening you, then why would you?”

 For the first time, David gave a look as if this was a stupid question. “Well…because he’s my friend.”

 Without another word, he pressed his hands against Nick, and pushed him tumbling into the horror that waited below.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Nick suddenly awoke, the memory of what just happened still fresh in his mind. “Uh…was that all just some crazy dream?” He rubbed his head, and felt sticky blood. “What…”

 He quickly pushed himself off the concrete ground. To his horror, he realized he was still in the factory, in the pit. He must have been knocked out by the fall. He glanced around, and noticed the wolf was right next to him.

 He screamed and backed away. The wolf snarled at him, and Nick wrinkled his nose as he smelled its putrid, rotten-meat breath. But even with its maw inches away from his neck, it didn't attack.

 Nick remembered what David had said: “It wants to hunt…Give it a run for its money.” It was giving him a head start to make this ‘fair’.

 He turned to see a long hall, leading deeper into the mysterious basement. Without a second thought, he dashed down it. About twenty feet in, he heard a grunt from behind him and the sound of metal claws scraping against the floor. The hunt had begun.

 As Nick dashed, not daring to look behind him, he caught glances of the various artifacts in the maze of rooms he dashed through. There were several robots that, rather than being simple skeletal figures for plush-suits or coverings to be affixed to, were made up of thick cables and wires that resembled muscle. There was a table with an uncompleted small endoskeleton with ice blue eyes and a strange iron box on its chest. Nick briefly panicked when he caught a glance of a large, intact bird animatronic with that same blue-white plastic skin as the wolf, but quickly noticed it was powered off and slumped against the wall. Even weirder than the robots were the other odds and ends scattered around. Several different designs of a golden plush sat on a table. A slit down one’s stomach exposed fluffy cotton and an old walkie-talkie nestled within. Blueprints for arcade machines lined the walls, including designs for some sort of large trampoline and an enclosed cylindrical booth. The most unusual thing he noticed as he ran from the snarling beast was a large clear vat filled with a bubblegum-pink goo. Nick didn’t even try to figure out what that could be for; it couldn’t be nearly as bizarre or alarming as a monster replacing his classmates with identical clones.

 The snarling grew louder. Finally Nick dared to peek, and quickly wished he hadn’t. The robot scrambled forward, using its arms to drag itself along. It resembled a mechanical zombie, if that zombie was also a werewolf.

 Nick rounded a corner and desperately scanned the area, looking for more space to run. Unfortunately, that was no longer an option. At the end of the hall the doorway had been boarded up with splintered old slabs of wood.

 Desperate, Nick slammed into the boards. He felt them give a little- they were very old after all- but there just wasn’t enough time to break them all the way. From behind him, he heard a growl and a mechanical noise. He turned to see the wolf was lunging at him, soaring through the air with malicious glee in its eyes.

 Looking back on it, Nick would be amazed. He had never been the most dexterous person, and didn’t have a particularly good reaction time either. Still, somehow, Nick ducked, and barely dodged the wolf’s flailing claws. Its mangled body sailed over in an arc he could almost describe as graceful.

 Then it crashed into the boards.

 The planks shattered, leaving a roughly-wolf shaped hole in the previously blocked doorway. Nick peered through the gap to see the robot, lying still on the ground, shards of wood lodged in its brutalized body.

 It looked pitiful- sad. Nick shook his head as he delicately stepped through the hole, just big enough for him. What was that thought? This thing had killed what had to be dozens of people, many of them kids. It deserved whatever it got. Still, the bizarre feeling of sympathy clung to the edge of his mind, like a parasite.

 Cautiously, Nick navigated around the robot. He kept a close eye on it, which is why he realized its eyes had lit back up.

 Screaming again, he stumbled backwards as the wolf lunged at him again. This time, he wasn’t able to dodge.

 But he didn’t have to. To his relief, the wolf’s leap was cut short. It fell to the ground, held back by the cables attached to the base of its torso, which he could see snaked through the entire route he’d been chased down.

 “Oh yeah…” Nick muttered. “It needs those to survive. It can’t go far without them.”

 The wolf gnashed its teeth and swung its claws, to no avail. Nick was just out of reach. The latter turned, and realized with excitement that there was a metal ladder in this room, leading up to a trapdoor.

 “Probably how that weird inventor David mentioned got in and out of this place.” Right now, he was most interested in the out.

 He began climbing the rusty ladder, but stopped briefly when he heard a sound from below. Looking down, he realized the wolf was whimpering, and pawing at the floor. It looked even sadder than it had before- like a dog who’d been yelled at.

 A wave of regret washed over Nick. How could he have let this happen? Let his-

 Even as the thought formed in his head Nick gasped, horrified. What was going on? He hadn’t been responsible for the wolf’s own mistake, and even if he had, so what? This thing was trying to kill him!

 Trying to ignore the thoughts, Nick pushed up the surprisingly light trapdoor and found himself emerging in the factory’s main assembly line room. The door had been surrounded by some old crates, so Nick wasn’t surprised no one had spotted it before.

 With a resounding THUD, Nick, fully out of the passage, let the door slam shut below him. It must have been soundproof, because the whimpers and snarls from below were completely silenced.

 Nick sighed with relief, only now processing how close he’d come to death. And all because he’d trusted David.

 David…Nick cursed. His ‘friend’ the wolf was probably heading off to tell him he’d escaped. After what Nick had discovered, there was no way David would let him survive to tell the tale. He knew where he lived, they went to the same school- he’d never be safe. Not unless he finished this right now…

 He knew what he had to do.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 “N-no. I didn’t know about that.” David protested.

 David’s friend, from below, snarled its disapproval.

 “Really, really. I had no idea about that ladder. I promise, I’ll find it and destroy it. No one will escape again.”

 This placated David’s friend somewhat, but it growled again.

 “Nick? You’re worried…” David put on a show of confidence. “Forget about it. I’ll make sure he doesn’t squeal.”

 “No, you won’t.”

 David gasped and turned, but couldn’t quite turn fast enough. Nick slammed into him as he was still off his guard, and he stumbled backwards. He tried to stop himself- but it was too late. David’s footfall met with empty air rather than firm concrete, and he tumbled into the pit.

 He managed to land in a position that protected his head, but a grisly CRUNCH indicated this had come at the cost of broken arms. Pain shot up his limbs, and David cried out.

 He tried to get up, to look around, but his eyes only caught one thing- his friend.

 In spite of everything, a smile grew on David’s face. His best friend- the kind, injured wolf who only asked for a few small favors every now and then- lurched towards him. Its eyes displayed anger. It was frustrated. It had had its fill of hunting tonight. It wanted to kill.

 David didn’t even try to run away, only smiling wider as his friend began slashing him, biting him, mutilating him. It hurt like hell, and David knew he was dying…but if you have to go, why not go out with your best friend by your side?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Droplets of blood, flecks of skin, and ripped pieces of clothing flew up from within the pit, as David was torn apart. At least, that’s what Nick assumed. He was too horrified, too guilty to look.

The only thing that made it bearable was that for some reason, there were no screams.

 It’s not like Nick hadn’t expected this when he’d pushed David. And it had to be done. David was a danger to this whole town. Now he was gone, and the wolf would be left to rot in this pit forever- or at least until whatever power system it was hooked up to failed.

 Why did that image in his head feel so wrong? Instead, bleeding through this scene, Nick saw a different one- the wolf, rebuilt to some semblance of its former glory, stalking some unseen figure through the wooded thicket. It felt…strangely beautiful. Like that’s how things were supposed to be.

 Nick clutched his head in his hand. “I…I know what you’re trying to do. Get out of my head!”

 He received no response from below.

 Out of options, Nick fled, running out of the factory and back through the forest, all the while swearing to never come back.

 He did, of course.

 FOUR MONTHS LATER

 Nick stared down into the pit, with an expression that would have been unreadable to anyone who’d seen it. It had been to Zoe, who’d spent her final moments staring up at him in horror and confusion, before the wolf had pounced on her. It was eviscerating her even now, biting the fingers off of her hand and slamming her head into the ground. Playing with its food.

 Not that Zoe or anyone else David or Nick had brought here were being eaten by the wolf. Nick had been pretty sure of that immediately, considering the creature’s animatronic nature, but that would hardly be the weirdest thing about this situation. His questions had been answered, though- by the wolf.

 He didn’t know exactly when he began to understand it, or how. It just sort of…happened. It didn’t exactly speak in words, but Nick could just tell what it wanted or how it felt.

 He had fought it for a few weeks, but eventually gave in and returned. He expected to find an angry monster, trying to lure him into the pit.

 How foolish and unkind a thought! From the moment he’d returned, Nick came to understand the wolf wasn’t a murderer. It was just doing what it had to. Besides, no one was getting seriously hurt. The prey’s end was quick, if not painless, and their loved ones did not need to mourn them.

 Nick had taken David’s place within his friend group. He had barely known him, and was unable to program a Stand-In to take his place. His family had searched and grieved, but the world had moved on. Perhaps the other Stand-Ins knew David was gone, and someone needed to keep the wolf happy. Regardless, Nick- nerdy, quiet, Nick- was now the most popular kid in school. And he liked that.

 You may suspect that as the true reason for his loyalty to the wolf- people will do crazy things for friendship, especially if they’re lonely. And that was sort of true, but Nick’s real friend, his best friend, wasn’t at the school. It was a robotic wolf, missing legs and other odds and ends, which stalked a pit below a factory, snarling for something to hunt. Even that description didn’t seem quite accurate anymore, Nick considered as a smile grew on his face. He could no longer see the blood matting its illusionary fur, or staining its real plastic shell. Its eyes, which glowed with a pale-blue madness, seemed much more full of love and kindness. And he barely even noticed the dozens of broken human bodies which scattered the pit, so insignificant now.

 Yes, the wolf no longer looked like a savage beast. It looked much more like a friend.

[writeronartblock]

Semi-organized post of Fanfic Ideas I have but can't get around to write it

Enstars/Engirls:

Enstars Takt Op AU

Originally just a Leokasa-centric AU oneshot, a series of fics set in the Takt Op universe where some of the characters are Musicarts and exploring the dynamics between them and their Conductors

Potential Storylines: Knights w/ Leokasa, Ex-Valkryie and Ra*bits, Chiakana, Five Eccentrics

"A Starting Symphony"

Part of the Takt Op AU

(Leokasa) Tells of how Tsukasa and Leo initially meets and how the eventually become a Musicart-Conductor duo

"Fleeting Memories"

Part of the Takt Op AU

(Leokasa) Takes place before A Starting Symphony and tells how Tsukasa and Leo actually met, with a bit of world building in place as well

"One Girl's Suffering is Another Boy's Sorrow"

A Protag centric (Anzu and Tenkousei-kun) introspective/character study fic following the events of Paradise (Engirls), taking place before Enstars' Main Story and a little during it

"Slight Changes of Fates"

A-Side: Persona 5 AU, where instead of Yumenosaki, Anzu transfer into Shujin and becomes part of the Phantom Thieves

B-Side: Detailing many of Tenkousei-kun's misadventures of being a Yumenosaki student

"Youth Emergence"

TetoKasa, a normal highschool AU where these two unlikely people become friends and possibly fall in love with each other

Side Story: TetoHiiKasa ver, where Tetora and Tsukasa competes to win Hiiro's affection (while he's nonthewiser about it)

"Meetings of Miscellany"

A Tsukasa-centric oneshot fic collection set in a vague fantasy-medieval AU about the various forming relationships (often romantic) between him and other people

Characters Involved: Mitsuru, Izumi, Tetora, and Hiiro

"To the You in the Field of Fireflies"

(Izukasa) A Hotarubi no Mori e AU, not much more can be said

"My Eternity, For You"

(Izukasa) A fantasy-esque AU in which Tsukasa is an immortal prince living in a tranquil enchanted garden within the rubble of his old kingdom, and Izumi is a butterfly who wishes to be human

Side Story: "Sleeping Prince" just Izumi fondly musing about his dear beloved prince while he's sleeping peacefully

—————

Project Sekai:

A Royal Scandal AU, ft. Tsukasa and Saki as "Chelsea" (is going to be toukasa/toyakasa-centric, sorry)

"The Sun's Come Out to Say Hello"

(Akikasa) Featuring Aged-Up characters, a day in the life of Akito and Tsukasa where they're housemates. With explorations of what their futures could be, likely canon divergent

"Under the Streetlight"

(Akikasa) Based off of Tsukasa's Torpe card and Akito's Anniversary card, a vaguely Victorian(?) era AU

"When Our First Love Ends"

(Toyakasa) Oneshot inspired by the vocaloid song "When the First Love Ends" by ryo (supercell) ft. Miku

A Fantasista Squad origin fic with heavy focus on Touya and Tsukasa from their childhood to current times (tho not necessarily romantic)

"The Mechanical Clown Who Dreams of Love"

(Mafukasa) Inspired by "The Dream That a Girl Doll Had" by HitoYama, Robot Toy!Tsukasa / Toy Maker!Mafuyu

"Fashion Gathering" (working title)

A Ruikasa and Mizuena meet up where they discuss about Wondershows' costumes and other stuff

—————

Genshin Impact:

(Chongyun/Xiao/Hu Tao) A highschool AU in which all three of them are a part of the newly established Occult Research Club and gets into all sorts of shenanigans, courtesy of Hu Tao most of the time

—————

Persona:

A Persona 5 × Kagerou Project Crossover, where Hibiya and Ren are brothers. Hibiya follows Ren to Tokyo during his probation and unkowingly gets involved in more supernatural bullcrap again (alternatively, Ren gets a bigger support group with the Mekakushi Dan)

SEES Member! P4 Protag AU, where Yuu was in Iwatodai for the events of Persona 3 when he was in his 3rd year of middle school. Heavily suggests BanKita/Protagshipping

Side Story: A rewrite of Persona Q with this AU in mind

[jcmarchi]

How to be an astronaut

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/how-to-be-an-astronaut/

How to be an astronaut

The first question a student asked Warren “Woody” Hoburg ’08 during his visit to MIT’s Department of Aeronautics and Astronautics (AeroAstro) this November was: “It seems like there’s no real way to know if being an astronaut is something you could really do. Are there any activities we can try out and see if astronaut-related things are something we might want to do?”

Hoburg’s response: There is no one path to space.

“If you look at all the classes of astronauts, there are all sorts of life paths that lead people to the astronaut corps. Do the things that are fun and exciting — work on things you’re excited to do just because it’s fulfilling in and of itself, not because of where it might lead,” he told a room full of Course 16 students.

Hoburg was the only faculty member among his peers in NASA’s Astronaut Class 22, for example. His own CV includes outdoor sports, computer science and robotics, EMT and search and rescue service, design optimization research, and flying airplanes.

In a two-day visit to the department that included a keynote lecture as well as fireside chats and Q&As with undergraduates and grad students, Hoburg shared his personal journey to becoming an astronaut, lessons and observations from his time aboard the International Space Station, and his excitement for what’s next in space exploration.

Woody Hoburg: From MIT to ISS Video: Department of Aeronautics and Astronautics

From MIT to ISS

For Hoburg, the path that led him first to MIT and eventually to the International Space Station wasn’t straightforward, or focused on a specific goal. From his aerospace studies at MIT, he was torn between going to grad school or getting a job in industry. He decided to pursue computer science in grad school, and from there wasn’t sure if he should stay in academia, join a startup, or join the U.S. Air Force. It was late in grad school when his research started going well that he decided to stick with it, and that decision brought him back to MIT in 2014 as an assistant professor leading a research group in AeroAstro.

He had more or less forgotten his childhood dream of becoming an astronaut. “Not in a bad way,” he clarifies, “just there were other things consuming my time and interest.” But then, a friend suggested they submit applications for the NASA Astronaut Candidate Program. “I remembered that when I was a kid I did think that would just be the coolest job, so I applied. I never thought I’d actually get accepted.”

Performing in an operational environment

Hoburg credits his time at MIT with nurturing a love of adventure and pursuing new ideas and passions. “Everyone here was awesome academically, that was a given. But it seemed like everyone also had a wild unique interest, and I loved that about this community.” As an undergraduate Hoburg remembers rushing through his P-sets so he could go off rock-climbing and skiing for the weekend.

The MIT Alpine Ski team was his first experience on a tight-knit, mission focused team, which has become a core part of his personal and professional ethos. Before starting grad school at the University of California at Berkeley he took a year off to be an EMT, and he spent his summers in California on the Yosemite Search and Rescue team.

“That was my first experience doing what I would call real operational stuff, getting called out on a mission to help someone, working with a high-performing team in an austere environment,” he said. “A lot of the civilians who get selected at NASA have something operational in their background, in addition to their technical expertise. I think search and rescue ultimately helped me with my astronaut application, but I don’t know of anyone who had gone that route before me. It did help me grow into a strong operator — but at the time I just wanted to be out in the mountains responding to emergencies.”

This theme of operational capacity emerged throughout Hoburg’s talks and Q&As. He noted that astronaut candidates tend to be natural team players, and the two-plus years of training prepare them to approach every situation with trust and confidence. A comfort level with versatility is critical for an astronaut: they have to fly and dock the spacecraft, operate and perform maintenance on the ISS itself, perform spacewalks, and of course get home again. All of this is in service of their primary mission aboard the ISS:

“We’re just operators up there,” says Hoburg, “we work on literally hundreds of different experiments, while the PIs are on the ground. The science work is definitely the purpose of why we’re there. That place is busy — we are working 12 hour days a lot of the time.”

Moon, Mars, and beyond

Many of the students’ questions and Hoburg’s responses were practical, perhaps unsurprisingly in a department full of aerospace engineers. His ISS wish list — free-flying robots to help with holding and carrying; robotic cameras to better document their experiments and other pursuits onboard; improved automation and manual control interfaces in launch, flight, and docking; better solutions to the challenges of stowage and organization — may be the very projects that this generation of engineers tackles.

Hoburg also shared some broader insights from his career as an astronaut so far, including his personal reflection on the famously profound experience of looking at the Earth from space:

“Earth actually looks really big from the ISS,” he said, adding that he would love to see it from the far-away perspective of the Apollo 8 lunar mission. “The overpowering feeling for me was looking at the atmosphere. When you do a spacewalk, it’s pretty in your face that you’re in a vacuum. There is just pure death all around you. And when you look at the Earth, you see how it’s protected by this very, very thin layer.”

Hoburg is enthusiastic for NASA’s upcoming return to the moon, and for the growing commercialization of low Earth orbit that’s allowing NASA to focus on “a transition period beyond low Earth orbit.” He’s keen to help with the lunar missions that will help prepare the next generations of spacefarers to get to Mars.

Above all, he’s excited about the possibilities ahead. “Looking back at the 20th century, I think the moon landing was truly one of our crowning achievements. So part of it is purely inspirational, that spirit of adventure and exploration. Putting humans farther out into space is an audacious goal, worth our time and effort.”