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just-some-sorta-person · 6 months

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Nagi's "Hidden Path"/ Loophole

*featuring Isagi, Bachira, and Rin analysis*

I've been thinking a lot about how Nagi represents a "hidden path" in Bluelock, and the ways in which it seems the main manga and episode Nagi disagree on whether he should succeed- the key issue being his relationship with Reo. He plays soccer for their collective dream in a manga where depending on another character for your motivation is treated as soccer suicide, which should doom him, but his own manga starts with the statement that his genius is shaped by Reo - framed as a good thing.

I've said in the past that maybe Nagi will succeed by Episode Nagi's standards, but fail by Blue Lock standards, and I still think that would be an interesting path to take, but rn I wanna discuss the alternative that Nagi succeeds by both standards, even if to a lesser extent in the main manga since Isagi is the MC. And we're assuming here that his relationship with Reo isn't permanently severed in a way that makes him more similar to every other Bllk character bc that would make him much less interesting and also remove the "hidden path" aspect that we're expecting here.

So for him to succeed by both standards, I think what essentially needs to happen is that Nagi represents a loophole or caveat in Blue Lock's philosophy. And to understand why that would be the case, we'd have to understand WHY playing for anyone but yourself is a bad thing in Blue Lock. And there are plenty of examples to draw from.

Isagi and "All for One"

We can start with the "One for all, all for one" team Isagi was in- the most extremely dependent soccer we see. I'll be drawing from Isagi's Light Novel for this, because it really just spells it out. First, let's look at the reasoning for that "all for one" given in response to Isagi's request to shoot more:

“Up until now, You could have won matches with your individual skills, but high school isn’t a piece of cake... We win together, and become stronger together! If you do that, then you'll have double the joy! And half the sorrow!”

The reasoning given here isn't that the resulting soccer is better at winning games - rather there is an emphasis on safety. "the world is tough", "If we stick together, there's half the sorrow". And within that emphasis, is the implication that the individual isn't enough.

We can also see complacency in this ideaology. When Ichinan loses, the coach says

“You fought well. It’s frustrating, but this is what Ichinan is capable of now. The third years are leaving after this… and some of you might quit soccer after today but you can be proud of the days you fought together as a team." "To me, Ichinan’s soccer team…is the best team in Japan!!!”

Within this dream doping that Ego rants about later on, we can again see the acceptance on the individual not being enough - "You fought well... but this is what Ichinan is capable of now." We also see within the dream doping the injection of safety and lack of perceived agency. Because we are one unit, there is no blame, no frustration, no need for improvement. The point is the team, not to win, so be proud.

Most damning is the way we see this reflected in Isagi

There’s no need to take a risky battle. If they lose, it will be his fault and he will feel bad for the team. He makes an exquisite pass to Tada's feet. A perfect last pass.

What's emphasized here is the risk in making an egotistical decision for the whole team in believing himself good enough to make that shot himself. What essentially happens here is a devaluing of the self - " I'm not good enough on my own, its safer to trust others, trust the system, not your instincts" And that forces Isagi to not live up to his fullest potential, to chase what he wants. Until Blue Lock that is.

Bachira and the Monster

Bachira is probably the character most directly "punished" in the narrative for playing for someone else. Though I feel like punish is the wrong word because this problem with his ego reared its head and was resolved in the same game - once he realized the problem, Bachira resolved to solve it

According to Bachira's explanation

"...Until now, I was afraid of playing soccer by myself. I guess I wanted you to come save me. But, once I tried fighting on my own, like I'd done as a kid, I realized...

And so the problem with his habit of looking for another player when playing instead of focusing on himself was again the perceived lack of agency, and devaluing of the self. Longing for someone to play soccer with led to a dependency that negatively impacted his decisions on the field

So that's why his moment of growth was breaking through all on his own to steak back Isagi and win - ignoring the idea that he should wait for someone else to help him. He needed to believe in his own agency/value to prove himself on the field and achieve his goals.

Rin and Sae

I recently took a look at Rin's Light Novel and there was a line that stood out as kinda similar to Bachira's old habit of passing to an imaginary monster before coming to Blue Lock

he understood why things were not going well. Neither their coach nor his other teammates have the slightest idea of Rin’s image of play in his head. (If it was Nii-chan, he would have made a pass here……) he thought so many times during today's practice. He jumped out in front of the goal to a position where I said, “Here!” but his teammates were like, “Huh?” “There?”

So whether you're passing or shooting, a reliance can develop, huh...

(How do Bachirin shippers feel about this parallel? haha. And what does this say about what Rin says to Bachira "But afraid of fighting alone. It is a soccer looking for someone. That luke-warm ego won't make my heart dance". Cus it seems Rin is criticizing Bachira for doing the same thing he did. What does this mean about how Rin feels about himself? (I mean.. he did already call himself lukewarm later but was he thinking about himself in that moment?))

In the light novel, I think it becomes clear one reason why Sae is so against Rin using him as his reason for soccer - it definitely affects how Rin plays when Sae is away. And since Sae becomes aware of the competition outside Japan during his time abroad, he knows that Rin's mentality as it was wouldn't be enough and thus wanted to spare him the suffering and have him give up. And this is in combination with the idea of "I've found out, that I'm not strong enough to hold you up. If you rely on me you'll fail" At least, this is my interpretation of it - but moving on-

With Rin’s last pass, they score a shot. If his Nii-chan had been there, he would have passed the ball to him in front of the goal and he would have scored it directly….. He stopped thinking. No pass is coming. That is now the reality. Anyway, the team won for the first time in a long time.

We see a lack of agency and a reliance on others once again - "If only Nii-chan was here". Like with Bachira, Rin is waiting for someone to "save" him, which limits what he chooses to attempt and stifles his potential because of how it limits his perceived agency.

We can also see this limitation in how he wants to be 2nd best after Sae - not best (de-valuing). It causes Rin to seal off his ego in order to catch up to Sae, by being more similar to Sae instead of developing according to his own unique talents/ego.

In order to catch up with his Nii-chan he saw off at the airport, he has to make the team’s victory his top priority. To do so, he must hold himself back. Hold back the you who was trying to steal the goal with everything you have using that sense of smell for the goal and assemble an attack as a team play.

Even after Sae's return he's always on Rin's mind, and this still limits his soccer. It's only after Rin declares himself lukewarm and rejects the stories others create through their relationship with him that he is able to go all out by embracing his own personal style, rather than focusing on others.

Back on Topic!

So in summary, what is wrong with depending on others? What causes Blue Lock to default to individualism? Ultimately it seems like its the resulting lack of perceived agency - the idea that you can't do things without other people present. By constraining yourself into a narrative with other people, you limit what you can do, and you limit what you think you can do by molding yourself to their vision. Thus, your potential is stifled.

How can Nagi and Reo become an exception to this reasoning? Well, maybe Nagi's decision to leave Reo during 2nd selection is part of the key.

We know from Episode Nagi and Manshine that Nagi wants to improve for the sake of his and Reo's collective dream. And he (correctly) identifies following soccer that challenges/excites him as the proper way to improve.

Here, Reo identifies them playing together as a must, but Nagi corrects him and saying that them being the best in the world together is a must, saying (in his head T-T) that he likes being with him, but that in order to protect their dream, Nagi needs to change.

It's actually pretty much spelled out here. Nagi says he's fine with Reo playing with other people, but insists that Reo stay with him till the end. Its ok to play soccer with others, but keep me in your heart always. In other words, I don't mind not playing together, but you and our end goal is always in my heart.

This is different from Isagi, Bachira, or Rin's situation because in those cases, the team/monster/Sae were considered as key to success. However, in Nagi's case, success is key to Reo. It's completely reversed. It's that nuance of "I play soccer to play soccer with you, to win with you" vs. "I play soccer for you, I win for you". Because "playing together" is not a requirement for winning, it no longer acts as a constraint that restricts agency. Nagi's concept of being together separate from playing soccer together saves their partnership from being the same as the others and frees him to (for example) join Isagi to improve.

You can see more of this in epinagi

The Tag Game

You might say this is a bad example because Nagi relies on Reo to get him un-eliminated, but by Nagi's "I figured you'd do that, Reo..." we can guess that this was more from laziness than a belief that he needed Reo's help. Indeed, when Reo's in danger of being eliminated himself, when their dream is in any real danger, Nagi takes it upon himself to solve the issue

They didn't solve the problem relying on teamwork/partnership or anything. Nagi solved the problem because they're partners.

Playing Against Barou

The next time their dream is "Challenged" is when Barou says "Becoming the world's best striker means you'll be alone until you die", essentially a challenge to the viability of Nagi and Reo's dream. Nagi's response to that is to run off and instigate a 1v1 with Barou

So again, rather than deny Nagi options, his partnership with Reo provided the motivation to act out on his own.

Playing against Team Z

Even when they play against team Z, we see this in action. Nagi plays a more reliant soccer, his dream/Reo is challenged when he sees Reo's face, and Nagi decides to act out on his own.

Nagi will rely on Reo for the sake of laziness, but when it comes to their dream, there's this pattern of deciding to rely less on Reo, take destiny into his own hands, and make an effort. It's really that nuance of doing something to be with someone vs. doing something for someone.

Beyond 1st/2nd Selection

Brief mention here of Nagi's eyes shining when Reo says "But it's not enough" when Nagi praises him. I think this might be Nagi thinking its a sign that Reo in fact has not forgotten their promise and is also working to achieve it - consistent with the idea of being together without necessarily playing together (Whereas Reo is thinking the other way round - improving for the sake of playing together because that's the only way to be together)

So, where this theory hits its roadblock is the Manshine City Arc, where Nagi asks for Reo's help. But because of all the ominous foreshadowing afterwards, in addition to Ego's words that Nagi's deep ego (implied by timing of skull imagery +all the scenes I just listed to be Reo/dream-centric) is about to be tested, I think their dynamic is bound to change in some direction within the next game. So, their relationship is still in development and the theory isn't necessarily debunked.

**edited in addition** I think the key is that regardless of their behavior, the core of their partnership (ie their internal feelings) isn't dependency, but rather reciprocated faith and commitment, though especially with Nagi's communication and introspection issues, it may take some time for them to figure that out because Reo has no idea the faith that Nagi has in him. Reo actually assumes that their partnership can't exist without dependence - assumes its over when that dependence fades because Nagi will have no reason to stay with him, but this is him insecurely misinterpreting Nagi's intentions. They also can't really flourish until Nagi figures out his ego/motivation, though that's luckily foreshadowed to be addressed. I think with how Reo misinterprets Nagi's motivations on a shallow level in 207, and how Nagi's motivation is foreshadowed to be addressed soon, we will get nagireo communication soon timeline wise (not real life lol). And hopefully with that communication, Reo's insecurity + Nagi's motivation can be addressed and they can begin to figure out a functional partnership within Blue Lock. But really the key here is that faith and devotion don't necessitate playing with only each other in mind, while dependence/reliance does.

In terms of what will happen, I think we might finally get a confirmation of what Nagi's ego is - it certainly fits with their conversation in 207, where Reo tries to give a substitute that doesn't really fit. I'm not sure what would happen once Nagi and Reo have the clarity of understanding what Nagi's ego is though...

In Any Case!

I'm running out of fuel but just to let ya'll know I was thinking really hard about what the difference was between Nagi and Reo's dynamic in comparison to partnerships or teamwork criticized by the main manga and I did not expect the difference I came up with to be the difference between reliance and devotion. "I am not enough by myself" vs. "I will make myself enough for you". I still wonder if I'm just biased?

Plz lmk ur thoughts

link to a continuation of these thoughts - Hiori's Words, Reo's Insecurity, Nagi's Enforced Indifference

#reo mikage #nagi seishiro #isagi yoichi #bachira meguru #rin itoshi #bllk meta #blue lock meta #nagireo #reonagi #bllk #blue lock #Nagi's utter devotion lives rent free in my head #episode nagi

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eastertag · 3 years

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@willow-salix gift for @gordonthegreatesttracy

The only thing he was aware of was the pain, pain so great it felt like his entire body had been ripped apart and set on fire. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he wasn’t even sure if he was alive or dead.

A world of pain, beyond which nothing else existed.

The heavy weight that had been pounding on his chest stopped, his lungs screamed in protest as he tried to suck air into them, fighting with him.

“I’ve got output!”

“He’s back!”

-x-

THIRTY-SEVEN MINUTES EARLIER

“You’re so lucky!”

“I know,” Gordon grinned, something that had been an almost permanent fixture on his face for the past three days since he’d heard that he, a relative newcomer, had been picked over everyone else. It was such an honour, completely unexpected, but an honour nonetheless.

“How did you even pull it off? Did Daddy throw some cash their way?” Browns teased.

“Ha! You wish that was the reason, then you’d never have to admit that it’s all down to my superior skills and outlandish charm,” Gordon preened as he yanked at the left leg of his dry suit. It was cumbersome, far thicker than he was used to, a complete pain in the ass to drag on, but an essential bit of kit that he would not be allowed out without.

Browns helped him hoist the back up over his shoulders once he got his arms in the holes. Gordon rolled his shoulder, settling the stiff material in place as best he could. He still felt uncomfortable but it sure beat the alternative.

“Five minutes to go!” his commander called through the door. “You almost ready, Tracy?”

“I was born ready, sir.”

“Good lad, then get moving.”

Gordon tried his hardest not to run out of the door, so eager was he to get his butt in that seat. Some people would never understand his excitement, but to him it was a dream come true. He’d seen the way his eldest brother would practically vibrate with excitement whenever he called home and told them all about the latest plane he’d been called in to test drive and, Gordon had to admit, he’d never really understood what all the fuss had been about. Now it was his turn and he knew that he’d be grovelling to Scott in a few hours time, begging his forgiveness for all the times he’d teased him about his latest winged crush. He was just as guilty, except his crush had two sleek and sexy foils propping her out of the water like the majestic queen that she was. And he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.

The next five minutes had flown by faster than he could track, people had surrounded him on all sides, all yanking and pushing and prodding him into place. One had helped him climb into the cockpit, carefully navigating so as not to knock his helmet on the metal bars of the reinforced frame that would encase him on both sides. Another had buckled him into his seat, bringing the safety straps down over his shoulders and clipping them into the buckle between his legs. Yet another had double checked the air supply to his suit, just in case.

The Navy hadn’t touched hydrofoils for almost a century after they had been deemed too expensive, too unpredictable and of no real use. Now WASP had taken up the challenge.

The project, codenamed Poiseiden, had seen the designing, building and now the testing of the Sea Skimmer hydrofoil, which looked set to be the next shining gem to come out of the experimental watercraft division.

As long as it worked as it should, there was the potential for it to become a standard vehicle in all branches of WASP before the end of the year, making high speed sea rescues or pursuits all the easier.

“Did you hear me, Tracy?” the engineer to his left asked again, making him jump.

“Yeah, sorry,” Gordon winced, cursing his lack of attention.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“I’m good, I swear. I was just running a mental checklist and didn’t hear you the first time,” he lied smoothly, refusing to admit that he had been picturing the glory that he’d get from this once the programme was rolled out across the board. This was a career making opportunity and he couldn’t afford to blow it.

“Good,” the man patted the top of Gordon’s helmet affectionately, before bellowing over his shoulder; “Team, roll out!”

The flock of people that had been buzzing around the craft melted away, each person having already completed their specific task or moving to prepare for it, leaving Gordon alone.

His gloved hands flexed on the controls, impatient to get going. The silence around him was broken by the crackle of the radio then the unmistakable sound of a countdown. Thirty seconds to go...twenty...ten...five…

The second clearance was given he was off, easing the boat out of its covered dock and out into WASP’s test harbour. Once he was clear of the floating observation platforms he opened her up, moving her in a graceful figure eight, just letting her glide through the water as he got a feel for the way she handled while gradually increasing speed.

He was five miles per hour off the predicted speed when he felt the first hint of lift, the very thing he had been waiting for. He straightened out, deviating from his previous path to that of a straight line before pushing the throttle a little more.

As her speed increased so did the lift, the foils doing their job perfectly, raising her hull out of the water, the foils beginning to skim just as they were supposed to. He couldn't help the little woop of excitement that escaped as the bow kept lifting higher and higher. It was only bloody working!

“You’re doing great, Tracy,” the voice over the radio said. “How does she feel?”

“Great, just great,” Gordon replied. “She’s handling like a dream, a little twitchy but nothing terrible. I can feel every little move that the water makes but not like a normal boat, more like when you’re surfing. She’s not plowing through the water, she’s skimming it just as she’s supposed to.”

“How much more can she take?”

Gordon glanced down at the speedometer, registering that she was already at just over two hundred miles per hour.

“Nothing in here, I'd need to take her to the open water.”

“Affirmative, carry on.”

Grinning widely, Gordon steered her straight for the opening that led to the stretch of ocean that was permanently closed to all marine traffic within a hundred and fifty square miles. He heard the safety boat following somewhere behind him but ignored it, they were professionals and would know to keep out of his way, he just had to concentrate on his own driving.

Once he was clear he pushed the throttle forward easing into the last third, ready to push her to her max. He watched as the speedometer readouts climbed ever higher, ten miles, twenty, thirty, she kept going, lifting higher and higher out of the water. He wasn't just feeling it, he could see it, the angle of the horizon line ahead of him changing before his eyes.

“Give her all she’s got, Tracy,” his commander encouraged and Gordon was only too happy to comply. It felt amazing, she was gliding, almost effortlessly, barely skimming the surface of the water as her sleek, aerodynamic foils sliced through all resistance like a hot knife through butter.

“Yes, sir!”

He pushed the throttle forward that last few millimeters until it could go no more. The engines roared their approval as the numbers continued to tick over edging ever closer to that elusive three hundred mark…

“Yes!” he screamed in triumph as the two rolled into a three.

“Well done, Tracy!” the voice over the radio praised. “How does she feel?”

“Like she’s standing still,” Gordon enthused. “It’s effortless, I can barely feel her moving at all. Smooth as silk.”

“Give her one last go around and then start easing back into port.”

“Got it,” Gordon confirmed, moving to do just that.

What happened next was both too quick to register but also felt like it was happening in slow motion. His hand gripped the throttle, starting to ease it back in order to begin deceleration, meaning to execute a large sweeping curve to bring her back around to face port. The handle, which should have moved back as easily as it had moved forward, stayed exactly where it was.

The hydrofil was already coming into the turn and her nose lifted even further, suspending her almost bolt upright for a split second before she left the water completely, shooting up into the air.

She cartwheeled through the air, end over end for three full turns before she came crashing face down into the water. Somewhere during the second tumble Gordon had managed to locate and press the button on the side of the steering wheel that activated the emergency ejector seat.

He felt the side of his helmet crack against the crumple cage, making his brain rattle in his skull as darkness overcame him.

“Move! Move! Move!” Commander Jennings bellowed as the safety boat he was on rushed to the scene. He could see the pilots seat in the distance, floating in the ocean not far from the wrecked craft.

His instruments and readouts told him that the safety valves in Gordon’s dry suit had opened, meaning that the suit’s sensors had detected enough ejection force to initiate the rush of air that would fill the suit, acting as both a cushion and a stabilizing force to protect his body as it crashed into the sea like a rag doll.

The sensors also told him that Gordon was not breathing.

They reached his side in less than a minute, paramedic divers already throwing themselves overboard to reach him before they had come to a complete stop.

They turned him over, finding a deep crack in his helmet that extended to the visor which was letting in water, filling up the space his head currently occupied. They flipped open the visor, letting the majority of the water drain away, but the hoped for breath was never heard.

A hover stretcher appeared beside them as they released his safety harness and dragged him to the board. He was strapped down and hauled into the boat as quickly as possible.

The second he was aboard they wasted no time in releasing the safety catch on his helmet and removing it as carefully as possible. They knew that they were risking further damage to his neck or spine, its current condition unknown, but getting him breathing was their top priority.

Working in tandem one started rhythmic chest compressions, trying to force the water out of his lungs and air down into them. On the count of thirty the paramedic stopped allowing his partner to seal her mouth over Gordon’s pushing two breaths into his lungs. They waited a beat, eyes searching for any kind of response while another of the team held the medscanner over him, waiting for the verdict. Nothing.

“Keep going, I’ll get this tube in him,” another ordered as they continued to work. Two rounds of chest compressions and mouth to mouth were completed as they readied the tube, chest compressions continuing as it was inserted.

They worked solidly for more than three minutes until finally, blessedly, the medscanner registered the faintest flicker of life. But it was enough.

-x-

The nurse hadn’t expected the sheer number of people that surged through the doors of her emergency room, all yelling one name and demanding to know what was going on, where he was, to be taken to him, to see his medical records and to talk to his doctor RIGHT THIS MINUTE.

“You can’t all be in here,” she started, trying to instill some kind of order into the chaos that was now clustered around the receptionist, who was blinking like a deer in headlights, unable to form words, her eyes darting from one to the other, trying to decide who to answer first.

“Are you in charge here?” the tallest man demanded to know, his eyes flicking from her face to her name tag, Senior Nurse Sophie Gardner.

“I am,” she stated calmly, crossing her arms to show she meant business. She’d been on the receiving end of a large number of distressed family members and knew that they would pounce on her the second she showed even the slightest hint of weakness.

“Who are you here to see?”

“Gordon Tracy, he was brought in by air around 90 minutes ago,” Scott told her, trying his hardest not to snap.

“And you are?”

“His brother.”

“And the rest? It’s close family only, no friends allowed.”

“His brothers and our grandmother,” Scott answered, daring her to argue.

“All of you are family?”

“Yes! What do you need ID now?” Scott snapped, rapidly losing patience.

“Can we see my grandson now, please?” Sally asked, inserting herself in front of Scott and into the conversation.

“Let me just look him up,” Sophie said, moving to the computer to pull up his file. She remembered the state of him when they had brought him in, she had only just come on shift but had been there to do the handover.

An air ambulance had arrived, landing on the helipad on the roof and he had immediately been rushed through her department, barely giving them time to complete the minimum of observations and take notes before he had been whisked away again. It wasn’t unusual, they were one of the most advanced military hospitals in the country, they were used to life or death cases.

She could picture him, lying on the stretcher, strapped to a board, his uniform suit cut to ribbons both from scissors and from whatever had happened to him to cause so much damage. He was instantly fast tracked through her department and rushed on to the surgical team for scans and treatment.

Now Sophie was faced with his scared and demanding family and it looked like it would be falling to her to deliver some of the bad news.

“He’s being prepped for surgery, he might even be in by now. The full extent of his injuries aren’t known but I can promise you we’re doing our best.”

“When can we see him?” Virgil asked, butting in for the first time, leaving John to continue texting Kayo who had stayed behind with Alan. Alan had not been happy with that decision, but the others had stood firm. They didn’t know what they were going to find when they got there, what state their brother would be in and the youngest didn’t need to see anything that would be hard for him to forget. Scott had tried to impose the same restriction on Sally but had quickly given up, knowing it had been a lost cause before he had even started.

“When he’s out of surgery and stable,” Sophie replied kindly, knowing that they didn’t mean to be so forceful and demanding, she wasn’t going to take it personally just yet. “If you’ll all follow me I’ll take you to the relatives room where you can wait for news, I’ll let the surgeons know that you’re here but I’m afraid you might be in for a long wait.”

“Waiting won’t be a problem,” Scott assured her as they stalked down the corridor after her.

It was a silent party that sat in that room all night long, sat for more than nine hours as their little brother underwent one gruelling surgery after another, the first of many trips into the theater that he would undergo over the next few days, or so they had been told.

The member of the surgical team, who had been called in to talk to them, had been kind and very sympathetic as he had delivered the crushing news, revealing the full extent of Grodon’s injuries. Each one more horrific than the last.

The immediate concern was his ruptured spleen, lacerated liver, punctured lung and depressed skull fracture. The plan was, if the current surgeries he was undergoing went well, to keep him in a medically induced coma as soon as he was out of surgery, give his body at least 24 hours to rest and strengthen before taking him back in to deal with the numerous fractures he had sustained.

Among those fractures were a broken nose, broken arm, a fractured wrist, a broken leg, fractured pelvis, numerous broken ribs and, most worrying of all was the two cracked vertebrae in his neck, two herniated discs and the pulled muscles that went along with them.

If the operations to fix and stabilize those broken bones went well, then he would be passed to the cosmetic surgery team who would do what they could for the deep lacerations that littered his skin, friction burns and the removal of any foreign objects that had entered his body due to flying shrapnel.

The nurse had kindly sent a porter in with hot drinks and sandwiches for them once the doctor had left but they remained untouched, none of them able to stomach the thought of eating. All they could do was watch the clock, counting down the minutes and, for some, praying to anyone they thought would listen. They bargained, they made promises, everything that could possibly help.

They had lost too many people in their family already, their grandfather and mother on the same day, their mothers parents a few years later and then, most recently, their father. The thought of losing another person, one so integral to their lives, was too horrible to even contemplate.

“He’ll be fine,” Scott said out loud, feeling the need to break the silence, knowing exactly what his family were thinking because he’d undoubtedly been having the same thoughts. “It’s Gordon, nothing keeps him down for long.”

“He’s made it this far,” John agreed. “I saw the report on the hydrofoil and-”

“Wait, how did you see that?” Virgil asked, happy to be distracted.

“I...well...I have my ways,” John stammered, his face slightly flushed, refusing to look at them.

“John?” Scott’s tone said it all.

John sighed defeately. “I wanted to know exactly what happened, I might have hacked into the accident report that WASP submitted an hour ago.”

“I can’t believe you did that!” Virgil groaned. Honestly, John was supposed to be the brother that he didn’t worry about, because it obviously wasn’t Gordon or Scott.

“I can,” Scott said, glaring at his younger brother who stared right back, undeterred by the look that had had many a young air force recruit shaking at the knees.

“Are you telling me you don’t want to read it?” John asked innocently, waving his phone temptingly in his brother's direction.

“No, of course not, that’s highly illegal and-”

John wiggled the phone one last time.

“Give it here,” Scott growled, leaning over to snatch the phone. “Just to see if there is anything we can blame them for.”

“Of course,” John agreed placidly. “That was the only reason I looked.”

Virgil tried to hold in the small snort of laughter that bubbled up, feeling that it would be highly inappropriate, but his grandmother caught his eye, smiling softly.

Sally reached for one of the now cold cups of coffee that had been provided and, as always taking their cues from her, Virgil did the same.

“Eat up, boys,” Sally instructed, nodding to the plates of sandwiches. “When that boy comes through, and I’ve no doubt that he will, he’s going to need our strength. He’ll have a lot to deal with and we’re going to be there for him.”

“Yes, Grandma,” they agreed, dutifully reaching for a sandwich each. She was right, their brother was a fighter, he was a Tracy after all, there was no way on this earth or beyond that he would let something like this take him out.

-x-

The first thing Gordon noticed when he regained consciousness was the fact that his mouth was so dry his tongue felt like the inside of a hamster cage and he couldn’t seem to work up any spit. He concentrated hard and tried to swallow a couple of times but something was stopping him.

He tried to lift his arm to touch his mouth but that one tiny movement was enough to wake up his body as well as his mind. Pain the likes of which he had never felt before engulfed him from head to toe, not one part of him seemed to be free of it. Even his eyeballs hurt. He couldn’t help the little whimper that escaped his nose and, when he tried to speak, to call out for any kind of help at all, he was once again hampered.

“Hey, hey, you’re OK, just calm down for a second, let me get a doctor,” someone said, their voice soothing and gentle, as was the cool hand they placed on his forehead. A buzzer sounded somewhere nearby and he forced his eyes open to see what was happening.

“Try not to talk or move,” said a new voice that was accompanied by a blurry face. “You were in an accident and you’re in hospital. You’ve been through a lot but you’re responding really well, you’ve got a breathing tube but your lungs seem to be working fine so just sit tight for a few minutes and we’ll see about getting that out for you.”

Gordon allowed himself to relax as best he could as the first person to have spoken returned.

“Are you feeling any pain?”

He nodded as best he could with what felt like a neck brace holding him still and even that little movement hurt. How could something as simple as moving his head take so much energy? How could it be such an effort?

“I’ll just give your epidural a little top up, you’ll soon feel better. We had to reduce your medication a little to bring you round and it's always a bit of a balancing act to get the right amount to keep someone comfortable.”

He, Gordon could tell it was a male now, was as good as his word and soon the aching in his body dulled from a screaming roar to a low rumble, far more manageable than it had been before.

“I’m Doctor Clark,” another new voice announced, introducing himself. “I was your surgeon and I’m here to see about getting that tube out of you, but I need to just check you over first, is that alright? Don’t try to nod, just lift your hand or even a finger if that’s all you can do.”

Gordon tried to nod anyway but gave up and commanded his right hand to move, finding it a little easier now that he could barely feel it. The doctor could do whatever he needed to, as long as he got that damn tube out of him and let him have a drink.

Dr Clark checked the readouts, made him breathe deeply a number of times, listened to his chest and, after attaching a suction device to the end of his tube, made him cough a few times to clear his lungs, then listened to his chest again.

“OK, you’re sounding good, can you just open your mouth for me?”

Gordon did as he was told and the doctor suctioned away with little moisture he’d managed to produce with his coughing, cut away the tape holding the tube in place and took hold of the end.

“I’m just going to deflate the air cuff inside, you might feel a small easing of pressure but don’t worry if you can’t.”

Gordon felt nothing but assumed that the doctor had done as he said he would.

“I need you to take two deep breaths for me and then when I tell you, I need you to give me a couple of good coughs, can you do that?”

Gordon attempted a thumbs up as nodding or moving his head much was making him dizzy, but he couldn’t move enough to do so and had to settle for just a brief one finger lift.

“Alright, deep breaths, one...and two...and now cough, nice big cough…”

As Gordon coughed the doctor tugged gently on the tube. He felt it slide up his throat, hitting his tonsils on the way out, making him gag and cough as he fought to keep calm.

“All done,” the doctor praised, and immediately an oxygen mask was slapped over his nose and mouth, easing his breathing just a little. “You did good, how do you feel?”

Gordon tried to swallow, to speak but his throat felt like it was on fire and all he could do was croak.

“Mouth dry?”

He coughed again, wincing at the pain in his throat.

“We can’t let you drink yet, but we can try to make you a little more comfortable.”

The nurse took his mask off again and inserted something wet into his mouth which she swirled around, coating the inside of his mouth. It felt horrible, like a wet slug rolling around in there, but it at least gave his parched tongue a little relief, although it was nowhere near enough.

“What happened?” he rasped after clearing his throat a few times and drinking a little more.

“You’ve been in an accident, but you’re safe now,” Dr Clark told him.

Gordon frowned, although the action made his head hurt. “Was I...mission?” He must have been doing something, there was no way he could have any kind of accident of this magnitude on his island home with his family present… his thoughts skidded to a halt.

“Family?” he managed to whisper, his eyes darting around the room. Had something happened to them? Had they been in a plane somewhere?

“They are all in the relatives room, waiting for you to wake up,” the nurse told him.

“They...OK?”

“Yes, they weren’t involved,” the nurse answered, obviously used to the way that patients' minds could work. Gordon closed his eyes, relaxing now that he knew his family were safe. That meant that he must have been doing something with his unit.

“Team?” he rasped.

“I’m sorry?” the nurse obviously couldn’t decipher that one.

“My team...hurt?”

“Oh, no, it was just you.”

That gave him a little peace of mind, knowing that no one else had been hurt, but that still begged the question of what the hell had he been up to?

“What happened...to me?

“Some kind of boat crash,” Dr Clark explained, looking up from the notes he was adding to the tablet at the end of his bed. “I didn’t ask too many details, I just got to work. I patch up people, not machinery.”

“Boat?”

“Yes,” the doctor nodded. “I hear your family are rather anxious to see you, would you feel up to seeing one of them?”

Gordon nodded as hard as he was able, even though he’d been told not to. There was nothing he wanted more in the world than to see a familiar face.

-x-

“He’s awake,” the nurse told the waiting Tracys who had become an almost permanent fixture in the relatives room over the last ten days. Sometimes there would be just one of them, more often than not only two, but now there were six of them waiting with baited breath to find out the news.

A sigh of relief rippled around the room as they all let out the breaths they had been holding.

“Can we see him?”

“Is he talking?”

“Does he remember anything?”

The questions came thick and fast as they often did. Grace had gotten used to one or more of them popping up without any notice and demanding information. They had managed to pull some major strings and gotten hold of his medical records, how she did not know, and had sat there poring over them until they knew as much about his case and treatment as she did. The grandmother, it transpired, was a retired surgeon that still kept her hand in now and then, and so she had taken it upon herself to pelt them with questions on an hourly basis when she was there.

“Yes, you can see him,” Grace started, picking the easiest question to answer, clearing her throat to get their attention back when they broke out in excited chattering. “But only one at a time. He’s been through an ordeal and he’s not strong enough to deal with too much excitement.”

“Only one?” Virgil asked.

“Yes, just one,” Grace insisted, giving them that look they referred to as her matron glare.

They argued back and forth for a few moments, something she’d noticed they did a lot, before coming to their decision.

Grace led Mrs Tracy into the private room where her Grandson rested. In the brief time that she had been gone it seemed that Gordon had drifted off to sleep again, something that would happen quite often over the next few days as his body rested and the drugs that were keeping him pain free did their job.

“I’ll just sit here and wait,” Sally told Grace, using the same no nonsense tone that Grace herself used with difficult patients and she knew it would be useless to argue.

“I’ll get you a chair,” Grace said, giving in gracefully.

“Thank you, dear.”

-x-

Gordon didn’t know how long he’d slept for, or if he’d even slept at all. His mind was fuzzier than his first hangover and he had no clue if it was night or day. There were no curtains open in the room he was in, no hint of an outside world, just the clinical bleakness of the white ceiling and the ever present beeping of the machines monitoring him.

Thankfully he was still floating on a blissfully cloud of oblivion, feeling detached from every part of his body, like it didn’t even belong to him. He coughed to clear his throat, his mouth feeling ever so dry once again.

He tried to turn his head, to lift his arm to reach for the glass of wet swabs that had been there earlier, but another hand beat him to it, it’s arm encased in a familiar purple velour fabric.

“Gr-grandma?”

“Right here, son” she said softly, aware that he might not appreciate her speaking too loudly. She nodded for him to open his mouth and with practiced ease, swirled his weird water lollipop around his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

“Better?” she asked. “Had enough for now?” Seeing his small nod she set the glass aside and turned back to face him. “You had us all very worried, young man.”

“Sorry,” he rasped, wincing when it hurt his throat. “What...ha-happened? They said...boat.”

“You don’t remember? Nothing at all?”

“No.”

“You were test driving the new hydrofoil for the experiential watercrafts division.”

“I was?” he paused to cough, the action pulling at his chest, a sharp stabbing pain shooting through him from his ribs and abused lung. “Guess I didn’t do too well with it, huh?”

“I’m sure it wasn’t anything you did,” she assured him.

“How long was I out?” he asked. The more he was talking the easier it was getting, although his throat still felt like he’d been swallowing razor blades. He must have been asleep a good few hours to feel this weak and woosey.

Sally took a deep breath before delivering the news. “Sweetheart, you were in a coma for ten days.”

Gordon blinked, unable to fully comprehend what she had just said.

“Ten...ten days?” How badly had he been hurt? He tried to lift his head, tried to look down at his body to assess the damage. A gentle hand on his chest stopped him from straining too much, but not before he registered the fact that both of his arms were in casts, so too was his leg and, now that he wiggled, he could feel something like a large stiff belt around his stomach and between his legs. His eyes widened in shock, his eyes darting down to his midsection, his face turning white with fright when he saw the bandages. Had...had something happened to little Gordon? Oh God, please say no!

“How bad?” he demanded to know and, although his voice was shaking, Sally knew he needed to hear the truth. Knowing it would be better coming from her she didn’t mince her words, quickly and clinically rattling off his list of injuries and the treatments he’d had so far.

“Quick bone fusion for the right arm, left wrist and left leg. They reset your nose at the same time. Your pelvis wasn’t as badly damaged as they had feared and didn’t need pinning, just a little lasering, though it is immobilised for no-”

“Just my pelvis? Nothing...else?” he winced, not wanting to talk about such things to his grandma but needing to know all the same.

“Just your pelvis,” she assured him with a knowing smile.

“What else?” he asked, breathing a sigh of relief at the news that he was still whole...down stairs.

“They repaired the torn ligaments in your shoulder, have immobilised your neck due to two cervical fractures of the vertebrae-”

“That’s not...I’m not...can I walk?” he tried to wiggle his toes and thought he felt movement but he couldn’t see to be sure.

“It’s not paralysing, no. No damage from that at all.”

“What else?”

“Apart from the fractures you’ve got two herniated discs and pulled muscles there too.”

Gordon gestured with one finger for her to continue.

“You’ve got a number of cracked ribs from the CPR-”

“CPR?”

“You hit the water face down, from what we were told it was due to your helmet filling up from a crack in the visor.”

“So I basically drowned out there?”

Sally nodded, keeping her eyes focused on his. With anyone else she would have fudged a little, maybe broken it to them a little more gently and eased them in. But Gordon was, first and foremost, a Tracy, and they liked the facts, all of them, because that made it easier to fight back. And she had zero doubts that he would do just that.

Gordon took a deep breath trying to wrap his head around all the information she was laying out for him. He’d taken it all in so far, like it was happening to someone else, but that, the knowledge that he could have lost his life to the thing he loved most, the sea...well that was just too hard to think about.

“And the rest?” he asked, wanting to know all there was, no nasty surprises in his future.

“Depressed skull fracture, fractured eye socket that will heal on its own, punctured lung from your ribs and the CPR, a particle splenectomy from a reputed spleen and a repaired liver laceration. You’ve also had a number of stautures and some skin grafts already but I’m afraid you might still need more.”

“Is that all? One more stamp and I could have gotten a free cup of coffee.”

Sally didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry when he made such a bad, but totally Gordon, attempt at a joke. There had been a moment, during that long, long first day of his accident, that she had honestly thought that she might never hear his voice again, let alone have him cracking a joke less than four hours after waking from a coma. It was more than she had ever dared to dream but she knew from experience that, when it came to her grandsons, nothing was impossible.

A noise near the door made them both glance over. The sight of Scott’s face pressed against the window greeted them.

“I guess I’m popular today.”

“Yeah, I guess you are,” Sally agreed. “I could do with stretching my legs, so I’ll let him in. He's been waiting a long time.”

-x-

A steady stream of family trickled in one after the other to see their miracle sibling, but soon he was yawning, dropping off midconversation and when the nurses had their shift change the Tracys were ushered out and told to come back the next day.

Now he was sitting there, alone, unable to get up, unable to do anything to amuse himself, left alone with his thoughts. As was so often the way, he’d been tired and napping on and off while his family had been there, but the moment they had left he’d developed some kind of second wind energy rush and was now wide awake.

He tried closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep, he’d tried counting sky squids like his mother had told him to do as a child, he’d tried thinking about the most boring of Brains’ lectures, but nothing had worked.

Everytime he tried to focus on boring things or to clear his mind in order to relax, his brain insisted on replaying back the information that Grandma had given him.

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew that he was lucky to even be alive after a wreck like he’d had. He’d forced John and Scott, against their better judgement, to tell him all they knew about the accident. He’d needed to know. He needed it to try to remember exactly what it was that had happened to him and how it had gone so wrong.

The lack of memories was disturbing, to know that something had gone wrong, horrendously wrong but to have no recollection of it, it was beyond frustrating. He had a body that was effectively broken, one that, according to his doctor, would take upwards of a year to fully heal from, if such a thing was even possible. He’d been warned, as had they all, that the likelihood of him having complications was all too real and that he had better prepare himself for it.

It wasn’t just the things that he had been told and the prospect of months of painful rehabilitation that was weighing heavily on his mind, it was the thing that no one had spoken of. It was the fact that he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that his career, the one that he had worked so hard to achieve, would be over.

Oh, he’d get an honourable discharge on medical grounds. But he'd be leaving in a whisper rather than the blaze of glory that his father and then his brother had done before him. He’d been on track for greatness, just as they had. He’d been the stand out star of his recruitment year, his olympic training and subsequent fitness levels and endurance had given him a fantastic platform from which to dive in with. He’d quickly risen up the ranks, making a name for himself as one of youngest but brightest in his class.

His desire to learn as well as his passion for marine biology and conservation had led to him taking a slightly different path to his fellow recruits. Many had passed on the offer, thinking it too boring but he had jumped at the chance to spend a year in command of his own bathescape studying underwater farming methods with a small but dedicated crew that had quickly become like family to him.

Any emergency at that depth could have the potential to turn into a matter of life or death and, when one of their generators had malfunctioned, taking along with it half their air filtration works, putting strain on the remaining one, they had found themselves plunged into just such a situation.

He’d had to think fast and stay calm. They had pulled up the schematics and managed to bypass the fault on a temporary basis while waiting for a supply of spare parts to be delivered. He had led his team well, he had kept them from panicking and kept the mission on track. And, in doing so, saved the research grant budget the expense of failing and having to surface to try again the next year when the migration season started again.

His determination, dedication, resourcefulness and persistence had been noted, along with his ability to stay calm under pressure. It had gained him a promotion and fast tracked his offer to join the team on the experimental watercraft division, something he’d always dreamed of.

Now it seemed that that dream had well and truly come back to bite him on the ass in the form of the hydrofoil that had apparently just wrecked all his hopes for the future in one fell swoop. What was the point of anything anymore?

A wave of hopelessness washed over him like a tidal wave, stealing his breath and the last of his control. The brave face he’d been holding on to all day while in the presence of his family faded away, giving way to heartbroken tears.

“Why?” he asked out loud to no one in particular, was he talking to God, to whatever guardian angel that had been by his side that day or to whatever sick twisted fate it was that had chosen him to pick on. “Why did you let me live?”

-x-

“It’s been a week and he’s barely made any progress,” Scott sighed to John as they walked the short distance to Gordon’s room in the recovery wing from the roof where they had been given permission to land.

They were the ones on shift for today's stint of what they were all secretly calling ‘Squid Watch’. Now that he was out of immediate danger they had given up the hotel rooms they had occupied for the first two weeks and had begun commuting from the island for the designated visiting hours. They had learnt that the freedom to come and go as they pleased and to stay for long portions of the day had gone once Gordon had been moved from the ICU to the more cheerful surrounds of the high dependency ward.

“Still?”

Scott nodded. “Nurse Donna told Virgil that he was barely eating, just enough to stave off the threat of another tube down his nose, he hasn’t even attempted any of the bed bound exercises he’s been given and he’s refusing to see the Physio to discuss his long term plans.”

“Stubborn brat,” John huffed.

“Well, he is a Tracy,” Scott shrugged, unable to do much else. “You know that nothing can make us do something we don’t want to.”

“Then we have to make him want to,” John replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, right,” Scott scoffed. “We’ll just walk right on in as normal and say ‘Hey, Gordo, we know that your life as you knew it is basically over but hey, you’re still here. I mean, you can’t do anything you want to and you’re stuck in that bed for God knows how long but eat up your greens, there’s a good boy.’ That’ll go down real well.”

“Obviously we won’t say that,” John scowled, his tone telling Scott that he was being as much of an idiot as Gordon at that moment in time. “It’s obvious that he’s lost his drive, he’s feeling hopeless, which is perfectly understandable.”

“Yes,” Scott sighed, “it is.”

“So we need to give him something to bring him hope, something to work hard for.”

“You’d think the thought of walking again would be enough for him.”

“Would it be for you?” John asked quietly. “Think about it. If you had crashed one of those jets you tested, and you had ended up as hurt as he is, or worse, and you were looking down a long tunnel to an unknown future, one that very likely, won’t match up to the one you had mapped out in your head, would you have any desire to move towards it?”

Scott opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again without speaking. He wanted to say yes, of course he would, because any future was better than not having one. But he tried hard to never lie to himself or his family.

“Probably not,” he admitted quietly. It was true, if he had crashed and was facing the prospect of never flying again, of never seeing the ground vanishing beneath him as he soared up through the clouds into a brilliant blue sky, he would find it hard to accept it and carry on.

“So we need to show him what he’s missing,” John continued. “I think we need to show him the Silverfin.”

Scott sucked in a breath, letting it out through pursed lips in a long whistle.

“That's risky.”

“I know.”

“It could seriously backfire, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware of that fact, yes.”

“Because if he sees it, if he listens to our plans and then ends up unable to join in as he’d want, that could make things even worse for him.”

“I know. But, as you just said, he’s a Tracy.”

“It could be the push he needs,” Scott conceded.

“It will be the push he needs,” John promised. “We know him, we know that he can do anything he puts his mind to.”

“He’s stronger than he thinks,” Scott agreed. “Stronger than any of us give him credit for. Look at how much he’s achieved in what, just over two years in WASP? He’s done more in his career than many could ever dream of let alone hope to achieve.”

“He has,” John started walking again and Scott had no choice but to follow along or get left behind. You didn’t argue with John when he was on a mission.

“You heard Grandma, this is the most crucial part of his recovery,”John continued, assuming correctly that Scott would keep up with him. “The first steps. This is make or break time. His injuries are severe, yes, but not hopeless, not by a long shot. People have recovered from worse, he just needs to push himself to do it. It doesn’t matter how well they put him back together if he doesn’t work on holding it all in place.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I usually am,” John shrugged, no hint of boasting in his tone, just John saying the facts as he saw them.

“Yeah, right,” Scott laughed, because he was his brother and everyone knew that you didn’t ever admit to your younger siblings being right more than once in a week if you could help it. “We’re really going to do this?”

“I don’t see that we have a choice.”

Gordon was lying down in bed when they walked in, not too unexpected given the circumstances, it wasn’t like they had been expecting to see him doing much at all, but they had hoped he’d at least be sitting up since the doctor’s had cleared him for gentle movements.

“Hey, Squid boy,” Scott greeted as cheerfully as he could. “How you doing today?”

“Oh, I’m just peachy, I took a little trip to the beach, caught some waves and then I decided I needed a nap,” Gordon drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “What are you two doing here, anyway?”

“We told you we’d be coming,” John answered, picking up the tablet from its holder at the end of Gordon’s bed to study it.

“And I told you not to brother, it’s not like I’m the most entertaining company at the moment and I don’t feel like having visitors,” Gordon closed his eyes again, intending on ignoring them until they went away.

“Have you eaten much today?” Scott asked, ignoring his brother’s blatant dismissal of them.

“Yes.”

“It says here you refused breakfast, you only had a yogurt for lunch and didn’t complete your order form for your evening meal,” John told him, while busily flicking through the notes.

“Hey!” Gordon opened his eyes again to glare at his brother. “Do you mind? That’s my private medical records, it’s none of your business.”

“Of course it is.” John finished his reading and returned the tablet to its rightful spot.

“Gordo, you have to eat,” Scott sighed, sinking into one of the visitor's chairs that sat beside the bed. “How can you expect to get your strength back if you aren’t fueling your body properly?”

“It’s not like I could do anything with the strength if I had it,” Gordon growled out. “I’m stuck in this bed for the foreseeable future. So tell me, oh great and powerful, Scott, just what do I need to do anything for?”

John glanced at Scott, who nodded, answering the unspoken question. Time to enact their plan. He shrugged off his backpack and opened it, pulling out his tablet. With a few quick swipes he found what he was looking for and held it up for Gordon to see.

“What’s that?”

“Our secret project,” Scott told him.

“I can’t see it from there, bring it closer.”

“No,” John stayed right where he was at the foot of the bed. “Sit up and look for yourself.”

Gordon huffed and stubbornly stayed horizontal, but his eyes kept straying to the tablet. He could barely see it, but what he could see looked vaguely familiar. Curiosity and just a touch of boredom won out.

He fumbled with the bed controls, located the remote and pushed the button to lift the head of the bed until he was brought to a sitting position.

“There, happy? Now let me see it.”

John moved closer and offered the tablet.

Gordon automatically reached out for it with his left hand, forgetting that it was encased in an air cast due to the fractured wrist. Growling in frustration he tried again with the right and took the tablet. Unable to hold it with only one hand he lifted his ‘good’ leg which, although unbroken, was covered in bruising, none of which made it an easy task but eventually he was able to prop the tablet against his thigh and scroll with his right hand.

His eyes widened as he took in the images displayed there.

“This is a Silverfin, isn't it?”

“Yep,” Scott grinned.

“But WASP didn’t continue the development, they deemed them too small and slow to be of any use and decided to focus on the Stingray.”

“We know, but Brains saw the potential in her that they didn’t. She might not have been of any use for patrolling the seas but for moving around them like we’d need, she’d be perfect.”

“He’s adapting her?” Gordon’s eyes scanned the pictures, the first one showing the Silverfin in her original form, half completed and scrapped, the funding and enthusiasm for her having dried up. The second showed her to clearly be in some kind of dry dock that was being used as a workshop. She’d been stripped back to little more than a shell, some engine parts and a turbine or two. The third and last pictures showed what looked to be new panels being test fitted and an adapted nose cone. Instead of the elongated nose she’d had originally there sat the cutest little snub nose he’d ever seen, reminding him of an upturned pigs snout.

"With Virgil's help, yes," John said.

"Why? Has he decided to branch out into contract work now that the work on the space station is almost complete?"

"Nope," John answered.

“Then what's this for?” he couldn’t help but ask, his eyes feasting on every little detail he could see. She was barely anything at the moment, but damn she could be beautiful if she was given the love and attention she had always deserved.

“For you,” Scott said quietly. John had been right, the way that Gordon had gone from apathy to interest in a matter of seconds was proof of that.

“Me?” Gordon scoffed. Even though his brother's tone had been completely serious he still couldn't believe it wasn't some kind of sick joke. “You’d need a pretty big bathtub to float her in, because that's the only kind of boat I’ll ever be around again.”

“With that attitude it will,” John said mildly, taking the second seat next to Scott.

“So do something about it,” Scott pushed. “Look at her, just look.” He stabbed a finger at the screen. “That there will be the next in our fleet, and she’ll need a pilot.”

“Me? You seriously think I’d ever be able to do anything like that, while I’m like this? You’re crazy.” Gordon pushed the tablet away, not wanting to look at it any more. That was the unobtainable right there. That was yet another reminder of what could have been but never would.

“No, not while you’re like that,” Scott sighed, sounding defeated even to his own ears.

“So do something about it,” John said curtly. “It’s your choice, we're just hoping you make the right one.” Without saying anything else he took the tablet and placed it on the bedside table. “Come on, Scott, let’s go and get a coffee before we head home.”

Scott looked from Gordon to John, taking in the frustration and sadness on one and then the calm dismissive demeanor of the other as John turned to the door.

"I told you it wasn't worth you coming," Gordon sneered, lowering the bed again.

"You're always worth it," Scott promised him before following John out the door.

The fast food restaurant just offsite wasn't the best and the coffee was far below their usual standards but it was welcome after the day they had had.

Scott and Virgil had been called out early in the morning and their relatively simple rescue had turned out to be far more complicated than they had anticipated. When they had returned they were tired, filthy and aching all over. Scott had come straight from the shower, leaving Kayo on call with Virgil, and he and John had left for the hospital.

Now their attempts at motivating their little brother had fallen flatter than one of Grandma's cakes and they were both feeling like they had done more harm than good.

"Did we just screw up?" Scott asked quietly, playing with the rim of his cup but not making any move to drink from it.

"Possibly," John sighed, sipping his own drink and making a face at the taste. "Only time will tell. We've done our best, it's up to him now. He's the only one that can decide if he's going to fight or give up entirely."

They lapsed into silence, both lost in their own thoughts. It had been so hard the first time they had walked in to see Gordon after his first life saving operation. His face had been a puffy, bruised mess from his broken nose and fractured eye socket, his eyes almost swollen shut.

He'd had a bandage around his head where they had shaved off some of his hair to examine his skull fracture and close the wound there. Both of his arms and one of his legs in air casts to keep them stable until the next day and his torso a mass of bandages and blood tinged gauze from a combination of lacerations and the two operation sites from fixing his spleen and liver.

He'd looked so small, not in stature maybe, but in energy, his aura if you will. So still and so quiet, something that Gordon only ever was when he was asleep, and that didn't happen very often with his tendency of mumbling in his sleep and turning a full rotation of the bed in a single night.

Then he had been silent, the only sound was the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the whoosh, hiss of the machine that was providing him with oxygen and regulating his breathing as he slept the deep sleep of the heavily sedated.

Over the next few days they had sat in the relatives room and prayed every time his tired body had undergone yet another operation, the surgeons doing all they could to fix his body for him.

Now they were hoping and praying that his mind could be fixed too.

"What was that?" Scott said when a beep broke the quiet, clearly looking for a distraction.

"My phone," John answered, pulling it out to check it.

"Who is it?" Scott asked, seeing the confused expression on his brother's face.

"I apparently sent myself an email."

"Huh?"

The confusion quickly morphed into a wide smile as John's eyes scanned the words.

"It was sent from my tablet."

"And?"

"It reads 'Bring me up a burger and fries when you've finished your coffees, then you can tell me more about this Silverfin."

-x-

The walk down to the hangars had never seemed to take as long as it was now. He knew it was down there, but he’d been banned from seeing anything of it since those first four pictures. It was supposed to be a surprise.

He’d tried to sneak in numerous times, he’d tried to hack into the files, he’d tried bribery, guilt tripping and sulking but nothing had worked.

He couldn't say that he minded, not really, because he knew it was there. He'd known that somewhere deep below their villa, in the center of their island, his baby had been taking shape. He’d not been allowed any input in the shape, the visuals or anything else to do with her design, but her functions, that he’d been allowed to have a say in.

Brains had spent countless hours on video calls with him, discussing everything that Gordon insisted his craft needed, from her dry tubes to her mechanical arms, the type of sonar she was using to the consoles and onboard technology. And he just knew she would be spectacular. WASP might have their Stingray, but he’d have his little Thunderbird, now dubbed Thunderbird Four after John’s space station had been upgraded and become a fully fledged craft itself, going from a stationary satellite to a fully maneuverable ship.

Sometimes the thought of his girl taking shape, waiting for him, had been the only thing keeping him going through his painful, exhausting and sometimes seemingly hopeless recovery process.

It hadn’t been easy, on either his mind or his body and he wasn't ashamed to admit that, for a significant portion of that time, he had been the worst patient ever. Once the initial excitement of the Silverfin development had worn off and he had been staring down the long tunnel of recovery to his still quite uncertain future, he'd had times where he hadn’t been sure that it was possible to regain even half of his previous physicality, let alone get back to the full strength that would be needed to be of any use to International Rescue.

He didn’t want to be a dead weight to his family, he didn’t want them to be picking up the slack of his inadequacies, to spend more of their time rescuing his ass than the people they were trying to help.

Depression wasn’t something he had ever considered as a possibility in his life. He was the upbeat one, the one that kept the spirits up of those around him, so to not even be able to rise a smile for himself…let’s just say that there had been some very dark moments over his long months of recovery where he had not recognised himself and hadn’t been sure that there would ever be a time when he felt happy again.

He’d wanted to give up, he’d been so close to it so many times, yet somewhere, buried deep inside, covered in dust and rust, nestled a tiny nugget of steely determination. He’d found that nugget and chipped away at its bonds, had polished it and nurtured it as best he could until finally he had succeeded.

His recovery list had been almost as extensive as his injuries. He’d undergone all the common therapies such as targeted physiotherapy, smaller follow on surgeries, several aborted attempts at hydrotherapy and a rather surprising foray into hippotherapy, along with daily strengthening exercises.

But all of that had been just about bearable, physical pain and endurance was almost second nature to him, it was the mental side that had been the hardest to push past. Slowly, slowly, day by day he had become physically stronger while growing mentally weaker.

The more his body healed, the longer he was out of hospital, the more of his memories he'd regained, and with them came the darkness. Counselling had been arranged, PTSD had been diagnosed and he’d faced yet another uphill battle to rediscover the person he truly was.

He sighed, stopping for a moment to rest before he entered the hangar itself. Could he honestly say that he felt like himself again? The answer was no. No one could go through the trauma that he had suffered and not change in some way or another. No one could face death head on, shake it by the hand, politely decline its invitation and still be one hundred present themselves.

You need to find your new normal, you need to find yourself again. That had been the words that his third therapist had told him. Joel had been the only therapist he had clicked with, the only one that truly seemed to understand him and the way his brain worked, that or he was the only one to have bothered trying.

Finding your new normal, giving yourself permission to change, adapt and accept that something horrific had happened to you and that you would come out the other side a different person to the one that had gone in, that was to be expected. Joel had helped him see that, along with his family, friends and the medical staff that had supported him on his long, winding journey.

He’d gotten a little lost along the way a time or two, he’d back tracked, stopped to rest and had to drag himself back to his feet more times that he could count. But he’d done it. He hadn’t given up no matter how many times he had wanted to, no matter how many times he had been tempted to just roll over and let life continue to screw him over.

This was it, the moment of truth, the moment where he would sink or swim, the moment where he would decide once and for all if all his hard work had been worth it.

He took a deep breath and rounded the corner, leaving the shelter and protection of the tunnel corridor behind him, stepping into the hangars for the first time since he’d left the island 18 months ago, after his annual leave, preparing to return to WASP. 18 months that could be broken down into two months in the testing division, four months in hospital and twelve gruelling months of recovery. All leading up to this moment.

He walked in, Alan, Scott and John moving in formation to flank him, solid and dependable, as they had always been. They continued the distance as one, a close knit group that he knew would always have his back. The only one missing was Virgil.

“You ready, little bro?” on cue the booming bass of his brother’s voice came over the external speakers of Two to fill the hangar.

Knowing Virgil wouldn’t be able to hear him he settled for a double thumbs up. He was practically vibrating with anticipation, having to fight the urge to bounce up and down in excitement.

He heard the mechanical whirring as Two began her assent, lifting up on her support struts to reveal the door to the module, one that was painted with a big, white number Four. Slowly, almost as if it were happening in slow motion, the door lowered, creating the ramp way that the pod vehicles would descend.

His breath caught in his throat as the inside lights of the module turned on, revealing its contents.

“It’s...she’s....so yellow,” he stuttered, unable to think of anything else to say. There she was, his little bird, painted a bright, cheery yellow, her fin sticking bolt upright like a happy tail. The same little snub nose that had so enchanted him was now fitted out with high powered lights that would allow him to see in the darkest of depths. She was bright, she was gorgeous, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She was…

“Perfect,” he breathed.

He couldn’t look away, not to take in the happy and somewhat relieved smiles on his siblings faces, not to look at Brains who seemed to have magically materialised by his side to start giving him a technical rundown, not for anything.

Nothing could compare to this.

“So, was she worth it?” Scott asked as Gordon reached out to lovingly stroke the curved perfection of one engine.

Gordon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The past year might have been the worst of his life, he knew that he would carry those memories with him forever, that he would continue to dream of waking up in that hospital bed again. He knew that things would never be the same for him, he was forever changed but, out of the darkness of his worst memories there was his little sub of hope.

“This is the best day of my life,” he sighed to himself as he settled in her seat, feeling the way it seemed to mould to his body with his exact specifications. This feeling right here, this made it all worth it. And he knew that one day in the not too distant future someone out there would see a flash of bright yellow in the darkness and know that same feeling of hope. They would know that help was on the way.

Because that's what International Rescue did, they defied the odds, they did the impossible and they never gave up.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 1965 #Gordon Tracy #grandma tracy #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #alan tracy

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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These People in This Room (Don't Shine Like You) (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

summary: Lawrence has just been crowned the winner of RuPaul’s Drag Race UK, and Ellie is right beside her. Just like she’s always been.

a/n: omg HIIIIII! here’s my entry to the fic challenge (will it be my only one? who can say). in a shocking turn of events this is not a drabble asdfghjk but would we have expected anything concise from me? this fic was inspired by Shine and Starstruck, both by Years and Years. they are very diamond chaney songs so pls do give them a little listen for full effect! standard procedure, she/her pronouns bc they’re in drag, u know the drill. this has taken me entirely too long to write but pls enjoy some diamond chaney from the night of the crowning! (pls also collectively pretend they had an actual dancefloor to celebrate on and not just a hotel room bc i had already started writing at the point Ellie posted her BTS. fic is just one big serving of pretend anyway xo)

***

It’s somewhere around midnight, the sun has set on Thursday and Friday has crept in, and Lawrence is sitting in a booth with the dancefloor flashing bright colours in front of her, only just daring to believe that this is her actual life.

There is not a single moment that seems real. Even being one of the top four took her essentially since filming stopped to come to terms with. But hearing her name being read out, hearing the other girls cheer for her and being able to do nothing but stare at the screen in disbelief with her hands over her mouth and sob like a baby…that’s not sunk in yet. Maybe it never will. She’s still feeling the after-effects from the way the shock and euphoria had kicked seven shades of shit out of her pulse, the way the serotonin had crashed over her like a wave and the absolute unbridled lack of control she’d had over any of her emotions.

When the cameras had been cut off and they’d been given the all-clear from the producers that they could hug each other, Lawrence had only managed to stand up from the chair, still in floods of tears as Bimini bundled their arms around her, Tayce had jostled them all with the way she’d jumped up and down and yelled in delight, and Ellie had looped her arms around her neck and murmured into her shoulder, words Lawrence couldn’t hear but felt the love from regardless.

It had to be Ellie, really, that crowned her. It was a full-circle moment. She still remembers the night they met for the first time; Dundee in 2016, some time in the early hours of the morning (she’d probably called it ‘bastard o’clock’ or something similar), coming out of the bar and being stopped by a boy in half-drag similar ages with her who spoke rapidly and excitedly and told her that he’d messaged her about starting drag and she’d replied to him. The way realisation had dawned on her and the way she’d been her usual loud and boisterous self to cover up the fact she’d actually been quite bashful about the fact they were meeting for the first time.

There was no alternative, not least because of everything they’ve been through together; the years leading up to this moment and the rollercoaster it’s all been. She’s glad that they’re on a high because they’ve seen each other at their lows (been the cause of each others’ too, sometimes) and pulled through only slightly scathed, but always stronger. The producer had asked Lawrence who she’d wanted and when she, still speechless, had pointed in Ellie’s direction, seeing the tears start to stream down her face had only made Lawrence’s start all over again. They’d hugged- just the two of them this time- and the way Ellie had immediately felt like a safe place in the crazy chaos of reality reminded Lawrence so much of when they had filmed. The way even just hearing Ellie’s voice would stop her feeling homesick, the way she was a living comfort blanket.

She’d never tell that to Ellie, of course, because she’d never hear the end of it if she did.

It’s been a couple of hours and Lawrence is expecting everything to suddenly sink in any minute now. Something will click like the last piece of a puzzle and she’ll finally accept that she’s won, that the whole thing isn’t a giant and premature April fools’ prank. She turns her phone over in her hand, wondering what all this nervous energy is doing to her body chemistry. She’s got messages from her family, her friends, Kiko, the girls she works with back home. Well…some of them. But apart from reading them and frantically replying, Lawrence hasn’t checked anything else; hasn’t opened Twitter or Instagram, where the notifications are piling up like pizza leaflets through a letterbox and are equally as unwanted. If she thinks about them she can feel her stomach twist, wrung out like a wet towel.

Forty thousand likes. The Team Bimini tweet had forty thousand likes. What did her own get? Eight thousand? Lawrence thinks about the sheer scale of forty thousand people, compares it to the population of towns in Scotland. Almost Airdrie. Just under Coatbridge. She imagines a whole town of people, angry and furious and disappointed, and all of them tweeting her to let her know exactly that. She remembers in high school when she thought the whole of Hermitage was against her. She wants to tell baby Lawrence that that was fucking small fry. A thousand kids? Try the sheer scale of Bimini’s fanbase. Her breath is shaky when she tries to breathe in, like her lungs have reduced in size. It reminds her of that time in school camp when they all had to jump from a pier for some unknown-fucking-reason, how freezing the water had been and how her chest felt tight as she gasped for air. Lawrence supposes it was character building in the sense that it prepared her exactly for how anxiety would make her feel later in life.

In for four. Hold for five. Out for six.

“There she is!”

An ever so slightly slurred and wobbly voice breaks Lawrence’s reverie, and when she looks up she sees Ellie approaching her, a little unsteady even in the flats she’s changed into with a glass of prosecco in each hand. It says a lot that even at the top of a helter-skelter of an anxiety spiral, Lawrence’s heart still gives a little swell when she sees her friend. Ellie has always been able to make her feel better. She feels an almost silly sense of relief that she’s here.

Lawrence takes one last little breath in before plastering a small smile to her face. “Awrite? Where’s Mumma Diamond?”

“In her room conked out. Just got back from putting her to bed, she couldn’t hack it. Letting down the family name, that one,” Ellie huffs, sliding into the booth and squashing up right beside Lawrence, even though there’s enough space for two metres distance even if they had still been under strict instructions from the BBC.

“Tayce?” Lawrence asks, gratefully accepting the prosecco glass and hurriedly downing a too-big gulp in an attempt to calm herself down.

“Facetiming A’whora. Of course.”

“Of course. Maybe a bottle and a half of prosecco is gonny be the love potion she never knew she needed.”

“Fuck, we can only hope,” Ellie grins, already laughing through her words. “If we’re gonna be touring with them I don’t wanna have to karate chop through five layers of sexual tension every time I have to walk past them.”

Lawrence chuckles, tired but humoured and unable to not make the so-obvious joke. “You couldny fight sleep.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’ll fight you in a minute!” Ellie nudges her with her shoulder and spills both of their prosecco from the glasses in their hands. The gesture is affectionate and out of place with the impending threat. “Where’s Bims? Thought they were with you.”

Lawrence shrugs. “Went out for a smoke with one of the runners about twenty minutes ago and never returned.”

“Good for them. Always thought there’s something inherently sexy about a winch in a back alley.”

“Well, you would know.”

“Eh, so would you!” Ellie cries, nothing short of incredulously offended. Her expression makes her look even more like a cartoon character than usual, and it’s entirely too endearing.

“Yeah, forgot that popular phrase. It takes two to winch in a back alley,” Lawrence jokes, but her heart isn’t in it. It’s too heavy and her ribcage feels like someone laced her into a corset and pulled it too tight. She’s hoping Ellie is too drunk to notice.

Ellie sips her prosecco with her eyes on her, then scrutinises her as she swallows it. She frowns, her nose wrinkling up as she prods Lawrence with an acrylic-nail finger. “What’s up?”

Fuck.

“The sky,” Lawrence says without conviction, and the raised eyebrow Ellie gives her in return is enough to unlock her. She deflates like a balloon and brings her phone up so Ellie can see it, turning it over in her hands. “Just…as happy as I am, and as much as this is all a dream come true…I keep psyching myself up to open any social media, and I can’t, because this one fucking brain cell of anxiety keeps telling me that everyone out there hates me and hates the fact I’ve won.”

Ellie’s face falls into a frown. She gently pries the phone out of her hands and places it on the table, takes one of Lawrence’s free hands in hers and rubs her thumb over her knuckles. “But all your other brain cells know that’s wrong.”

Lawrence sighs. “So why’s that one louder than all the rest?”

Ellie presses her lips together in a badly-suppressed smile. She’s giggling as she speaks. “Because you’ve only got two brain cells.”

Lawrence splutters a laugh, shoving Ellie with her free hand. The other is still laced together with hers. As the laughter dies down and the momentary serotonin wears off, Lawrence can feel her brow furrowing involuntarily. “Forty thousand people wanted Bimini to win, Ellie. Forty thousand. You know that’s like a whole town? That’s like the population of Coatbridge?”

“ Fuck Coatbridge!” Ellie exclaims, affronted, and her shock and insistence makes Lawrence snort all over again. “Okay, forty thousand people is a town but really, what’s that to the rest of the world? Think how tiny that is in the grand scheme of things, Lawrence! Honestly, give a fuck about what any bastard who wants to send you anything vile thinks of you! You’re so amazing! You won! Fuck everyone else!”

Lawrence wants to feel cheered up. The prosecco Ellie’s drunk is making her all the more animated and lively, giving her words a determination and a passion that her speech so rarely possesses most of the time. Ellie is calm, and she doesn’t get wound up easily. There’s something about the fact she’s growing this animated over getting Lawrence to believe in herself that warms her heart a little.

Then again…

“It’s not just that, though. There’s girls from home that haven’t even said well done. Girls I’ve always supported and couldn’t do enough for, and it’s like…really? You can’t be happy for me when I’ve actually managed to do the one thing I’ve wanted to do for years?”

“Well maybe they have said well done, and you’ve just not seen it because you’ve been hiding,” Ellie gestures matter-of-factly at her phone. It doesn’t convince her.

“They won’t have. You’ll know who I’m talking about, Ellie.”

Ellie sighs a little, clearly conceding that Lawrence is right. Her grip on her hand tightens a little, and when Lawrence looks up at her in response her blue eyes hold a glint of assurance.

“Well, even if they haven’t…fuck ‘em. Onwards and upwards, chick. You’ve got ten new sisters out of this who’re always going to know what it’s like, they’re gonna be here for you no matter what,” Ellie says comfortingly. Lawrence knows why she’s said ten and not eleven, but Ellie affirms this with another squeeze and a slightly shy smile. “And you’ve always got me. You’ve always had me.”

This is true. She’s always had Ellie. Before the show, doing gigs with her and hanging out with her and going to DragCon with her. On the show, always there to reassure her or pull her out of a negative spiral or just lean against her shoulder and squeeze her hand. And after the show. Whatever that might look like. Whatever that might be.

She supposes that neither of them know yet.

“C’mon,” Ellie says decisively, holding out a hand for her as the song changes. It’s some sort of Paolo Nutini dirge, and Lawrence has to laugh at how obviously whoever is in charge of the music has rushed to attempt to find something Scottish. Lawrence can only blink at Ellie’s outstretched hand.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Come on! ” Ellie laughs. Lawrence doesn’t know if she’s blushing or if it’s just the lights.

But she does know that she can’t leave Ellie hanging when she’s looking at her like that.

So Lawrence lets herself be dragged out to the dancefloor and pulled into a hug as Ellie sways them left to right ever-so-slightly out of time with the song, tipsy and full of affection given the way her arms are locked around Lawrence’s waist. It should feel stranger than it does. In reality, being held by Ellie feels as simple as just existing.

Or perhaps simpler than that, given the fact that Lawrence’s existence feels entirely surreal right now.

“You have to be in drag for half past se-ven,” Ellie sing-songs, bringing one of her arms out from around Lawrence’s waist and tapping her on the nose. Lawrence immediately misses it, so it’s a relief that it’s not gone for long.

“Because I wo-on,” Lawrence imitates back to her, and the way Ellie squeezes her waist in response and affirmation causes a smile and a blush to bloom on her face without her even being to control it. She rests her head against Ellie’s chest so she can’t have the satisfaction (ammunition) of seeing how she makes her feel.

It’s little moments like that that she needs right now. Anchors to keep her down on earth, to let her know that this isn’t just some really prolonged lucid dream and it’s all actually happening because currently reality is so absurdly ridiculous; she’s just won Drag Race and she’s slow-dancing with Ellie to the song that’s blasting through the speakers in the background, a parody of some American high school prom where she’s just been crowned the queen.

Moments like these- where Ellie’s holding her close as if she’s literally trying to protect her from the world- remind her that not everybody is against her. Not everybody hates her. Not everybody is wishing her a slow and painful death because Bimini didn’t win, least of all them. She knows that Ellie was never able to share what team she was on even though she hadn’t had a chance at the crown, but she didn’t have to. Not really. They’ve always been on each others’ team.

Ellie jolts Lawrence out of her daydream with the way her chest is shuddering, and Lawrence momentarily thinks she’s crying again before her soft giggle becomes audible over the music.

“What?” Lawrence tilts her head up, meeting Ellie’s scheming, smirking face.

“Can’t believe RuPaul Charles asked if you wanted to move to London, city of dreams, city of a thousand opportunities…” Ellie begins, Lawrence already laughing as she knows what the conclusion to her sentence will be. “…and you said, ‘yer awrite pal, am fine in Glesga wi the jakes an’ the Blue Lagoon chippy an’ the guy that stands on Buchanan Street and yells at everyone that they’re going to hell!’ ”

Lawrence would normally roll her eyes at Ellie’s impersonation of her accent, but she’s laughing too much at the joke that’s forming in her head to commit to it. “RuPaul asked if I wanted to move to London, and I said…”

The pair of them are almost giggling too much to get the punchline out, Ellie clocking on to how it’s going to end. In sync, the pair of them splutter out a “… NNNNAAW! ”

Giddy and happy, Lawrence rests her cheek against Ellie’s chest again. “London’s got junkies too, anyway.”

“This is gonna sound really selfish, but…don’t actually move to London,” Ellie’s voice murmurs from above her, and there’s something plaintive to it that makes Lawrence refrain from replying with a joke or a barb like she normally would. The way Ellie follows it up cements that fact. “It would probably be so good for you, but like…Glasgow would be lost without you, genuinely. And so would I.”

Lawrence can’t cry again tonight, even if it’s only because she thinks it’s physically impossible, so she just squeezes Ellie tight until she worries about her ability to breathe. “I’m not going anywhere, hen.”

Lawrence doesn’t even really know what they are, her and Ellie. They both still have Grindr and they talk about their hookups and raised hopes and broken hearts with each other like friends. But they’re not really just that. They’re affectionate, and they open up to each other with the same shared unspoken understanding of something Lawrence doesn’t understand. They hug for too long and cuddle up to each other when they’re together, and Lawrence can’t count the amount of times during filming that she’d find strength in the way Ellie would squeeze her hand without a word. They’ve woken up together too many times (why she’d felt the need to remind Ellie of that while the cameras were rolling, she’ll never know) and kissed each other more than that. Every time they say I love you they mean it, but they also mean a little bit more. There’s no butterflies or fast pulses or fluttering hearts- they’re past that stage. Everything is just natural and normal and easy.

She wonders if they’ll ever put a label on what they have. There’s a part of her that doesn’t ever want to.

“If we’re both still single by the time we’re forty,” Lawrence begins, leaning back to look at Ellie through her glazed, half-drunk half-tired eyes. “…we should just say ‘fuck it’ and get married.”

(She doesn’t even know if it’s a joke or not.)

Ellie laughs as if it is and nods as if it isn’t. “Drag wedding. We’d need to upstage Tayce and A’whora, though.”

Lawrence realises something. “I’ll turn forty two years before you.”

There’s a pause as the song starts to fade out, and it makes Ellie’s murmur seem louder than it is. “That’s okay. We don’t need to wait for me.”

The jolt her words give Lawrence’s heart and the way Ellie’s talking as if it’s an actual plan makes her think maybe it wasn’t really ever a joke after all. It’s ridiculous though, and it’s all theoretical, and it’s a totally hypothetical scenario, and they’re both drunk , for Christ’s sake. So Lawrence pulls out of Ellie’s arms and takes her hands in her own, the song that’s started playing more upbeat and the opening chords inciting some sort of hope and optimism in her heart for the future that’s unfolding for the pair of them.

“One more song then bed?” she suggests. Ellie raises her eyebrows as she looks down at her.

“Whose bed?”

“Shut the fuck up, Dirty Diamond,” Lawrence shoots back without missing a beat, and as the first lines of the song fill the room she leans back and begins to spin the pair of them in a circle, both of them laughing as if everything is as simple as just that room, and the music blaring out from the speakers, and the lights flashing above them drenching them in purple and pink.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ellie diamond #lawrence chaney #ellie x lawrence #fic challenge #rare pair #uk2 #canon compliant #fluff #ortega #these people in this room (don’t shine like you)

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ahmedmootaz · 4 years

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Drakken and Shego: The Shippening: Finale.

You can probably see that I’m running out of ideas for titles. In any case, folks, y’all probably thought I was gone, eh? You thought I stopped my shipping of these two? You thought the Tazmanian Intelligence Forces finally got me after such a long time? Well you thought wrong! Here I am, still writing about these two dorks, and here’s a small compilations of the moments I found to be cute between the two of them, for what will unfortunately be the last time, I’m afraid, but hey, at least Graduation was wholly amazing. Really, it’s one of my favorite finales to a series so far. But enough monologuing, I watched this show enough to learn how much it can ruin a man, let’s just get into it.

Starting with “Odds Man In”, in which Drakken and Shego open up a...cupcake business. Man, even the summary of this episode can be enough to half-fuel the Titanic. Honestly though, the re-introduction of Hank was a nice call-back, and now he has a better job. Truly a self-made man right there. In any case, I like how Drakken and Shego seem to just have this...thing of casual Friday. I mean, honestly, the way Shego reacted wasn`t surprised or even mocking; she`s already had this conversation before, as in, Drakken has a usual casual Friday. That`s honestly pretty cute. Even though I`m entirely certain Shego would never participate, but at least he`s confident enough around her to wear as he wishes. And, to an extent, she’s nice enough to go with it, which is unheard of for Shego.Then the whole promotion part with Shego, which is what I expected of her to be honest. In fact, her entire dynamic with Drakken this episode appeals to me mostly because of how well they seem to have adapted to each other`s weaknesses and how they`re kinda-maybe-not really getting along well. Also, the ending segment is fairly nice with how Drakken simply invites Shego to help him with the cupcakes. Knowing him, I’d have thought he’d have acted less “Can we please just finish these things?” and more “I made these so they are mine and mine only!”. Though I do wonder how he got rid of the extra calories he gained. Talk about high-metabolism.

Leaving Drakken to burn those calories like he burns people with his raps, we now move onto “Stop Team Go.”, an epsiode I’m certain many put on their ‘Favorite Episodes’ list, and not without good reason. Of course, the main point of the episode was to explore the strange, unimaginable and yet intriguing idea of what would happen if Shego was basically Kim but with superpowers. I enjoyed the return of Team Go, the expansion of their proper storyline and such, and I definitely did not mind seeing Ron go back to becoming Lord Zorpox, even if for a brief moment. But I suppose the real reason we’re all here is Drakken and Shego, eh? Can’t blame ya’. So the side-plot with Drakken and the pickle jar was more than entertaining, but you know what I noticed? Drakken’s immediate assumption that Shego was there during the morning. At breakfast. I mean, come on, people, does anyone here regularly have breakfast with their boss? Well, in any case, even after her abandoning him time and time again throughout this series, Drakken is either gullible enough or so trusting to the point where he considers this all to be a little...prank. He spends all the day trying to open the pickle jar and imitate Darth Vader, but he doesn’t doubt her. At all. I find that rather nice on his part after everything they’re been through together. I quite liked seeing Shego and Kim interact without trying to cut each other’s throats for once (Mr.Barking crushing on Shego was...It...I-I...Listen, he can dream big, alright? I ain’t stopping him, but...I don’t really think it...uh...worked, for a lack of a better term...He didn’t quite deserve angry guard dogs on him but...I think it was best for him to let go...) but after the dust had settled and Electronique was back in jail, one thing got me hooked: “SHEEEEEEGO! I NEEEEED YOU!”. C’mon, Doc, you’re her boss. Couldn’t you have said something more...strict and bossy? “Oh, there you are, Shego!”, for example? Bah, whether or not he was speaking solely about the gherkin jar is entirely up for debate...heh. I also liked the fact that in what I can only presume to be their spare time, they actually sit together in a single room. Not much talking, but at least they’re getting along. Maybe they can even start a chat or two.

Heading onto “Cap’n Drakken”, where I didn’t really find much in the term of shipping. Perhaps their little chat in their underwater lab, but it was standard at this point in time. I suppose it does give more room for personal writing and headcanons now that we know that Drakken has underwater labs in addition land ones, so there’s that. I cannot really consider anything Drakken does when he’s possessed as...him, to put it simply, although I did appreciate Mr.Barkin`s shenanigans during the episode. Also Kim saving our lovable blue man after he nearly drowns was nice on her part. Thanks for not letting Drakken die a horrible and painful death, Princess. I would`ve liked a joke or two about Mr.Barkin recognizing Shego as Ms.Go and Shego actually trying to help Drakken instead of blasting him off the boat because he ticked her off...But I suppose what she did was very...Shego of her. Couldn`t have expected anymore on her behalf.

And now, we explore “The Mentor Of Our Discontent.” where....Frugal Lucre is back?...Goodness, Frugal Lucre IS back! I almost forgot about him! Good on ya’, man. Though I don’t suppose Drakken was too happy about it...And Shego telling Frugal about what irks Drakken the most while disguising it as his most beloved things? Typical. Nice bit of teasing, though. Her saving them from their near-doom was also a nice on her parts. I also liked the small bit of continuity where Shego reminds (read: practically yells at) Drakken that his past robot-related idea was a bust...Which...I mean...she’s not wrong, but it’s not the robots themselves that failed, it was him...well, tying Kim effing Possible with a regular rope to what seemed like a piece of cardboard. Also...”Oh no: They’re bonding!”...Shego, is that...jealousy, I sense? Most likely not, in fact it’s probably my shipping senses tingling once more, but SHHHHHH. In any case, she probably didn’t want Drakken knowing anyone else since...well, they’d render her obsolete; how many people does Drakken know and interact with on a daily basis? Not many, I would presume. The plan was...well, it could’ve worked, certainly, but...trying to seduce Jeff Bezos? Yeah, not...too likely...Honestly, the way Shego and Drakken argued this episode, it seemed as if she wanted more...recognition? Appreciation? Never thought she’d be after that, but I suppose she does deserve some, no? Also...Shego with yellow hair? Yeah, not really working out for ya’ with the whole...green skin thing...Yeah, I’ll stop. Also, unlike some people, I actually think Jeff dodged a big, flaming plasma bullet when Shego left him for good. Who knows, he might’ve woken up with a large burn wound and empty pockets. Also no real-estate value. At least she was nice enough to save Drakken and Frugal after this bust of a plot, no? Otherwise we wouldn’t see them in the following episodes? Oh, shut up, I’ll think what I want!

Alsoalsoalso, and this is extremely important: Shego loves hydrangeas! Hey, everyone has a soft-spot, and apparently, Shego is no different. Extremely important you guys. Think of the fanfiction potential!

And now, sliding onto “Clean Slate”, we have Drakken discovering what it’s like to start forgetting about the most essential of things while remembering everything else for a plan. You know, I could’ve sworn I saw a character like that before, though he was nowhere near as likable as Drakken...Oh. Wait. Sorry, my fault. That’s just me. Also, good on you for calling out the exposition, Shego, just as a true friend should for their boss!...Okay also for a sidekick but shut up. Anyways, Drakken tries to amplify his thinking by stealing a thinking machine and...Honestly? His dialogue and banter with Shego throughout the way there is simply amazing. The first scene with the pair of them in the lab after the day-off was just brilliant; I could not tell you just how unsurprising it was that Drakken watches “Ballroom With B Actors”. No surprise at all. Their banter was surprisingly...un-bitter? I mean, yeah, Shego was being her usual self, go figure, but Drakken wasn’t reacting nearly as vengefully as he would...Hmm...Also, why does Shego care if Drakken becomes a list-guy or not? Why does she care if he becomes lame? She is only the sidekick, no? She shouldn’t be concerned about how lame or not he is, eh? Also, personal experience has taught me that these papers are actually life-savers so...lameness for the win? And the hospital scene was quite nice too. The bowling with the henchmen part got a giggle out of me, but I liked how Shego was (slightly) invested in the mission itself. I mean, she actually took the lead, helped Drakken fit the pieces...these things. Also, what I wouldn’t do for a card that just says “Oh snap.”. Their second scene at the lair was also very nice, mostly because of how natural(?) everything felt...I mean...Once more, they’ve started interacting less like boss-and-sidekick and more like equals...In fact, Shego doesn’t immediately quip back when Drakken boasts about his plan in front of her. Which is honestly something unheard of for Shego. And again with the serum creation part, where the lippy-ness and everything else just becomes...naturalized. I mean, heck, “geek!”? That’s the best insult Shego can come up with? Though I have to agree with her about the fool-proof part; the more you say it, the more it is jinxed, my man. And then, the plan itself. which...well...I mean...Just one part. So close. So close. I liked the small quip with “Settle down,”, implying that he needs Shego to...well...calm down. I don’t like stating the obvious but here I am. Unfortunately, Shego’s friendliness doesn’t last all too long (When has it ever?) and she abandons Drakken when the train is about to explode. Same old Shego. At least she came back for him, though. I respect that at least.

Alsoalsoalso, can we give it to Dr.D that he took a major level in awesomeness?! I mean, Shego just deserted him, he was about to be overrun by (an admittedly weakened) Kim Possible, but instead of yelling or running away, he fights back! You go, Dr.D...even though it didn’t turn out all that great...But did you folks see just how glorious his coat looked while it fluttered in the wind? The stuff of dreams. Also the fact that he managed to survive a head-on collision with a hard surface at about 150 Km/h without having Newton’s Third Law obliterate him deserves an award in and out of itself.

Alright, so the next episode that features them only has them in the end credit, but I’m going to use that ocne scene for my argument anyways! Why does Drakken, I don’t know, talk to Shego about lair decoration? I mean, come on, is that a normal thing? And Shego peacefully reading without any snark...just informing Drakken of what’s happening. It was a nice display of companionship and trust after everything they’ve been through. I believe it was also one of they very few scenes with the two of them without any actual snark. Which sets the mood perfectly for:

“Graduation.”. Alright, this one is self-explanatory. We’ve heard it all; an amazing wrap-up, fantastic conclusion to the characters we loved to much (even if I did hate having to bid this show farewell...) and most of all ship-fuel. Oh, goodness, so much ship-fuel. Let’s start with the first scene, with Drakken and Shego in their lab again as he...turns into a Flower?...Just imagining how they’d deal with that is fluffy enough...Oh, also, why was Shego just...taking a bath right there and then? I get that it’s cold up there, but come on, isn’t that just a great display of trust? Could you possibly imagine this would just be done in a regular employee-employer relationship? We’ll skip momentarily over the admittedly nice and thought-provoking Kim-part to go straight to the jungle lair, where our favorite duo is...teasing each-other. The small, genuine smile on Shego’s face sells their friendship to me, and once more, imagining a day where Shego needs to deal with Drakken’s flower is fluffy beyond all belief. And then the alien tower-robot drops in. And then he gets abducted. I’ll gloss over his adorable monologue about his mother and cut to Shego’s horrified expression. That absolute terror on her face when Dr.D’s being dragged away from her. Pretty caring of her, dont’cha think? And her only worry when seeing the alien beacon near them is their lair being found out...seems like Drakken transmitted his interests to her pretty well.

Alright, so the second, more amazing part. Firstly, Shego being so bloody adamant on finding Drakken warms my heart like she warmed those machines’ metal legs, I mean goodness! That’s someone on a mission right there! Amd her absolute resolve to just go out to space to save Drakken...Yep, definitely more to her than the gloating, teasing, snarky Shego we all know and love. Putting aside the amusing interactions between Drakken and Kimmy, we’ll move onto one of the most iconic scenes so far, and one that has been unfortunately spoiled to me, the near-hug between Drakken and Shego. I...I knew from the day I first saw that this would be great to watch. Just...So close! The hesitation signaled to me that they didn’t quite know how the other one felt, so they called it off as to not get ‘awkweird’. Even their bickering afterwards feels less like bickeing and more like...talk. Old married couple snark, if you will. So after a small jog they run into...Warhawk and Warmonga. Who then proceed to perceive them as a couple. Listen, I’m not an expert on romantics, but when an alien race who has only seen you for a single day and thinks you’re a couple...well...inter-galactic shipping cannot be wrong, eh? And Shego’s rebuttal of these caims, while fierce is...well...as Warhawk elegantly put it “A river of Denial.”. Also, notice how Drakken made no effort to argue with Warmonga’s claims. And then their little co-operation at the lab...if I remember correctly, someone had posted a now-deleted script for this scene that was far more amical. Also far more shippy. And now, we head onto how they save the world together. Firstly, Shego’s introduction of Drakken really feels like how she’d act if she was a typical sidekick, finding glory in every bit of Drakken’s plans. Of course, this is Shego we’re talking about, so this must be something...Good on ya’ Dr.D. Also, and I noticed this through the insight of @bcbdrums ‘ post, but have you noticed that the flowers that bloom are blue and green? Hmm? Is this signaling something, Drakken? Perhaps he signaled it a little too close in the final moments, if that also-iconic scene is anything to go by! I just stopped in my tracks for a moment when it came to him and Shego...Plant-hugging. This is almost everything I wanted. And the smile...it just sells a lot to me. Also how happy Shego looks for Drakken. And on that note, I adore that this is the last we see them together, leaving the rest for our questionably sane minds to fill.

So that was it, folks. Kim Possible. What an amazing journey, huh? It was all-around amazing, and Drakken and Shego (and their shippiness!) only added to it. Such a magnificent adventure this has been, and I wish you all enjoyed it with me, even when I went MIA to hide from Tazmanian Intelligence also because I was lazy , once again, thank you. Every single one of you. Your opinions are welcome.

Alsoalsoalso, I wrote a Fanfic! Check it out here and write your opinions about that because...well, it means a lot to me. The Fic:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20329315/chapters/48201205

#Kim Possible #dr. drakken #shego #drakgo #shippy stuff

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beybladeimagines · 4 years

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Your writing is sooo good! :o have been following you for a short while now and you do the requests so perfectly! Was wondering if it would be possible to get some family related headcanons for the blade breakers? Like your thoughts on how they interact with their families? Also congrats on the new job role! :)

Mod Note: Thank you so much, bby! I hope you’re doing well and are having an amazing start to your new year. :)

TYSON: Tyson has a very interesting relationship and take on his family. First things first, we have to acknowledge how his father and brother essentially left him behind and forced his grandfather to raise him. These are the ugly facts, but Tyson kind of…pushes that out of his mind. I imagine, in an attempt to cope with this abandonment, he decided to appropriate the narrative that he was exposed to. In other words, he told himself that sometimes people need to leave others behind if they’re going to achieve their dreams - but he always told himself that they’d come back, because… why wouldn’t they? He’s tried to convince himself that all of these things happened for a reason. Although Tyson attempts to be optimistic about his situation and claims it doesn’t affect him negatively, he has become rather clingy and takes people leaving him rather personally. He loves his grandfather and although Tyson travels a lot, he greatly encourages his grandfather to come see just about every match he’s in. And grandpa does just that… He goes to every match, watches it on TV, and thinks about his grandson often. He really worries about him. And although he loves his own son and Hiro unconditionally, he doesn’t want Tyson to pick up on the same habits as them.

When Tyson sees Hiro again, he’s elated in such a way that we’ve never seen before. We don’t see that much emotion when his own team comes back together. I think Tyson has always known that his friends would come back to him, but when it comes to family… He was probably deeply terrified that he’d never see them again. He holds Hiro to such a high standard and once saw him as someone who could do no wrong. After all, he returned to help him train and become world champion, right? Well… Hiro has some questionable ways of pushing Tyson. As an outsider, their interactions aren’t that healthy and are borderline manipulative. Tyson slowly begins to see this, but doesn’t allow himself to really showcase his disappointment. However, it does motivate him to become a better person and to not let his own team down. Think about it. Throughout G-Rev, we see Tyson’s selfishness and how he’s constantly trying to improve. And then Hiro comes along and is basically doing whatever he wants at Tyson’s expense. Tyson gets to see, first hand, just how much his own actions deeply hurt others. He doesn’t want to be like his brother anymore, or probably his own dad. He’s more likely to keep his grandfather close (even closer now, after all the bullshit) and see his own friends as family members.

MAX: In the manga, you really see just how much Max loves and misses his mom. He gets defensive about her picture, and often locks himself in his room to reflect upon his memories of her. You can tell it’s still a fresh wound and not one that he simply internalizes like Tyson. The sad truth is, she kinda left him behind as well to do her own thing. Additionally, she essentially formed a brand new team that consisted of children who’s only goal was to meet her expectations. Upon seeing this, Max honestly felt like he had to compete for his own mothers attention and approval, despite being her blood. Instead of being devastated by this blatant act of being replaced, Max actually continues to strive for her approval. He truly sees her as someone who can do no wrong and he probably interprets her actions as her motivating him to become stronger. It’s not that Judy doesn’t like her son… Rather, I think she’s so wrapped up in her work that she’s literally forgotten how to raise a child. Alternatively, maybe she just wasn’t ready, maybe she never knew how, maybe she placed that burden on Max’s dad because she was making good money for them. Regardless, something happened to make her so distant from her own child. She’s honestly surprised to see how persistent Max is for her affection.

I do imagine that it does impact her. I do think she loves him, but has a very strange and arguably cold way of showing it. However, Max is literally sunshine incarnate. He refuses to see her as something to hate and is extremely grateful for what she’s been able to do for him. Max’s father is also seen in a positive light. In truth, Max is so amazed by how hard his dad worked to raise him, put food on the table, support his hobby, and help him travel. There’s no denying the amount of love Max has for his own dad, but I think he clings to his mom so much, because he just wants there to be both. He doesn’t want one parent working more or harder than the other. He just craves a sense of stability where everyone is just…happy and here and eating at the same table without worrying about research or making deadlines. Although he gets along great with both folks, it’s evident that the dynamic does take a toll on him, but he thinks he has to keep smiling in order for everything to seem like its really okay.

RAY: We don’t know that much about his family, except for the uncle in France. However, we do know that he spent much of his childhood with his friends moreso than any blood relatives. I imagine Ray didn’t have much of a connection with his family. As a child, he’s somewhat of a wild one. He often goes where he pleases, does what he pleases, and most likely sneaks out just to see his friends for a little longer. Perhaps his parents just weren’t there, or maybe they didn’t approve of his newfound fascination for blading. When we find out that Ray left the White Tigers, we have to realize that this also means he left his entire village behind too (including his own home and family). And it was…relatively easy. I imagine he suspected he’d come across his team again, but he probably wasn’t too concerned with what his family thought. They probably thought he was reckless or maybe didn’t apply the same amount of significance to Driger. I’m not trying to imply that his family didn’t love him; rather, I think their ideas of success and genuine goals just clashed. Ray’s family most likely came to peace with his departure as years progressed. They’re probably mindful of his success, but do their best not to speak of it. Perhaps its out of embarrassment (like, they feel ashamed for not having more faith) or maybe they just don’t want to think about their son leaving them.

When Ray returns, I imagine the reunion is rather intense. Although his friends are the first to greet him, I suspect he came across his parents during the evening. They exchange moments of silence, but I envision his mother breaking down and wrapping her arms around Ray out of relief. This is probably one of the first times that his parents were vulnerable around him. Ray doesn’t really know how to feel, but he returns the hug anyway. A weight practically leaves him when they have this moment. Like they finally get it, like he doesn’t have to explain himself. I imagine they’re working on restoring a sense of normalcy amongst one another, but Ray’s actually really excited about having even more supportive forces in his life.

KAI: Kai actually…really fucking loves his family. I’ve only ever seen him smile when he was around them. Granted, there is a rather complicated and traumatic past concerning the relatives in his life. Kai wants nothing to do with his grandfather, although he appreciates the expensive opportunities and power that he gave him. Despite these “gifts,” Kai just wants to take everything from Voltaire, replace him, and show him how better off he is without his manipulative meddling. Kai is also in the process of rebuilding his connection with his father and seeing him in a better light. For so long, Kai thought that his father chose his dream over him, but this became another manipulated narrative spun by his own grandfather. Later on, Kai realized that his father just didn’t want to be like Voltaire and chose to follow his own path, which he hoped Kai would eventually do as well. Kai realizes the genuine intentions his father had and how he also wanted the best for him (and not just a bunch of random kids).

When it comes to his mother, I imagine Kai is extremely close with her. She was really trying her best to keep things stable in the house and give Kai the love he so desperately needed. I see him rejecting her efforts at first. He was probably worried that she’d leave him too. But she probably spent so many sleepless nights waiting up for him when he’d sneak out and making sure he had enough to eat. There were many times when she thought he’d never come home. She practically sunk to the floor with relief every time she cracked his bedroom door open and saw him there sleeping. Now that his family is back together and his life isn’t based off a series of lies, Kai actually looks forward to coming home. He’s rather quiet and actually avoids his parents gaze, especially at the dinner table. It’s when he’s with family that he realizes just how much crazy shit he’s done or gotten into - so he feels ashamed. His parents only look at him with complete pride and admiration. I imagine they hug him so tightly the moment he walks through the door and he’s got to fight back so many tears because damn… He feels the love and attention he’s been so desperately craving.

#beyblade #beyblade imagine #headcanon #bladebreakers #tyson granger #max mizuhara #max tate #ray kon #rei kon #kai hiwatari #Anonymous

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dippedanddripped · 4 years

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Eric Emanuel lives and works in New York’s Garment District, not too far from the factory where he makes his eponymous label.

“I set my whole life up here,” he says. “I live here, my office is here, the factories are here, and I get to see the madness all day.”

The madness occurs every Friday, where Emanuel releases a small drop of products on his website, where they usually last about a few seconds before selling out, much to the chagrin of his hundreds of thousands of Instagram followers. His line consists of many sportswear staples that characterize other independent streetwear labels: hoodies, T-shirts, sweatpants, and even some thermals in the cooler months. But the one thing he’s absolutely nailed? It’s gotta be the shorts.

Indeed, whether it’s solid colors or out-there prints that range from florals, paisleys, or an insane print of the New York City skyline, Emanuel has become synonymous with some of the best above-the-knee knickers on the market. And unlike the other New York Knickerbockers, Emanuel’s shorts have been big winners for his brand. In the past couple of years, he’s gone from hometown hero to global collab king, working with beverage companies like Mountain Dew, sneaker companies like adidas and Reebok, and now the Philadelphia 76ers basketball team on an array of covetable gear.

Emanuel’s personal uniform usually consists of a pair of his popular mesh shorts, a vintage tee, and a Yankees fitted. As a flex he’ll finish off the fit with a pair of his collaborative Reebok Club C sneakers, one of many models he’s done with the Boston-based sportswear label. But he’s also open to stepping up his game by switching it up with a pair of Gucci loafers, a clear co-sign of a trend that’s been spotted on Instagram. Then again, as Emanuel points out, part of the fun about his flagship product is it really isn’t that serious.

“I think that’s why the shorts have been such a success, because it’s not binary in the sense that you have to wear them in a certain way,” he says. “Wear it however you want, it’s a pair of mesh shorts.”

The king of shorts took a break from running his kingdom to talk about his rise to success, how he found his lane, and other project he has in the works. Ironically, it’s kind of a long story.

Where are you from Eric?

I’m from Syracuse originally, and then I moved here eight or nine years ago to go to FIT for marketing. Towards the end of my senior year I started making jerseys, and ended up running with that.

When did you start your label?

When I was getting out of school I didn’t want to go work somewhere, so I sort of just maneuvered — I was paying to make product off my credit card, I’d then move that balance to another card just waiting for that moment when a product would sell and I could pay the bill. Betting on myself, knowing some day it would work.

When does your shorts story begin?

The shorts would have been three years ago I think. I started with a heavier short — like a very traditional basketball short from Mitchell & Ness. But theirs wasn’t really what I wanted to wear. I didn’t like the big waistband; I didn’t like the weight. So I switched to something that’s practically my lacrosse short from high school — a very basic single layer short. That’s where I found success, but even so I would say it took until the end of last summer for it to really catch fire.

It seems when you do a drop every Friday it sells out instantly. Is that exhilarating or frustrating?

It’s frustrating. You would think that you’d be so excited to sell your product out in a day, that it should be this harmonious moment. Unfortunately, you have to deal with everyone who’s upset they didn’t get it. So I’m trying to find a balance of fulfilling the demand and going a little beyond it.

I had no idea this sort of “cozy revolution” would’ve taken over. Everything I’ve released over the past two months was made in the winter. The quantities were super low and it sold out way too fast. Then we had to stop making shorts for about two months and wait for New York to become a bit safer. It’s been a whirlwind.

How else has Covid-19 affected your business?

I pulled everything forward because I didn’t know where the economy was going. I didn’t know what was going to happen. And it sort of backfired in the sense that I ran out of product, and it wasn’t safe to continue making more until a month ago. That’s when we really hit the ground running. Everyone’s hungry to work, but it was very difficult to figure out how to do it in a safe manner. Now, whatever is made this week is being sold next week. And I’m very lucky that since I make the product in New York so I can sort of schedule it that way. In an ideal world, we would be six weeks ahead.

It’s pretty ballsy to call your product “The Best Shorts in the World,” but there it is printed on the packaging. What separates your shorts from others on the market?

I focused on a product that not necessarily everyone cared about. People would run shorts here and there, but it was never their core item. Instead of starting with a T-Shirt, I went into a market where there was less competition figured out how to own that. Why is it the best short? I think it’s because it’s essentially your favorite short, but a bit elevated. It falls little bit above the knee, you can size up if you want it to be baggier, and it just wears well.

There’s something for everyone. I personally like solid colors, but a lot of people love the patterns. The patterns tend to be motifs that I relate to at the time — sort of where my head’s at. I have an infatuation with rugs, so we ran with it. Luckily others seem to love rugs as well, because they’re probably the top pattern this season.

Speaking of balls, is there a recommended shorts-and-undies combo for maximum breathability?

Uniqlo Airism boxer briefs! I have such an appreciation Uniqlo basics. I’m there like once or twice a week.

At $98 a pop, that’s a good chunk of change, but it’s also not egregious. How do you justify that price?

I think $98 is a price most people are comfortable with given that they’re made in New York. If I had to wholesale these shorts, the retail should be at least $150 or $160. The fact that I do direct-to-consumer allows me to keep it at $98. At the end of the day, it’s not necessarily a “luxury product,” it’s a made-in-the-USA basketball short. It’s important to note that it’s made in New York and all the components are sourced from the United States. I get comments all the time of people saying: “Oh, he’s selling a pair of $10 shorts with a logo on it.” That’s not even close.

It’s expensive to make things here, but the craftsmanship speaks for itself. To speak on the process a bit: The mesh arrives; it’s sent to a cutting room; after that they’re sent to be sewn; a truck grabs them and takes them to be screen printed; another truck grabs them to where they’re steamed/pressed and packaged; and finally they’re shipped.

How does it feel to see people reselling your shorts?

I don’t think there’s a right answer for that. It’s a good feeling to know that your product’s in demand, but I’m also like: “Gee, I wish it went to the people that actually want it.” It’s frustrating when I see it on Grailed or eBay. People have commented that they wish I would do a pre-order so I can meet the demand, but I’m an instant gratification shopper — I want what I bought ASAP!

Beyond shorts, you’ve also done collaborations with New Era on caps, and kicks with both adidas and Reebok, how would you describe the EE signature touch to these products?

The partners I work with are all brands I grew up with. For the most part, I want all of the product I touch to remain as classic as it should. I may throw in my favorite “EE Pink” — PANTONE213C – the color blocking of the original product remains intact.

You’ve also got this 76ers collab coming up, right after another iteration of Iverson’s sneakers. Is it weird to be making basketball shorts when there hasn’t been a season until recently?

I always go back to one thing: Allen Iverson was always number one on my mood board. The recent collaborations are truly a dream come true. The lack of games hasn’t affected my desire for shorts — I love shorts with or without basketball, and whether it’s summer or winter. It’s exciting to see things kicking off this weekend though!

What other collaborations are you cooking up?

The Reebok Club C-EE is up next! My favorite shoe to date: an easy, everyday wear. It’s the first shoe I’ve done that my Mom and Dad can wear often, [laughs] that makes me so happy.

In the past you’ve experimented with fabrics like mohair, leather, and bouclé, both on shorts and sweatpants, is there a dream material you haven’t worked with yet?

I really love cashmere. Cashmere shorts would be amazing, but that seems like a pretty standard answer — so maybe GORE-TEX? That, and and more waxed canvas.

#sneakers #eric emanuel #shorts #allen iverson #streetwear blog #fashion blog

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mcmairy · 4 years

Text

Top 5 Best Cars from the 90s

It's a fitting time to seem back on a particular golden age of the automotive arts. No, I'm not talking about the 60s. I'm talking about the 90s. Yes, the age that gave us boy bands, "Beverly Hills 90210," and therefore the Geo Metro. Believe it or not, that decade gave us some truly memorable rides that are too often overlooked. And, like now, things like design, power, and therefore the thrill of driving were on the increase , the economy was kickin' butt, and Nirvana ruled the airwaves. (OK, Nirvana might not be around anymore, but we do have the Foo Fighters.)

While it's tough to mention that each one of those cars would make solid investments, each offers a singular experience and therefore the certainty that you simply won't blend in with traffic. (Just be prepared with an honest story whenever you stop to refill .) And if you're within the marketplace for a replacement set of wheels, don't miss our collection of the simplest new cars that are anything but subtle.

Nissan 300ZX Turbo Z32

Spiritual ancestor to the legendary Datsun 240Z of the 70s, the 300ZX was Nissan's second-most successful design. Unfussy and nicely proportioned, aimed toward besting performance benchmarks Porsche 944 and Corvette C4. By most meaures, they succeeded. Twin-turbos delivered 300 horses (comparable to a Ferrari 348), which was newsworthy when the car launched in 1989. It featured advanced tech like four-wheel steering, all for around thirty $-large, a terrific bargain. Autoweek called it "the world's most thoroughly modern sports car," when it launched in 89. By the mid-nineties it had been that far better , though it started losing ground to newer competitors. considerably a work of art in terms of design, it's aged well, a robust counterpoint to Nissan's currently overwrought lineup. Values are climbing, slowly but steadily. Maintenance for turbos of the age are migraines-inducing. If you'll brave that, expect to pay only between $4,800 to $17,000 for a sleek, sensuous dream car.

BMW 850i

With slightly quite 7,000 sold in North America over seven years, sightings of 8-Series Bimmers are rare. Despite being a technological tour-de-force boasting many industry firsts, it had been not an enormous hit for BMW. it had been imbued with impeccable workmanship, and owning one today is for the fiscally stout, as maintenance and repair costs are often staggering. If that's not enough to disuade you, the rewards include strutting around in one among the foremost drop-dead gorgeous cars of the past 25 years. Sexy, lithe, and mildly aggressive by today's standards. A grand tourer meant to sprint the Autobahn at high speed for hours on end, that regal five liters V-12 powerplant pulling seamlessly. (A 4-liter V-8 was available too, but why bother?) Though you'll be forgiven for expecting more for an eye-watering $130,000 in 2017 dollars. In truth, the 850, with only 300 horsepower, and lacked that certain road-feel drivers had come to expect from propeller-badged cars. Still, its desirability factor is off the charts, but be prepared to spare a stack of benjamins as these aren't only holding their value but climbing. choose later year models and expect to pay upward of $85k for a 1994 or newer.

Corvette ZR1 C4

The brackish waters between pre-'67 Sting Rays and therefore the latest C7 generation of Corvettes typically elicit yawns. In between beats the guts of a predator, a powerful iteration of what was otherwise an unimpressive car. In 86s General Motors teamed up with British specialty car maker Lotus to develop the world's fastest production car. The resulting bespoke LT5 motor placed the ZR one 'Vette squarely among the world's top performance machines circa 1990. the primary and only non-pushrod 'Vette engine to the present day, it is a 375 horsepower fire-breather with a top speed of 180 with zero to 60 in 4.3 seconds at 7,200rpm. By 1993 output was raised to 405 hp, adding to its stunning all-round capability. Easily on par with elite European supercars of the late 20th century, it remains the simplest value of any Corvette. The ZR1 option package added $27,000 in 1990 to the $32,000 base price, crazy a refund then. A mere 6,939 ZR1s were built, assuring its status as a collectible, though the market hasn't yet trapped . The LT5 engine is taken into account indestructible, as many endurance records will attest. Maintenance costs are much less than most other snowflakes in its class. one among the simplest looking cars of its era, they have been fetching between $20,000 and $40,000.

Porsche 928 GTS

Intended because the replacement for the venerable Porsche 911 within the late 1970s, the 928 went big for its final act. While the market is heating up for these late models, reaching in more than $100,000—more than when new—it's not too late to leap in. Prices are bound to climb since only 406 of those unique, stylish, and powerful Grand Touring cars were shipped Stateside. calculate expensive maintenance, but with 17 years of refinement, Porsche had time to sort it out, so reliability isn't an enormous concern. Beneath that sleek hood lives a 5.4 liter V8 gem, muscling 350 horsepower to speeds in more than 170mph. Its styling are often polarizing, though its adherents believe it to be one among most beautiful cars ever. which will be a stretch, but there is no question it possesses a particular something. Even more impressive within the flesh, crouched low and wide during a menacing crouch, the spiritual ancestor to the Panamera features a legacy all its own.

Mercedes-Benz 500 E

Years later in Stuttgart someone thought to use that very same formula to the essential , schoolmarm-variety E-Class sedan. Though during this case it had been likely more a response to their Teutonic rivals on the opposite side of the Black Forest who had been enjoying success with the M5, itself a hopped-up 5 Series sedan. Unlike the bawdy GTO, besides, the Germans were the proverbial wolves in sheep's clothing. Only the astute observer will notice the subtle differences in stealthy sedans that did not betray what lied beneath all that modesty. The 500 E, later to become the E500, is very collectible and wanted , though not out of reach. Developed with Porsche, it's built sort of a tank and borrows a 5-liter V8 from the 500SL sports tourer, delivering 326 horses. Naught to 60 for the nearly 4,000 pound beast is under six seconds. Hand-built in limited numbers, it is a true classic to have and knowledge daily. Average price for a well-maintained, fairly low-mileage find is within the $40,000 range.

#Top5 Best cars 90s

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mimisxkai · 5 years

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“SHE WAS LIKE THE MOON: BEAUTIFUL TO LOOK AT ─ BUT, IMPOSSIBLE TO TOUCH,

ALWAYS HALF HIDDEN BY WHIPS OF SHADOWS

AND COMPLETELY & UTTERLY A L O N E.”

⌠ 𝑲𝑨𝒀𝑳𝑬𝑬 𝑩𝑹𝒀𝑨𝑵𝑻, 𝟐𝟎, 𝑪𝑰𝑺𝑭𝑬𝑴𝑨𝑳𝑬, 𝑺𝑯𝑬/𝑯𝑬𝑹 ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, 𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑰𝑨 𝑺𝑨𝑲𝑨𝑰! according to their records, they’re a 𝑺𝑬𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑫 year, specializing in 𝑨𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑻𝑹𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮, 𝑩𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑳, 𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑻𝑶 𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑩𝑨𝑻 + “𝑴𝑪𝑮𝑼𝒀𝑽𝑬𝑹” 𝑺𝑼𝑹𝑽𝑰𝑽𝑨𝑳 𝑺𝑲𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑺 & 𝑵𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑮𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵; and they 𝑫𝑰𝑫 go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of ( 𝑨 𝑪𝑹𝒀𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑳 𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑲𝑬𝑹, 𝑯𝑨𝑳𝑭-𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑵 𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑹𝒀 𝑺𝑼𝑪𝑲𝑬𝑹, and 𝑩𝑶𝑾 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑪𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺 ). when it’s the 𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑬𝑹’s birthday on 𝟕/𝟏𝟑/𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟗, they always request their 𝑩𝑬𝑹𝑹𝒀 𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻 from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.

* / CHARACTER INFLUENCES: SANSA STARK ( Game of Thrones ) + CASSIE HOWARD ( Euphoria ) + EMILY FIELDS ( Pretty Little Liars ) + FIONA COYNE ( Degrassi ) + ALLISON ARGENT ( Teen Wolf ) + TANDY BOWEN ( Cloak & Dagger ) + PEETA MELLARK ( The Hunger Games )

* / VINE REFERENCES: x x x *** honorable mention***

* / PERSONAL ANTHEM: PROM QUEEN - Molly Kate Kestner

Hi it’s Bri with another smol child of mines ARTEMISIA. Feel free to like this post or hmu on discord if you want to plot :)

TW: Alcohol, sex. Read with caution.

* / GENERAL INFORMATION

FUL: NAME: Artemisia “Mimi” Monroe Sakai.

KNOWN AS: Mimi, Art, Artie.

AGE: Twenty.

DATE OF BIRTH: July 13, 1999.

PLACE OF BIRTH: Milford, Connecticut.

GENDER: Cisgender female.

PRONOUNS: She/her.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual ( a growing female preference ).

RELIGION: Christian.

* / PHYSICAL & MENTAL CHARACTERISTICS

HEIGHT: 5′8.

WEIGHT: 130 lbs.

HAIR COLOUR: Brown.

EYE COLOUR: Brown.

TATTOOS: None.

PIERCINGS: Standard lobes & double helix.

BODY TYPE: Petite.

PHYSICAL HEALTH: Peak.

NOTABLE PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS: Long legs, slight front gap between front teeth.

FACE CLAIM: Kaylee Bryant.

VOICE CLAIM: Kaylee Bryant’s speaking voice.

CLOSET / STYLE: Cher Horowitz ( Clueless ) & Fran Fine ( The Nanny ).

ILLNESSES / CONDITIONS: Asthma & anxiety disorder.

ADDICTIONS: None.

VICES: Envy.

* / BACKGROUND, OCCUPATION & EDUCATION

BIRTHPLACE: Milford, Connecticut.

RAISED: Milford, Connecticut.

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Gallagher Academy.

SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English and Japanese.

EDUCATION LEVEL: HS diploma.

FINANCIAL STATUS: Wealthy.

* / FAMILIAL BACKGROUND

FATHER: Kane Sakai.

MOTHER: Reina Sakai [ née Sutton ].

SIBLINGS: None.

BIRTH ORDER: n/a.

RELATIONSHIP WITH FAMILY: Close.

PATERNAL GRANDPARENTS: n/a.

MATERNAL GRANDPARENTS: n/a.

SIGNIFICANT OTHER: none.

* / PERSONALITY

POSITIVE: Joyful, caring, selfless, protective.

NEGATIVE: Hot-headed, codependent, self-destructive, naive.

ZODIAC: Cancer.

MBTI TYPE: ENFJ.

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Lawful Good.

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Hufflepuff.

AESTHETIC: Plaid skirts, tight curls, blushing cheeks, open heart & broken spirit, echoing laughter, pointe shoes, distant gazing, soft melodies, pained smiles, tears on pillows.

* / BIO: Her parents named her after the moon, but even the mood has a dark side. Artemisia, better known as Mimi, was the perfect daughter. Sweet, sophisticated, poised ─ everything two high ranking faculty members of the elite private spy university Gallagher could want in a daughter. Since birth, Mimi was groomed knowing she’d follow in the Sutton ( her mother’s maiden name ) legacy and attend the institute, same as her cousins would. As a child, the reality of it didn’t bother her. Along with the private self-defense and boxing classes with her father and weapons training with her mother, there were other more exciting extracurriculars she had to distract her.

Violin and horseback riding were just two phases that quickly came and went, but her love for dance always stayed. What was meant to be an after school activity soon spiraled into tumbling classes, weekend competitions, and many 1st place trophies. It was like an unspoken issue in her household. Though her love for dance ─ ballet specifically ─ eclipsed her love for anything else, so much so that she hoped to make a career out of it, her parents remained steadfast on her attending Gallagher. Upon entering high school, suddenly Mimi’s lack of time and the reality that her dreams would be crushed began to cave in on her. A usually happy and upbeat girl now only had four years left of freedom. And she held onto those four years the best way she knew how ─ by making memories.

Being sent to a spy prep boarding school 30 minutes from home was the best, and worst, thing her parents could’ve done. Separated from her dance team all week only elevated her anxiety levels, leading her to have full-blown panic attacks when things became too much. Desperate to find some means of control in her life, Mimi turned to what all the rich, spoiled, and rotten kids at her school were doing. Sex. Partying. A bit of crime. Shoplifting here, a quickie there. Mimi longed for some sort of...connection. Some control. Something to make her feel whole now that she was losing her grasp on the life she truly wanted. The weekends were her escape, where she could return home, or better yet to the dance studio, and just let out all of pent up energy weekly stressors had built up inside of her. And that’s how her life was for four years. Trying to survive the week, and let loose on the weekends. She didn’t care how her reputation preceded her. She didn’t care that past boyfriends had convinced her to do things ─ on camera ─ then leaked those things when broken up. It’s not like her reputation mattered anymore. It’s not like the nudes would stop her from going to Gallagher of all places. Not when she had the connections she had. So, she moved onto the next. And the next. Falling in love, falling in sin, and trying to keep her head above water.

When graduation day had come, something changed. Mimi had spent 4 years essentially learning strength and self-assurance in her day to day classes ( after all what was a spy who lacked confidence? a dead spy, that’s what ), so she proposed a deal with her parents. A year. Give her a year to follow her passion. If she failed, she’d go to Gallagher willingly. If not, she’d get to live her life the way she wanted. It took some begging, some pleading, a few fat tears, but eventually, they conceded. Mimi’s first destination was New York. Finding work was hard though, as was school. Places like Julliard and Joffrey already filled their quota for the year and productions had already been cast for the fall. She found luck, though, as a background dancer in a small production Off-Broadway. Better than nothing, and it was a great starter position as she was slightly rusty from not dancing as regularly as she did as a child. What she thought was a shot, only turned into tragedy. A few months in, she did one of the worst things that could happen to a dancer: she tore her ACL. Recovery was imminent but spanned nearly a year. And by that time, her time was up. No dream was fulfilled. No opportunity was given. Mimi packed her bags and began at Gallagher, just like she promised her parents.

Now a second year at the school, Mimi has grown accustomed to that drowning feeling that started during her high school years. If anything, she enjoys the numbness now. Anything is better than the pain.

* / PERSONALITY: Mimi is so glad she doesn’t look like what she’s gone through. From afar she’s still the perfect daughter. Selfless, because helping others distracts herself from her own problems. Kind-hearted, always smiling, the sweetheart appearance. But what most people don’t know is that the smile is for a show, because pretending is a lot easier than wallowing or taking out her anger on someone else. When first attending Gallagher, the loss of something so crucial to her had her on edge. So when a boy from her former school decided to taunt her with some private photos, she snapped. It seemed all those years of her boxing lessons with her dad finally came in handy. She appears to be delicate and soft, breakable even, but how can you break something that’s already broken? By day, she’s the girl everyone wants to know. But by night, when everyone’s asleep, she goes to the gym where a punching bag becomes her best friend. It’s the only form of control she has left.

* / WANTED RELATIONS: People who know her from her past, maybe some girlssss to explore her sexuality with????, at least one confidante, sexual tension, and so on.

#gallagher:intro #this got #long #again #my bad

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lovemesomesurveys · 5 years

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1. What do you like to do in your free time? So what do I do everyday? Tumblr, surveys, watch TV, watch YouTube, eat, sleep... sometimes read and color. 2. Are you more of an indoors or outdoors person? I am an indoors person all the way. The only exception is if I’m at the beach. 3. Who is the most fascinating person you’ve met? Hmm. 4. What was the last book you really got into? Burying the Honeysuckle Girls by Emily Carpenter.

5. What are some movies you really enjoyed? There’s several.

6. What amazing adventures have you been on? I haven’t really been on any. 7. What pets have you had? Dogs, fishes, hamsters. 8. What’s your favorite alcoholic and non-alcoholic drink? I don’t drink alcohol anymore, so none, but my favorite non-alcoholic drink is coffee. 9. What are you kind of obsessed with these days? My food obsessions come to mind at the moment. My appetite is all over the place and I’m either an endless pit or hardly eating anything at all. Each week is different in terms of that and what I’m into. This past week it’s been breakfast burritos, deli sandwiches, deli pasta salads, and ramen. I also had a really good pizza last week that I’m craving again. 10. Where have you traveled? To beaches, mountainous areas, Disneyland, Arizona, Idaho, Georgia, Mexico. 11. What’s your favorite international food? Italian. 12. Are you a morning person or a night owl? I’m barely a person. 13. What’s your favorite restaurant? Applebees. 14. How many siblings do you have? 2. 15. What would be your dream job? I don’t have one. :/ 16. What would you do if had enough money to not need a job? Travel. 17. Who is your favorite author? I have a few. 18. What was the last show you binge-watched? Orange is the New Black. 19. What TV series do you keep coming back to and re-watching? I’ve seen The Golden Girls, Roseanne, and I Love Lucy countless times in syndication. 20. What hobbies would you like to get into if you had the time and money? Hm. I don’t know. 21. If there was an Olympics for everyday activities, what activity would you have a good chance at winning a medal in? Taking surveys. 22. What would your perfect vacation look like? Somewhere involving a beach house and private beach area. 23. Among your friends, what are you best known for? I don’t know. 24. What music artist do you never get tired of? There’s a lot. Well, at least their music itself I never tire of. I may not necessarily keep up with the artist. 25. What are some accomplishments that you are really proud of? I honestly don’t feel proud of myself for much of anything in my current state. It used to be getting my BA, but now not even that because I’m doing anything with it and I really don’t have any plans to. I feel like it was a waste and I’m a total failure and disappointment. 26. What are some obscure things that you are or were really into? *shrug* 27. What are some things everyone should try at least once? I don’t knowww. 28. What fad did you never really understand? There’s been many where I was just like, wtf, why??

29. What’s the best thing that has happened to you this month? Going to the beach last week was great and very much needed. 30. What would your perfect morning be like? I’d be in a house with a beautiful ocean view and I’d be out sipping my coffee on the balcony overlooking said view. 31. Is there any art or artist you are really into? No. 32. What are you always game for? Coffee. 33. What do you do to unwind? Listen to ASMR. 34. What’s your favorite app on your phone? I use YouTube, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, and Kindle app the most. 35. Cutest animal? Ugliest animal? Awwww I think majority of animals are cute. 36. Who is the kindest person you know? One of my nurses. 37. What’s your favorite piece of furniture you’ve ever owned? My bed. 38. Who are your kind of people? People with a good sense of humor. 39. Where’s the strangest place you’ve ever been? Uhhh. 40. What’s the silliest fear you have? I have a lot. Like for one, sometimes when I’m in the shower I get this scary thought about the pipes just bursting. That’s just one of many. 41. What would be the best city to live in? I don’t know. 42. What household chore is just the worst? I’m not a fan of any chore. 43. If you could give yourself a nickname, what nickname would you want people to call you? *shrug* Steph is fine. How original, I know. 44. What odd talent do you have? I don’t feel I have any. 45. If you could give everyone just one piece of advice, what would it be? Just try and be kind and understanding. 46. What would you like to know more about, but haven’t had the time to look into it? Hmm. 47. What country do you never want to visit? Any country where it would be dangerous for me to be in? <<< Yeah, I agree. 48. What wrong assumptions do people make about you? People think I’m “strong” and “brave” and give me way more credit than I deserve. I’m none of those things. 49. Do you prefer to work in a team or alone? Alone. 50. What has been the best period of your life so far? Childhood. 51. How have you changed from when you were in high school? That was over 10 years ago and a LOT has changed. Not for the better, either. 52. How techie are you? Uhh techie enough? I don’t know. I mean, I like the latest phones and laptops and stuff like that. 53. Where is the most fun place around where you live? Nowhere in my city, that’s for sure. You gotta travel out of town to do anything fun. 54. Have you ever joined any meetup groups? No. 55. Where would your friends or family be most surprised to find you? They’d be surprised to find me out at all at this point, ha. 56. What’s the most relaxing situation you could imagine? Lying out on the beach. 57. What is the most beautiful view you’ve seen? Ocean and mountainous views. 58. What’s expensive but totally worth it? For me, it’s my MacBook. 59. When do you feel most out of place? I often feel that way. 60. What’s the most recent thing you’ve done for the first time? I can’t think of something at the moment. My days are very routine and I do the same the things. 61. How did you come to love your one of your favorite musicians? Probably first seeing their music videos on MTV back when they actually played music videos. 62. How did you meet your best friend? She gave birth to me. 63. What small seemingly insignificant decision had a massive impact on your life? I don’t know. 64. Where would you move if you could move anywhere in the world and still find a job and maintain a reasonable standard of living? I’m not sure, but somewhere where it doesn’t get unbearably hot and has actual fall and winters. 65. Would you like to be famous? (If yes, what would you want to be famous for? If no, why not?) No. I don’t want that attention and focus on me. I couldn’t handle it. I hole up at home and have avoided people in my personal life, why would I want people all over all up in my business and judging my every move? No thank you. 66. What did you do last summer? Complain about how hot it was and was dying, mostly. What I do every summer. 67. If you lived to 100, would you rather keep the body or the mind of yourself at 30 until you were 100? What. 68. Before you make a call, do you rehearse what you are going to say? Oh god, yes. I HATE having to make calls. 69. What are you most grateful for? My family. 70. What’s the most essential part of a friendship? Being able to trust them and talk to them about things and enjoying common interests. 71. When was the last time you sang to yourself or to someone else? Yesterday. 72. If you knew you were going to die in a year, what would you change about how you live? I don’t like questions like this. 73. When was the last time you walked for more than an hour? Yearssss ago. 74. What did you do for (last holiday)? Or What will you do for (next closest holiday)? We didn’t do anything for Memorial Day. Next holiday is Father’s Day, and we’ll probably go to lunch and/or see a movie. 75. Best and worst flavor ice cream? What would make for an excellent new ice cream flavor? Strawberry or mint chocolate chip. 76. Who’s your favorite actor or actress? Alexander Skarsgard. 77. All modesty aside, what are you better at than 90% of people? It doesn’t have to be useful or serious, it can be something ridiculous. I don’t feel I’m great at anything. 78. What’s the strangest phone conversation you’ve ever had? I don’t know. 79. How much personal space do you need to be comfortable? I don’t want someone all hugged up on me. 80. What’s the most interesting fact you know? I couldn’t choose just one. 81. What fad or trend have you never been able to understand? A lot of them, honestly. 82. Who’s your favorite character from a TV show, movie, or book? I’ll just pick one of the many shows I watch, Riverdale: The main crew, Betty, Veronica, Judghead, and Archie. 83. What TV shows did you watch when you were a kid? Stuff on Nickelodeon, Disney, PBS, and WB Kids. Oh, and the Saturday morning cartoons that came on ABC like Recess and Pepperann. 84. What do you like but are kind of embarrassed to admit? I don’t feel embarrassed about anything I like. 85. What’s your favorite smell? When an attractive guy smells good, oh my. <<< That really is nice. And the ocean/beachy air, rain, patchouli, sandalwood, fruity scents, minty scents, cinnamon, coffee, freshly baked goods and the smells of my favorite foods... 86. What skill or ability have you always wanted to learn? I wish I took piano more seriously back when I used to practice. 87. What’s the best meal you’ve ever had? Recently, it was the pizza I had last week. 88. Where was your favorite place to go when you were a kid? Anywhere with my cousins. 89. What’s the most amount of people you had to present something in front of? Like 30+. Presenting in front of anyone is a nightmare. 90. If you could go back in time as an observer, no one could see you, and you couldn’t interact with anything, when would you want to go back to? Ooh. I’d have to really think about that. 91. What’s something that most people haven’t done, but you have? Hmm. 92. What says the most about a person? How they present themselves. 93. What machine or appliance in your house aggravates you the most? None, really. Unless it’s not working for some reason. 94. What places have you visited that exceeded your expectations? Certain vacation spots and restaurants. 95. If you opened a business, what type of business would you start? I wouldn’t. 96. What’s the worst movie you’ve ever seen? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a really bad movie. 97. What’s the best road trip you’ve been on? Trip to Idaho back in the summer of 2010. A lot of my family on my mom’s side went and it was really fun. We had no idea it would be the last time we’d see my grandpa before he died the end of that year. It happened really fast. He wasn’t even sick like that when we visited him that summer. At least, he didn’t appear to be. That trip ended up being even more special. 98. If you found a briefcase filled with 1 million in 100$ bills in front of your door, what would you do with it? Check for ID or if anyone has reported it missing. Otherwise, I’d keep it. 99. What’s the worst advice someone has given you? I don’t know. 100. Besides your home and your work, where do you spend most of your time? I’m always at home. 101. If you could have the answer to any one question, what question would you want the answer to? Hmm. 102. What are your top 3 favorite things to talk about? Common interests, celebrity/entertainment gossip, some current event type stuff. 103. What do you care least about? It would seem like myself. 104. Where would you like to retire? I’m not even thinking about that right now. I’m not even working. :X 105. Who is the most bizarre person you’ve met? Uhh. 106. What are people often surprised to learn about you? What happened to me that made me a paraplegic. 107. Would you rather live full time in an RV or full time on a sailboat? RV. 108. What would you do with the extra time if you never had to sleep? I really wouldn’t want that. I want my sleep. I need that escape. 109. When you were a kid, what seemed like the best thing about being a grown up? You think you can do whatever you want. 110. What’s the strangest way you’ve become friends with someone? I can’t think of any strange ways. 111. What’s your go-to series or movie when you want to watch something but can’t find anything to watch? If I can’t find something to watch on TV then I tend to just put it on the ID channel. 112. What were some of the turning points in your life? My accident, surgeries, graduating, health related things. 113. What companies made you so mad that you would rather suffer bodily harm than give them any more of your money? I’ve never been that upset with a company. 114. What small things brighten up your day when they happen? When what happens? 115. What sports would be funniest if the athletes had to be drunk while playing? I still wouldn’t care to watch sports. 116. What’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve done because you were bored? Just sleep. 117. If you could send one letter to yourself in the past without the goal of making yourself rich (no lotto numbers, stock picks, etc.), what age would you choose and what would the letter say? I’d go back to like...high school days and warn myself of some things and tell myself to take better care of myself. 118. How many other countries have you visited? Just one. 119. What’s your favorite band NAME (not necessarily your favorite band)? Panic! At the Disco. I just like the “Panic!” part, ha. And why at the disco? What happened? 120. What do you miss about life 10 or 20 years ago? My life wasn’t ran by my health. 121. What’s your favorite holiday? Christmas. 122. What’s getting worse and worse as you get older? What’s getting better and better as you get older? Worse: health and life. Better: .... 123. Where’s the best place in (your town or city) to have a picnic? I guess a park. 124. What’s your favorite thing to do outdoors? Go to the beach. 125. How often do you dance? Silly/ironic dancing counts. I may bob my head while listening to music. 126. What do you never get tired of? Coffee. 127. What habit do you wish you could start? Better self-care things. 128. What’s the best way to get to know who someone really is? Just spending time getting to know them. Oh, and seeing how they act in public situations. 129. What’s the last new thing you tried? A new type of pizza last week. 130. Who besides your parents taught you the most about life? I’d say experiences have. 131. When are you the most “you” that you can be? In other words, when do you feel most like yourself? At home in my comfort zone. 132. What’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve done? *shrug* I’m not very spontaneous. 133. What’s happening now, that in 20 years people will look back on and laugh about? A lot of things, I’m sure. Like how easily people get all up in an uproar about literally everything. 134. How much social interaction is too much? I can’t handle much. 135. How different do you act when you are with acquaintances vs. people you are comfortable with? I’m just more guarded and aware, I guess. 136. On a weekend or holiday, what’s the best time of day and the best time of night? All the days are the same to me. 137. What are you looking forward to that’s happening soon? Beach trip. 138. What really cheesy song do you love? There’s plenty of those. 139. What’s the worst or best job you’ve had? I’ve never had one. 140. What’s been the most significant plot twist in your own life? I never saw this downward spiral coming after I graduated in 2015. It really went downhill after that. 141. Where did you take family vacations to when you were younger? Disneyland and beachy, touristy places. 142. What’s your go-to funny story? I don’t know. 143. If the company you work for / the college you go to had an honest slogan, what would it be? I don’t work and I’m done with school. 144. If you could instantly receive a Ph.D. in any discipline including all the knowledge and experience that goes along with it, what would your Ph.D. be in? I don’t want one, though. I’m not even doing anything with my BA. 145. How well do you cope when you don’t have your phone with you for an extended period of time? I’m fine. 146. What were some of the happiest times of your life so far? Various times in my life with family, childhood, vacations. 147. Would you rather have an incredibly fast car or incredibly fast internet speed? Incredibly fast internet speed. 148. What are the top three social situations you try to avoid most? Any social situation? ha. 149. What friendship you’ve had has impacted you the most? The friendship Ty and I had. 150. What’s something you’re interested in that most people wouldn’t expect? I don’t know. 151. What’s your favourite quote or saying?

152. If you had the power to change one law, what law would you change? Uhhhh. 153. What’s the hardest you’ve worked for something? My BA degree. Ha. What a waste now. 154. What took you way too long to figure out? My stubbornness caused me a lot of problems. I didn’t think things could get the way they are, but they sure did. 155. What nicknames have you had throughout your life? Steph and Sis. 156. What do you do differently than most people? A lot of things, probably. 157. Where’s the last place you’d ever go? Space. 158. What fact floored you when you heard it? I can’t think, man. 159. If you unexpectedly won 10,000$, what would you spend it on? I’d want to travel for sure. Take me awayyyy. 160. Who is the best role model a person could have? That depends on you and what you’re aspiring to be.

#long one #personal #text #survey #surveys

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