#I was thinking 'no wonder Gus was such a good astronaut'

[butmakeitgayblog]

Me coming into your dash as long as my AWTR spidey senses tingled today:

It seems my brain has decided to cut the middle woman out of awtr sadness, because even tho that ask was beautiful it reminded me how much I miss that beautiful silly little thing who didn’t deserve her fate and also made me think about Lexa using her characters as a way to experiment all of the histories and lives she wouldn’t get to live and pouring her all into every performance…I just… 🫠

That was part of what was always so hard for Gus, all through the diagnosis and long after Lexa passed. He'd sit and look at all these pictures of his little girl in school plays and her recitals over the years, and remember just how big she used to dream. She always a serious kid, quiet and thoughtful, that little face always so curious and contemplative as it took in the whole world around her.

It was no wonder she was so damn good as every character she ever played. From a young age she learned to watch people, and really see them. She saw them for their strengths and all of their faults, all the things that made them - them. And through that, she grew so far beyond the confines of her little body. Began having so many so plans for her life. For her own happiness. So many plans for the kind of woman she wanted to be when she free from this town.

She would to tell him all the things she wanted to be when she got older. Would tell him and his wife both how she would change the world when she was an adult, so they better be ready. All the years spent watching her learn and mature and become this whole person beyond what he'd ever imagined, just listening to how her plans would grow with each passing year. "I'm gonna be a astronaut, mommy!" "I am going to be an actor. I love the stage." "I'm going to be a lawyer, dad. I'm serious this time. Just you wait and see."

He did want to see.

He'd always thought these photos would make for such sweet memories for her to look back on; to see all these moments in time when she'd gotten to skim her fingers along the surface of a million lifetimes just to feel them for awhile, before she got to find herself, and build and settle into one of her own.

That's why it's so hard looking at those pictures after she's gone. Because all those brushes with lifetimes told in second and third acts turned out to be as close to a full life as his little girl would ever know...

[surveillance-0011]

I was wondering if you could maybe do some Kenny high on life headcanons if you haven't already

yes ofc! im also gonna take the time to say feel free to send asks + hc requests whenever bc ill most likely get around to it even if it takes me a bit to think of things. just nothing abt the comic yet bc i'm still working on getting my copy :3c

he/him polysexual demiaroace

Big on collecting, had a huge collection of geeky merch back at home and he'd love to build that back up again asap

huge weeb huge nerd duh

Very very glad general space culture is a bit more open to the sort of things he's interested in and very very glad the Bounty Hunter is also a huge nerd

exaggerating a liitle bit of how much space loves anime but he's not far from the truth

Loves Akira and NGE. Also big on Gurren Lagen and Gundam.

Gunpla builder. glad BH, Lizzie and Gus have hands to help with this. Gene DGAF so he don't count

Likes fruit flavored candy a lot. Like anything from hi-chew to juicy drop n peach rings n stuff

More than a little impulsive and impatient. Gets restless easily.

Trusts easy, kinda gullible especially before the events of the game. Easily fell for spectacle/face value assumptions.

Generally just. doesn't read the fine print. not as observant as he could be. should be.

But also very curious very excited to learn and see new things he needs his enrichment. take him to aquarium take him to library take him to museum

Wanted to be an astronaut when he was a kid

Likes those glow in the dark stars that you can stick to walls.

Went to trade school, good with mechanical work.

In a human au he’d wear headphones with lil antenna attached

Chill with knifey if concerned by his perpetual bloodlust. Tried to get him into Chainsaw Man and Akira.

If he ever meets Harper I think things would be more than a little awkward but they would end up getting along really well. Like besties well

BUT she would kick his ass/spray him with the hose on the highest power setting in the back yard first. It's only fair.

I don't say this as "ew icky kenny must suffer" i have the idea in my head that they mutually agree to something like this since harper has repressed so many of her emotions that something weird and cathartic like this would be the only way to work through it and Kenny just decides it's better to get it all over with in this kind of self flagellating manner than deal with someone else being mad at him for years perhaps in a moment of weakness he instantly regrets but it ends up working out.

Maybe he'd feel slighted at first?? Or insecure about it?? But Harper being so buddy buddy would make him slip back into place more and feel more like it's alright in the end.

And also anime buddies. We can make this happen. we don't have to fight. peace and love

that being said...

More below the cut but warning it's all abt the whole G3 thing and uh warnings to mentions of character death, manipulation and mentions/implications of suicidal ideation.

I think Rel was taking advantage of him but it wasn't like. 100% trying to play Kenny like a fiddle. It's just that he definitely cared more about infinite ammo, a mechanic, and quirky commentator for his exploits 3-in-1 than Kenny as an individual and had no qualms about bringing him into his shady, dangerous lifestyle.

Kenny definitely let a lot of information slip to Garmantuous and the G3, under the impression that maybe they would just cooperate with the Gatlians and it would be a mutual helping sort of thing. He didn't know the extent of the G3's crimes or what they would really do to Gatlus.

I think Garm and/or Nipulon mostly pressured/ encouraged him to talk and he figured at worst they’d be pushy or get some folks on Gators into hot water

Escaped from their clutches for a while only to be recaptured. Rel became much crueler to him as a result of the attempted betrayal.

Conflict-averse, when it comes to actual social disputes.

Creature forgave him quickly. Gus and Sweezy had to gradually warm up to him and it would never really be the way it was before.

Kenny felt pretty distressed by this. didn't they know he lost everything too? Couldn't it just. be over now?

I mean. Let's be real here. Yes Kenny was manipulated and his worst crime was mostly just running away and trusting the wrong person. But when that mistake leads to something so big? Ofc it's gonna make people mad. Esp with a vague, rushed confession instead of really being able to speak his peace

And I think not wanting to tell people, only being prompted to in order to tell the story first, and that whole "you mean i didn't even have to tell anyone ermwhat the sigma!!" bit really do seem. pretty selfish. i'll admit it irks me more than just a little.

Granted I'm sure no one's thinking straight when their whole planet's been wiped off the census and I think general survival and trying to keep a stable group came before most else in Kenny's mind. And in general he wanted to get out into the world, really see it, and prove himself only to fuck up more in the end. but it's a principle sort of thing to me.

But I like to think (and definitely want to write/draw a little something about this) that he eventually managed to really talk things out and reach a slightly better middle ground. Because everyone else really suffered for his fuck up and ofc they can't just "oh it's okay" it all away. But at the same time changing the trajectory of the galaxy's politics and wellbeing as a whole, getting entire planets destroyed because of one wrong move would break anybody down.

And I think they were getting somewhere before he. well. vanished off the face of the Earth

I read that reunion with Lez as a sort of reconciliation but I'm not sure if Kenny ever forgave himself for fucking up his friend's life like that.

I think Lezduit is relatively lucid if a bit dazed + confused, just unable to speak verbally. At the very least he's got a general idea of where he is what's goin on etc. And I think he did forgive Kenny but I'm sure if / when he is/was still aware of everything he'd still feel grim about stuff. If he could he'd totally just tell Kenny it would be better to be honest

And I think when Kenny first confessed everything Lez really wanted to tell him he could have been honest about all his doubts. Lezduit never thought he was a fuck up after all.

I'm honestly interested in the idea that maybe the Bounty Hunter didn't drop him, or that that was only half the problem; maybe he let himself fall or wriggled out of holster/grasp during a bout of guilt and doubt to just say fuck it and start over.

Or maybe not to start anything new at all and just. end it. That's dark but after everything maybe during a stressful mission it just all got to him and he freaked out and make that knee-jerk decision.

Though I'm sure he's survived and in my mind he's currently trying his damndest to make his way back to the Bounty Hunter.

i still like my prediction, as contrived as it may be, that Lizzie ends up finding him now that she's off on her own, too, and you end up reuniting with them both.

I mean. they're still using him for promo shit. there's no way he's GONE gone, they're probably just looking for a new VA and making sure the story fits together now.

And he is missed. By Creature definitely, by Gus yes even though he's not quick to admit it, and totally not Sweezy nooo why would you think that nooo why does she get kind of quiet and solemn when she goes to make fun of him and remembers he's not there noooo naur ahaha wtf are you talking about.

Knifey has also been like "Man i miss that blue bugger shame he's probably dead' and freaked everyone else the fuck out for a little bit

Lez doesn't know he's gone but I'm sure if/when the news reaches them it would be a small bout of mild panic (read: Major, major panic covertly expressed as " :O uh oh") but as much as they worry they'd kind of also just be like "eh he'll turn up somewhere". Happened before, and he's sure the Kenny he knows will tough it out. Not necessarily or primarily denial, mind you. I mean a real, genuine faith here. Lezduit knows his friend.

[gusgrissom]

Air and Space Museum!! Seeing the Gemini IV and Friendship 7 capsules was my favorite part, I knew they were small but I didn’t realize just HOW small they were. They had a bunch of great suits on display (Glenn’s, Gagarin’s, Buzz Aldrin’s, David Scott’s, etc) and a neat little exhibit on Sally Ride. In the Apollo exhibit there was a small memorial to the crew of Apollo 1, which was really nice to see. And all the models were SO neat, especially the Apollo-Soyuz display and the Skylab

[bubble-tea-bunny]

where the grass is greener

[sebastian x reader]

author’s note: just a quick thing i wrote over the last couple days, idk where the sudden inspo came from but enjoy <3

word count: 4,532

The twinkling lights of Zuzu City are the stars of some faraway galaxy, and Sebastian wishes he were an astronaut.

He’s yearning for the great beyond, and that’s the natural course of things, isn’t it? To look past the edges of the world within reach, and hope to one day explore the unknown, a search for life, for the future, for a place to call home. The rolling hills of the valley never seem more restrictive or suffocating than when he stands here, high on a cliff, elevated enough to view the bustling city. For a while now he has felt an urge deep in his gut to go there and experience a life so different from his own as it is currently, with the noise and the vastness. The mountains are walls keeping him contained and in the hours that bleed into days that bleed into weeks, he resolves that he’ll break past them when he’s older, and he’ll set course for his goal, for those glittering skyscrapers. What should he name his space shuttle?

Winters in Pelican Town are a special kind of cold, colder than normal due to the basin-like structure with the mountains on either side. The cold crawls in, settling at ground level, and the heat rises and seeps out. Pelican Town, sitting right in the middle, is forced to deal with the remaining chill.  

This morning, the tip of Sebastian’s nose is flushed red from the harsh winter wind. His preference for not wearing scarves leaves him with nothing with which to shield the sensitive skin of his face. It may reasonably be believed, then, that this is cause to hasten his trek to the town center, but his decision to take the long way into town serves evidence to the contrary.

An old man had once owned the large farm to the west, but since his passing, the weeds have festered, and the few buildings on the property are in various states of disrepair. Sebastian walks by on occasion, observing the debris and decay. In winter, the weeds have rotted away and left the wide field barren save for rocks and stray logs. But by spring, they’d be back, and perhaps the new bursts of color from the trees still standing there will lessen the eyesore the steading has become.

Some nights Sebastian comes here to sit with himself and think because he knows he won’t be disturbed. No one comes this way anymore. He likes to sit on the edge of the porch and observe the expanse before him. The small house behind him has darkened windows, once illuminated with a soft yellow glow in the late hours. If Sebastian were to pull open the door (which would require some tools, given that it’s been boarded up, though acquiring them wouldn’t be an issue given his mom’s profession) and glance inside, there would only be cobwebs and silence.

The ponds on the property are frozen and snow clings to dead tree branches and Sebastian can see it all even without the aid of lights, for there are hardly any in this tiny town. Instead, the moon is the main source, a gentle white glow washing over the farm. Sebastian takes a long drag from his cigarette and exhales steadily. The cloud of smoke looks like a puff of air similarly breathed out in cold weather like this, except without the numbness he loves to find in the stick between his fingers. His brows furrow and he glances down, flicking off the ash. It lands on his jeans. Is he just tired all the time, or has he been carrying a pack of sleeping aids in his pocket?

Tired of this place… Sebastian huffs, is faintly amused, is exhausted.

Spring arrives and with it, another year bundled together with another bout of wishful thinking. Sam’s sitting by his desk, one leg crossed over the other and strumming lazily at his guitar. Sebastian sprawls out on the bed, staring at the ceiling and focusing on the sensation of the blood rushing to his head. They’ve been looking into securing a small gig in the city, nothing too big, but something to get their name out there. It stirs Sebastian’s thoughts of moving to Zuzu City permanently, and he loses himself in them as Sam experiments with riffs for the opening of their newest song.

A wrong note is plucked and Sam curses under his breath, then with a heavy sigh he sits up straight to stretch out his spine. During this momentary break, he seems to remember something, for once he relaxes, he grabs Sebastian’s attention.

“Hey, did you hear?”

Sebastian hums and he isn’t certain whether it’s meant to be a hum of question (Hear what?) or of half-hearted approval (That progression sounded good). Perhaps it’s neither, merely a signal to show he’s actually awake, listening for whatever Sam has to say.

“Someone’s moving onto the farm this week.”

Upon this revelation, Sebastian feels a mild irritation. He’d enjoyed having time to himself on that property. It offered an isolation he couldn’t get anywhere else in town, since he was basically the only person to bother passing through. The only ones to know about his late night visits to the abandoned farmstead are Sam and Abigail, but they don’t interrupt him when he’s there, understanding his need for space. Now, however, Sebastian would have to return to the train tracks.

“So the old man did have relatives after all,” he comments quietly.

The reason nothing had been done to the property is that no one in Pelican Town had the authority. After the previous owner’s death, the land had come into the possession of his family. The news had been passed along to said family a while ago, but there wasn’t a response, nor did anyone even come to appraise the farm with the intention of selling it. So there it remained, untouched for months, long enough that some grew skeptical that anyone would ever come to reclaim it.

Sam chuckles. “Guess so. But you have to wonder why now.”

“Yeah…”

If Zuzu City is a galaxy, you’re an asteroid drifting away from that system into the vacuum of space, floating aimlessly until you’re pulled into the orbit of another. And perhaps it is your aspirations and dreams of what you hope to find in this sleepy town that reside within the shooting star Sebastian sees pass overhead a few nights later, outshining the rest who hang in place.

Though if Sebastian’s honest, he has no idea what dreams might involve the valley and the town. It might be a great place for tourists to visit, sure, to bask in the quiet and the freshness, a temporary change of pace from the city. But for him, the quiet is too overbearing to stay here, and he wants to get away. He’d like to switch places with you. You, for some reason, have growing interest in the country life, and he has always had vested interest in the city life. A fair trade, right?

You’ve got quite the fixer-upper to take care of, that’s for certain. However, the sheer amount of work it will require to get the farmstead in an acceptable state doesn’t appear to deter you. You make many trips into town to buy supplies, and Sebastian has seen you when you stopped by his mom’s shop, the two of you working out blueprints for adding a new water well here or a chicken coop there.

The first time he spotted you had been in passing as he ascended the stairs from his room with the plan to get lunch from the kitchen (his first meal of the day). He heard the front door open and close and his mom’s friendly greeting, and he turned to see you walk right up to the counter she stood behind.

You didn’t look like someone from the city. He wouldn’t have guessed that you were if he hadn’t been told previously by Sam, who’d heard it from his mom, who’d heard it from Pierre. You wore a yellow t-shirt beneath light blue overalls (scuffs and dirt marks already marred the denim), the bottoms of which were rolled up neatly, and a pair of dirtied work boots. A red backpack sat on your shoulders and you had your hair pulled back into a messy ponytail.

He briefly listened to your conversation, and you sounded bubbly, excited as you shared your ideas for repairing the farm. And he still might not understand why you had the dreams you did of leaving the city and coming to Stardew Valley, but they’re yours, and you’re making them real, and he’d never fault anyone for that.

Day by day, new life is breathed into the steading you’ve come to call your own. The rocks and logs have been cleared out and you’ve set aside a small section to grow crops. There’s a fenced off area designated to be the site of a new chicken coop, with work beginning tomorrow. You even have a dog now, a stray Marnie came across and brought to your doorstep. Her name’s Daisy. She follows you into town sometimes.

Sebastian sees you often but hasn’t talked to you, other than a curt hello during your first meeting. The short of it is that he doesn’t have much interest in being your friend. He likes his small friend group, and when he isn’t hanging out with them, he’s perfectly content to be alone in his room. Maru brings up over dinner how nice you are, having stopped by the clinic earlier to drop off a basket of strawberries. Then she turns to him and mentions how he really should talk to you because You’ll like her, she’s sweet! But instead of convincing him, it does the opposite and only continues to dissuade him, and he merely sighs, shrugging noncommittally.

Sam and Abigail have taken a liking to you too. They wave you over on a Friday night at the saloon, and you join them in the game room. You excuse yourself from a conversation with Gus and walk over, but once you see Sebastian, you slow down, standing by the doorway. Grinning politely, you lift a hand to wave and give a quiet hello. Evidently you’ve been able to sense Sebastian’s disinterest in you, having kept a similar distance as he at any other time. But tonight, given Sam and Abigail’s invitation, such a distance would be impossible to maintain.

The two of them tell you to relax, and Abigail assures with a laugh Don’t worry, Sebastian doesn’t bite! and you chuckle good-naturedly but Sebastian can surmise you are nervous. For Sam and Abigail’s sakes, he will be a good sport and be friendly. He’s not so childish as to carry on as if you aren’t there. So with a smile, he grabs another pool stick for you.

“We can reset the game,” he informs you as you gently take the stick. “Sam was getting his ass kicked; I was expecting him to ask for a do-over soon anyway.”

“Wha—I was not!”

After that, Sebastian is considerably less averse to speaking with you if you happen to run into each other. He’s still curt, and never tries to carry on a conversation longer than the basic hello’s and how-are-you’s. You don’t push or pry either, to get him to open up, and he appreciates that. You understand he likes his space, and you let him have it.

Ultimately, it’s Sam who encourages him to get to know you better, and he won’t take no for an answer. She’s got plenty of stories to tell about the city, he remarks. I’m sure she’d be happy to share them if you asked.

Sebastian begrudgingly agrees to have an actual conversation with you the next time he’s able to, and he already knows he can’t lie and pretend that he has because you’re friends with Sam, and Sam will inevitably ask if you and he have talked lately. Though ironically, after this, Sebastian doesn’t see you a lot. The end of the season has you scrambling to harvest and ship the remaining crops, and your farm has grown quickly since you’ve been here, which means you’re out in the field most days.

It isn’t until the final day of summer that Sebastian gets the chance. The appearance of the moonlight jellies has everyone out on the beach this evening. Multiple lanterns have been placed on the water to provide better illumination, both for the purpose of viewing the jellyfish and to ensure no one accidentally slips off the edge of the docks. You’re one of the last to arrive, looking tired but satisfied as you speak with Elliott. You make your rounds saying hi and sheepishly brushing off comments on your diligence in preparing the farm for the next season.

Conversations die down to quiet murmurs as the ethereal glow of the jellyfish illuminates the water. Sebastian notices you in his peripherals coming to a stop a few feet away, sitting down and letting your feet dangle over the edge. He hesitates momentarily, but takes a deep breath, resolving himself to just do it, and, sticking his hands in his pockets, he walks towards you.

His boots thud quietly on the wood but if you notice, you don’t react. Not until he talks.

“No Daisy tonight?”

You blink and glance up to see him standing next to you, at a far enough distance that you don’t need to crane your head back painfully to meet his eyes. At his question, you smile lopsidedly and shake your head.

“No, she was too tired to come. She’s been working hard all day.” Usually Daisy accompanies you to the beach, running up and down the shore while you get comfortable on the docks, fishing rod and bag of bait in hand.

Sebastian smiles too, then points at the space to your left. “Mind if I join you?”

“Oh, of course!” You scoot over slightly as Sebastian sits down. The jellyfish are closer now.

“I was thinking of bringing her tomorrow,” you continue the original topic regarding your dog. “To take in that crisp fall air.” The humidity of summer had been fading this past week, leaving in its wake a colder, fresher breeze.

“I bet she’d really like that.” Sebastian might not have much to say, but what he does, he finds himself saying with ease. Perhaps it’s due to to the relief of tension now that he’s finally talked to you past a few courteous remarks, that he’s no longer anticipating the moment because it has already come to pass. And suddenly the prospect of talking to you more doesn’t seem so bad, despite his initial reservations.

“I hope so,” you respond quietly. You flash him a quick smile, then you both turn your attention on the ocean.

The approaching jellyfish are soundless, and with everyone silent, all that can be heard is the gentle lapping of the waves on the support beams of the docks. Spots of light move beneath the surface, the blurry forms of moonlight jellies venturing closer. They pass beneath your dangling feet and the lanterns on the water are poor competition for these creatures.

Sebastian feels you tap on his shoulder a couple of times to grab his attention, and he glances at you. But you draw his attention back to the jellyfish, pointing at one in the distance. Whereas most of the jellies are blue, as is their natural coloring, you’ve spotted a lone green jellyfish. Sebastian smiles and whispers you have a good eye. He’s not sure if anyone else has noticed, but he doesn’t bother to speak up, the silence so full of awe and wonder that he doesn’t want to break it.

The jellyfish congregate near the docks, as if to say goodbye, then slowly they drift back out to sea, and maybe the galaxy called Pelican Town has its own twinkling lights right here.

Green leaves fade to brown in the following days. They detach from the branches and float to the ground, and they’re the satisfying crunch beneath Sebastian’s shoes. The temperature has dropped quickly, and many townsfolk are bundling up to fend off the impending winter chill. The Stardew Valley fair comes and goes, and Sebastian doesn’t understand quite how to appraise the grange displays, but from the passing comments he overhears from Lewis, you put up an impressive arrangement for your first year. However, you don’t win, coming second to Pierre (it was close though).

Sebastian waits to the side as all the participants are given ribbons. You saunter over to him afterward, red ribbon in hand, and Sebastian pulls out his hands from the pocket of his hoodies to clap a few times. You smile shyly and rub the back of your neck, muttering a thanks.

“Hey, not bad for your first go of it,” he commends.

You shrug as you glance down at the ribbon. “I’ll win next year,” you resolve, and he doesn’t doubt it one bit.

The next event on everyone’s minds the second the sun sets on the valley fair is that of Spirit’s Eve. Sam, in particular, has begun to brainstorm costume ideas, first only for himself until he proposes a group costume—for him, Abigail, Sebastian, and you. He starts rattling off movies and games from which to draw inspiration, and Sebastian guesses he was meant to give his approval (or disapproval) for each idea, but Sam is listing them so quickly, excited as he is, that Sebastian hardly gets the opportunity to speak up. But he’s fine with simply listening.

“We really should have a costume contest,” Sam murmurs, voice low in a way that Sebastian isn’t sure if he’s talking to himself. “I wonder if I could ask the mayor to have one this year…”

Sebastian chuckles before he sits up and stands from Sam’s bed. He stretches his arms above his head and glances out the window: it’s completely dark out. The daylight is minimal this time of year, so this fact isn’t satisfactory evidence for the time of night. Rather, it’s the glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand that alerts Sebastian that it’s time to leave, for it’s growing late.

“I think I’m gonna head out,” he announces once Sam’s rambling has quieted down.

Sam nods and stands up as well to walk Sebastian to the front door, but pauses with his hand on the doorknob of his room as he twists around.

“You wouldn’t be taking the long way to your house, would you?”

Sebastian tilts his head. Walking past the farm? He hasn’t done that since you moved in. “I wasn’t planning to. Why?”

“Well it’s just my mom patched up one of [Name]’s shirts and asked if I could give it to her when I see her, but I figure if you’re going to pass by tonight…”

Sebastian nods. “Sure.”

With a smile, Sam picks up a folded long-sleeve from his desk and hands it to Sebastian. “Thanks, man.”

It feels strange to make his way towards the bus stop instead of the park on his way back. He hadn’t taken this route for almost a year, having never been one of the people to pay a visit to your farm. He’s not sure why he never did. Perhaps he didn’t want to be a bother. You’d always given him his space, and he figured it would only be right for him to do the same in return. Though unlike him, you never shy away from visitors, always glad to greet whoever comes over for a quick chat. So perhaps you won’t mind. Hopefully. The last thing he wants is to be in your way.

He’s unsure if you’ll even be awake at this time because you work a lot, and it leaves you exhausted. You don’t tend to stay up late. But as he approaches your farm, he not only spots the light shining through the windows, he sees you sitting on the edge of the porch, right where he has sat so many times prior.

He calls out your name to grab your attention and you look over, smiling when you see him.

“What’s up?" you ask as he comes closer, and your smile widens when he holds out your shirt. “Oh, Jodi’s fixed it! That was fast… I’ll have to bake her a cake to say thanks.” Then you turn to Sebastian and thank him for dropping it off.

But he’s not in a rush to leave, and he inquires what it is you’re doing staying out here so late. You shrug. Just basking in the quiet I guess… and taking it all in. You motion to the field, and Sebastian understands why you’re content to sit and observe the fruits of your labor. He hardly recognizes the expanse, so different from the way it was just a year ago. You’ve poured your love into it and it shows.

“You deserve to be proud of it.”

You smile and the lack of lights conceals the reddening of your cheeks at the compliment. Momentarily your eyes are downcast at the ground, but then they slide back up to observe Sebastian standing there. You take the thermos next to you and hold it out.

“Hot chocolate. Want some?”

He glances at the thermos but shakes his head no thanks, and you retract your hand. The nights are increasingly colder as winter nears, and even if he’s wearing a hoodie and jeans, you’re certain that he’s feeling the brunt of the weather. You speak up again.

“Okay. But it is cold and, well…” You grab the edge of the large, fluffy blanket around your shoulders and stretch out your arm to extend it. “There’s room for two.”

Sebastian catches on to your efforts to ensure he doesn’t freeze, and while he isn’t bothered to stand in the chill for a few minutes, he appreciates your gestures and agrees to this one, closing the gap between you in a several short steps and settling down on the porch. You drop the blanket around his shoulders as well, and both of you look out on the farmstead. In place of weeds and stray rocks are crops and pastures for the animals you’ve started raising. You’ve mentioned before they can be a handful given how many there are when there’s just one of you, but you’re happy to have them. And Daisy helps with the herding at the end of the day, so it could be worse!

The silence is comfortable, but Sebastian finally breaks it.

“Why’d you leave?”

You glance at him, confused as to what he’s referring to. He elaborates.

“The city.” He turns his eyes from the field to you. “What made you want to come to the valley? I mean… it’s so quiet, too quiet sometimes. I’ve always wanted to move to Zuzu City. I want to get away from here. But you did the exact opposite.”

This is the most he has ever opened up to you, and it surprises him how easily it slips out. But it’s too late to take back the words now, as they hang in the air between you, and his breath catches in his throat because, frankly, he’s embarrassed. He’s never this quick to share his feelings, his thoughts, his one wish to leave this sleepy town and not look back. And he’s worried what you’ll say, what you’ll think, of the candidness springing up from nowhere.

You don’t respond immediately, which fuels his concerns even more, but he realizes it’s the time spent putting your own words together carefully, as you smile gently, a reassurance that it’s okay to talk about these things. You’ll listen to whatever he has to say, and you’ll still be there even if he says nothing.

With a deep sigh, you face forward again to survey the farm. And you explain to Sebastian that you’d been in the city your whole life. Before your grandfather passed away, he left you a letter with explicit instructions only to open it when you grew tired of the hustle and bustle, of the fast pace of the city and the same thing day-in, day-out at your corporate job. I thought I could handle it, you muse, but I just cracked one day. One boring day… I can’t even remember if it was a Wednesday or a Friday because they all felt the same. You chuckle dryly.

Sebastian is watching you closely, patiently waiting for you to continue. You’ve followed his lead and opened up, and he has found himself intensely curious to discover more about you.

You take another deep breath, acutely aware of the crisp air that floods your lungs. “In the letter, he called the valley the place where he truly belonged. And I thought maybe it would be the same for me.” You stay quiet after this for several moments, both of you contemplating what you’ve said, but then you perk up and look at him. “Of course, if you want to go to Zuzu City, if you truly feel you’ll thrive there, then go. I’m not trying to dissuade you.”

It’s Sebastian’s turn to give you a smile of reassurance. He has taken no offense to the story you shared. He understands where you come from. People are different, have different desires and goals. But he’s not ready to turn the conversation on himself, still wanting to focus on you, if only for a minute or three longer.

“Is it the same for you?” he inquires quietly. “Do you feel this is where you truly belong?”

It’s a reasonable follow-up to your story, yet it still gives you pause and you mull it over. Even before you speak, Sebastian can already see the answer in the softening features of your face, as you stare at the field you have worked so hard to turn into something worthwhile. He’s not sure what you’re thinking, but he’d like to have penny for your thoughts because your eyes slide towards him now, and they are fond and your smile is soft and he wonders if it means anything.

“Yes,” you state finally. “I think it is.”

You watch each other, and the corner of Sebastian’s lips lifts in a small smile, unable to be contained after witnessing yours. His chest tightens and he wonders if all this—the town and the valley and him and you—if maybe it means everything. Because the air seems fresher and the moon seems brighter and he finds he doesn’t want to lift off in his space shuttle if it takes him farther away from you. So maybe he’ll stay on the ground just a little longer.

He drops his gaze to the thermos you hold. “I’ll take some of that hot chocolate if you’re still offering.”

You laugh and nod, twisting off the lid. “Yeah, here, hold on…”

The autumn evening is beautiful, and for once, the valley feels like home.

[itsclydebitches]

Uh, from personal experience after working in a desert, if he was wearing spandex I'd recommend everyone else NOT stand downwind lol. See it's the little details that distract continuously from the bigger plot points that also make very little sense. If a character's wearing spandex in the desert that's just one small thing that tells me no one cared at all about this book.

LOL yeeeeah. 

Like anything I think it’s a balancing act. For example, years ago I was reading Neil deGrasse Tyson’s complaints about Sci-Fi movies and I remember thinking, “Yeah, but if they adhered to reality then there wouldn’t be a movie.” In the sense that if you followed the real rules of science then we’ve lose the central conflict of the film (sorry I’ve forgotten the actual movie, this was ages ago) because it’s the very act of putting reality aside and asking, “What if?” that leads to a fun story. 

Then you have moments where adhering to reality can create a good story. It allows for new conflicts to emerge. You could just shrug and say “Whatever” when you realize your astronaut is floating in space, but if you decide to research how much air they have then your character now has a time limit for reaching safety. You’ve created stakes. Then the author decides which is more important: do I want the intensity of knowing they only have X number of minutes, or do I want to fudge reality and give them double the amount to ensure that there’s enough time for everything else I want to write? If you decide on the latter, a good author will come up with an explanation. “It’s 100 years in the future and spacesuits are way more efficient now.” 

But then you have details that, yeah, just make you wonder how much effort the author bothered to put into the story, both in terms of research and thought. That detail didn’t bother me because I didn’t catch it, but for everyone who did? It may take them out of the story. There is no spacesuit equivalent explanation of, “Gus wears the Atlas spandex that are created with super special cooling fibers” or whatever, something that changes our understanding of “spandex” in this world. You’re just left wondering whether the author bothered to stop and think about this choice. 

I get that feeling all the time in RWBY. There’s so much that gives the sense that if the authors had just thought about it for a hot second, they’d realize why that choice doesn’t work well. It’s obvious enough to the viewers - enough viewers - that you wonder how much editing has gone into the show if this number of “Huh?” moments still exist. You’ll always have some - in the same way you’ll almost always have typos - but the number RWBY sports and, as you say, its connection to large plot issues? That’s a problem. 

[melmac78]

Sentence starters: The Day John failed Space History 101

(This is third in a series of sentence starters. Dedicated to @lenle-g for the sentence (bold) and who’s involved. Note, this story dates before the TB5 events leading to and including “EOS”)

888888

“Is that blood?” inquired Gordon as he looked closely at the hologram in front of him. Gordon and Alan were in the lounge, having played a series of “Stingray” episodes.

When John’s image popped up, his dazed expression concerned them. There also seemed to be a small darker tone to a patch of hair on the left side of his forehead.

“Is that blood?” repeated the aquanaut.

“No...?” said John, slightly confused running a hand through his hair, then looked at it. “It’s just some spaghetti sauce. Had trouble with the water pressure again rehydrating it.”

Alan furrowed his brow when he saw John smear it more in his head, then make a face. “That’s an awful lot of ‘spaghetti sauce’ for vacuum sealed food bro,” gently teased the astronaut. “You sure you’re ok?”

John glowered. “I’m fine Alan. It was an accident with the food system,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly as though in pain. “You’re getting bad as Deke Slayton complaining about the food while he was flying on the Aurora Mission.”

Alan’s ears perked up. “John... what did you say?” he said.

John repeated what he said, making Alan frown more.

He had to be sure of his suspicions. “Right, then he helped fly the Gemini capsule that landed on the moon, right next to the Apollo moon rover driven by Gus Grissom?” He asked.

John nodded.

“Uh huh...” Alan turned an alarm to gather his brothers.

John winced. “Hey, quit that noise! How can I go on a spacewalk in a half hour to see them...”

Virgil and Scott however ran into the living room. “What’s wrong?” queried Scott.

“John’s hurt...I think maybe badly,” said Alan, who turned toward his fellow astronaut. “He’s acting weird.”

Virgil frowned and did a medi-scan of the middle brother. He muttered something to Scott, who ran over to their father’s desk and pressed some buttons.

John gritted his teeth. “No I’m not...” he started, but then realized he was starting to feel odd, a bit light...

Virgil meanwhile frowned and grabbed Alan. Before the youngest could protest at the abrupt manhandling, they were seated in the chairs to go to Thunderbird Three.

The last sight he saw as the platform lowered was his fellow astronaut’s eyes roll back before he went limp.

“John!” exclaimed Alan, who then felt Virgil put a steadying hand on his shoulder, briefing him on the issue.

At that moment, he was thankful Virgil was able to explain what had happened.

He wasn’t sure he’d been able to do this rescue alone.

888888

Some time later, John groaned softly as he recovered consciousness.

Admittedly he wished he hadn’t: the heavy weight of gravity pressed hard on his body.

Then there was his head, which felt as though a mastodon was dancing the soft shoe on his head.

A gentle rustle near his head made him open his eyes and, finding he was in the medbay, turned. “Hey Alan,” he said to the blonde sitting next to him., holding his hand.

Alan smiled. “Hey John... welcome back,” he said, hugging him before hitting his brother gently on the shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?” said the red head, rubbing the injured spot.

“For being a knucklehead,” said Gordon who walked over to the bed with the eldest two brothers.

The astronaut chose not to respond to the bait and continued. “Why am I in the medbay,” asked John.

Seeing the quirked eyebrow, Virgil decided to help the confused astronaut. “What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked.

John frowned. “Going to eat lunch - spaghetti or shrimp cocktail I think - in Five’s kitchen. Think the water pressure was high,” he said, confused. “What would that have to do with me being in here?”

Virgil smiled. “Well, that wonderful ... metal... food dispenser itself actually exploded and gave you a good concussion,” he said, then started to tick off points with his fingers. “Plus a bright assortment of bruises, a cracked tooth, fractured wrist...”

“But at least you had enough sense in that thick skull to call us,” teased Gordon, though happy his brother was OK.

John admittedly was happy to have a “thick skull” too, but frowned. “Right, so I was bleeding, but I seem to think I insisted it was spaghetti sauce when the package exploded...”

Gordon smiled. “Yep, you said that, and Alan realized you were not well,” he said, clapping a hand in the teen’s shoulder.

“How? Alan’s had the machine rehydrate food wrong, the pack rupture and coat him in sauce, but he was uninjured,” said John, feeling an odd mix of curious and proud.

Alan smiled sheepishly, running a hand though his hair. “Not that: You failed Space History 101 bro,” he said.

“I ... what!?”

“Yeah, you said Deke Slayton flew in space on the Aurora mission...”

John frowned. “That’s wrong: Slayton was grounded due to heart issues and Scott Carpenter actually flew Aurora 7,” he said, confused he’d make an error such as that.

Alan nodded. “Then the kicker: not correcting me saying Gemini landed on the moon... next to Grissom’s moon rover.”

Gordon chuckled. “Even more when you didn’t even correct Alan on how he said Gemini wrong,” he said.

“I did not,” protested Alan, as though it restarted an argument. “It’s gem-en-eye. Like the Greek.”

“No, Jeh-mih-nee, like Knee,” said the aquanaut. “Grissom said it wrong, and NASA just made it the official pronunciation.”

John blushed faintly as he put a hand up to stop the argument. “Sorry Alan, but Gordon is right here... if only because I drilled it in his head,” he said, chortling when Gordon pretended to be miffed.

Besides, even he knew Gordon liked studying the history of his namesake.

Virgil just smiled, choosing to not correct the brother on a sadder part of NASA history and his namesake. “Regardless, the important thing is Alan knew it was wrong, alerted us and we went up,” he said. “You passed out shortly before we launched, but we got you back and fixed up your injuries.”

John faintly chuckled. “I do seem to remember coming to briefly and hearing a clucking sound ...” he said, grinning at Scott.

“Hey - mother henning has some benefits,” said the eldest, glaring slightly. Seeing his brother laugh though, even he couldn’t hide his merriment.

He then straightened up John’s covers. “Now, let’s give John a break and we all rest,” said Scott.

The others nodded, and after all but Virgil left, who’d be checking on him the rest of the night, John simply followed his eldest brother’s orders.

The next day, John awoke to find a well worn book on the Mercury Seven by his bed.

Opening it, he found a note inside. “Here’s a refresher on who actually was an aquanaut in the Mercury Seven: not Gordon’s namesake...”*

John chuckled “Only you Alan,” he said, cracking open the book. He knew though this was more than a joke or casual reading or even to ear a school medal on space history.

Space history this time was a lifesaver.

“Thanks Alan,” he said softly, flipping through the pages.

888888

*(For those wondering, the answer here is Scott Carpenter)

[gusgrissom]

Hello! I found your blog through my love for Eddie & was wondering if you wanted to be friends? 🥺🤍 I've always been interested in astronauts & space travel but only started taking it seriously this month! I love anything to do with Ed, Gus, and Roger, who are my most favourote & I love that other people love them as much as I do! I'm thinking about starting a YouTube channel about them soon :) I hope you have a good day & thank you for your amazing gifs & posts ♡♡♡

Hi, it’s nice to meet you and of course! Welcome to our little space community, we’re always happy to see more people who love the astros and spaceflight. Thank you for the kind words! :)

Be sure to let me know if you do start a youtube channel about them, I’d love to check it out!

[gusgrissom]

Some of my favorite photos (and smiles) and a few personal thoughts on the birthday boy ❤️

Gus Grissom would’ve been 92 years old today. 92 years ago this morning he came into this world, and one evening just over 51 years ago he left it. The importance and heroic sacrifice of that evening cannot be understated, but unfortunately it often overshadows the happier times. Today on his birthday I think we should focus on his life, those 14,908 days between April 3rd, 1926 and January 27, 1967, and the remarkable man the boy from Mitchell became.

Gus was a lot of things. First he was a son, the eldest surviving child of a railroad worker and a homemaker in Mitchell, Indiana. Then he was a brother. A Boy Scout, a newspaper delivery boy, a kid too small for any of the high school sports’ teams so instead he pursued a growing interest in aviation. Before he was out of his teens, he was a husband and a USAAF aviation cadet. Then came college on the G.I. Bill, flipping burgers to bay the bills, a degree in mechanical engineering, re-enlisting in the Air Force, pilot’s wings and an officer’s commission, and two baby boys. After 100 successful combat missions in Korea, a Distinguished Flying Cross and Air Medal with oak leaf cluster, a second degree (in aeromechanics), and three years as a flight instructor, Gus got his dream job as a test pilot, flying fighter jets for the Air Force.

Then came NASA, looking for the best of the best, and they found him. Gus was outstanding even among a group like the Mercury Seven. His professionalism, his quiet pride, his wry sense of humor, his dirty mouth… In his nine short years with the space program, he became the astronaut’s astronaut. The second American in space (third human), the driving force behind the Gemini program, the first human in history to fly in space twice, the first American to command a two-man crew, the first to be given assignments in all three of NASA’s first manned programs, projected to be the first man on the moon. In 1967, his ultimate sacrifice, alongside Ed and Roger, giving their lives so that others wouldn’t have to, had an immeasurable impact on the Apollo program and continues to save lives in space exploration today. His legacy, both in the way he lived and the way he died, has influenced thousands of lives for the past fifty years. Gus Grissom was a lot of things, but above all he was, and continues to be, loved and admired.

Without a doubt, Gus is the most inspirational and important person in my life. It’s not easy to explain, to put into words how much he really means to me. As everyone who follows or has ever spoken to me knows, I sure try, but it never feels adequate. It was just over a year ago that he came into my life (though it seems like I’ve known him much longer than that), and he’s the reason I’m still alive, in every sense of the word. This past year has been rough on me, sometimes very rough, and every day Gus has been my reason for holding on (sometimes my only reason). He’s been the one constant in my life, an example of perseverance in the face of failure and fear (“You’re scared, but you learn to take care of yourself.”), a motivator, a reason to laugh (”Helmets and gloves?”), and an endless source of unconditional love and warmth and support (“It’s good for you.”). I’ve had the honor of visiting him six times at Arlington National Cemetery, but no matter where I am I know he’s there, too.

Some days it’s a real sonofabitch, caring about someone this much when there’s so much pain involved in their lives and dreams and legacy, but as I’ve told Gus before, there’s no one I would rather hurt for. He’s taught me so much and given me so much. I miss him. I’m proud of him and I try to make him proud. I love him infinitely. Grateful doesn’t begin to describe it. I owe my life to him. Every day I thank G-d for giving us such a wonderful, funny, hardworking, goofy, handsome, gentle, brave, proud, intelligent, ridiculous, dedicated, clever, sweet, beautiful, lovely man, 92 years ago today. I love him, I love his big nose and his dark hair turning gray at the temples and the freckle on his right cheek and his hazel eyes, the same exact color as mine. I love the way he wore his watch upside down and insisted on wearing clashing patterns every chance he got and how he could fall asleep while flying a fighter jet at 35,000 feet. I love how he was overly-fond of using the middle finger and was always a bad influence on his dark-haired Navy rookies and said ‘goddamn’ so goddamn much. That soft, deep voice, his breathy laugh, the way he pronounces ‘Mercury,’ how he was always jumping to end a press conference as soon as possible, his unconquerable desire to go faster, higher, better. He would deny it, but I love his poet’s soul. His good heart. I love the birthmark on his left knee and his stupid hairy body and his shining eyes and that big, beautiful smile, the way he scrunches up his nose when he laughs, really laughs. I hope I make him proud, help keep his spirit alive. I love him, forever and always.

Happy birthday to the astronaut’s astronaut, the pilot, the fuckin’ A, the self-proclaimed good luck guy, my best friend, our Gus. Party hard, bubba ❤️

[gusgrissom]

I hate hate hate when (usually in real life) I try to share something positive about Gus/Apollo 1 or the crew members of STS-51-L and STS-107 or other fallen astronauts/cosmonauts, and people feel the need to bring up the accidents. Like of course I know what happened, I think about it every single day, I’m just trying to show you that they had awesome, inspiring lives before that, too! They’re more than just their deaths.

I guess that’s kind of the go-to event most people associate them with, and a way to relate to the subject when they don’t know much else about it/them, but it’s still always upsetting. And most people don’t realize just how awfully upsetting it is sometimes. To them, they’re just talking about that really Tragic and Important Historical Event; to me (and probably a lot of us) I’m reminded of losing people who really mean a lot to me and how I’ve heard my boys die. Sometimes I can’t get those sounds out of my head for days, and then on the days I can and I’m trying to focus on the good lives they lived, someone inevitably reminds me of it again.

Idk I’m just tired of always thinking about it. Some days I wish I could just think about those wild, wonderful 14,908 days of Gus’ life on Earth rather than the last 18 seconds.

[gusgrissom]

(Last birthday post, I promise!) A few of my favorite photos and (more than a few) personal words about the birthday boy 🎂

I was fortunate enough to get the chance to visit Gus at Arlington a few weeks ago and tell him in person how much he means to me, and even then it wasn’t easy to put my appreciation into words. But pilots never get tired of being told how great they are, so let’s give it another go!

Gus Grissom would’ve turned 91 today. Too much of the time, his life is remembered for how it ended, at almost 41. The sacrifice of Apollo 1 should not be forgotten, but he should be remembered for a hell of a lot more than that, too, especially on his birthday. He was the boy who fell in love at first sight and never had any doubts. The young man yearning for the chance to serve his country. The father who waited to do his technical reading and studying until past midnight so that he wouldn’t miss a minute with his boys while they were awake. The astronaut. The quiet one who could never adjust to the recognition like the others. The competitive one who pushed everyone around him to their best. The goofy one who renamed the stars and tried to get Alan Shepard arrested (chaotic good). The first one with assignments on all three programs: Mercury, Gemini, Apollo. The first of the original Seven to truly touch the Heavens. Gus is an ordinary man who became a legend, an American hero.

He’s also my personal hero. So happy birthday to the man who means more to me than I ever expected or thought possible. I don’t want to be too sappy and say that Virgil has saved my life, because he hasn’t; for the first time in a few years I’m actually doing okay. But having Gus as part of my life, part of my recovery, is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. He’s my hero, my inspiration, my motivation to do good work when I’ve lost my will, my best worst distraction when I need a break, and sometimes the one thing that can make me laugh when I need it most. He’s helped me through some tough times that are hard to explain, he’s the reason I joined the space community & met all of you wonderful people, he’s the best role model I could ask for. I’m more grateful to him, for so many reasons, than words could ever express.

And I miss him. Gus was one in a million. It would be nice to see the old man celebrating 91 years with us here on Earth. G-d, though, in His infinite wisdom, had better plans for a soul as lovely as Gus’, and all we can do is appreciate that every one of the almost 14,910 days he was with us was a blessing. But I still like to think that Gus knows how much we miss him, how I worry myself sick over him sometimes, just how loved he is. I’m sure he knows it, and I’m sure that even though he’s blushing at the attention, he appreciates it.

Happy birthday to the self-proclaimed good luck guy, my fuckin’ A, our Gus. Party hard, bubba ❤️