so here’s my over-analysis on the elevator scene that nobody asked for. i hope you’re ready for Keith being a pining little shit
so Lance decides to check out the pool. of course he would! he grew up on the beach and is the guardian spirit of water. that’s totally something he’d be all over. he loves swimming.
so it’s kinda interesting that Keith of all people would also want to go swimming. he’s the polar opposite of Lance, he’s the fire paladin. water isn’t really his thing tbh? (doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy swimming though, but you get what i mean)
while it could just be coincidental that he decided to go check out the pool at the same time Lance did, i get the feeling Keith found out Lance was going swimming and wanted to join him but pretended that he didn’t know what Lance was doing ‘cause he doesn’t wanna make it obvious that there’s something else he wants to check out
what do you mean “what do you think you’re doing?” Keith??? he’s wearing swim trunks and a towel and is on the same elevator as you how can you not make the obvious conclusion that he’s going swimming???? you’re a terrible liar
okay look, i know how i get when i have a crush on somebody. i will find literally any excuse to be around them, but will try to downplay it and make it seem like i totally don’t care. i’d recognize that kinda behavior anywhere. and Keith? totally trying to downplay it right now. “i just so happened to want to go swimming at the same time my crush did and stopped him in the elevator before he could go without me but pffsh i totally am NOT trying to find an excuse to be around him. i’ll prove it by making sure he knows we will be on opposite ends of the pool and i’m totally not interested in being around him!”
okay Keith, i think we get the point ;D (the way he says this line sounds so forced like he’s trying not to make things awkward oh my god)
if you go back and watch this scene, Keith looks over at Lance first. probably because he just realized he got stuck in an elevator, with his crush, while wearing bathing suits. the first thing running through his mind right now is probably “hHOL YSsHIT”
Lance looks over at Keith like “are you fucking kidding me right now”
and Keith is like “shit gotta keep acting like this is the opposite of the best day of my life”
so anyways we cut back to this scene after a brief moment with Pidge and Hunk, and while i bet Keith would come up with any excuse to get close to Lance, i like to think it was Lance’s idea to crawl up the elevator shaft like this. he’s the kind of person who would come up with crazy ideas like this if he was that determined to get to the pool. i have absolutely no doubt Keith was internally screaming the whole time.
he proceeds to bicker with Lance like usual and they shove each other. if you look closely after Keith shoves Lance back though, you’ll notice he keeps leaning against Lance more than before. probably ‘cause he’s secretly enjoying the physical contact
poor Lance, he just wants to go swimming. let the dolphin boy swim
Keith: this is literally one of the best things that has ever happened to me don’t ruin it
Keith spots the vent shaft and they finally get out of there
listen, i don’t know if it was just intentional but it seriously looks like these two aren’t looking in the same direction. Lance is looking up at the vent shaft like “finally, thank god” whereas Keith looks like he’s just staring at nothing in particular, probably thinking to himself “well this was exciting but now we get to go swimming which is gonna be even better. nice”
tl;dr: Keith found out Lance was going swimming so he wanted to as well but pretended like it was just a coincidence, and totally was secretly enjoying the fact that he got trapped in an elevator with his crush. and based on all the pining!Keith evidence we have so far, i don’t see why this can’t be the case.
Okay I know free! Is a long finished anime but as a swimmer I just want to talk about this for a bit. Now, with Sosuke. This is a situation that is very close to me. I nearly cried watching this due to first and secondhand experience. Swimming injuries are fatal.
One injury can change everything.
With me? I overstrained my muscles, depending on one side of my body to propel myself forward. It was damaging. But I was lucky. It was identified quickly, my coach immediately changing my training and allowing me to recover.
My friend? Not so lucky.
She injured her shoulder, almost exactly like Sosuke did. She wouldn’t complain, wouldn’t speak up, and she overworked herself. She overtrained herself just to make nationals… And her body couldn’t cope.
She spent (and still does spend) hours in rehabilitation. But she knows she’ll never recover. As sad as it is? That’s it for her. All so that she could make summer nationals and qualify for the Olympics.
She still swims, but she can’t keep up. Its been four years now.
This hit me hard at the struggles faced, ones so close to my own. Another thing I experienced? The expectations, like Haru. I was being pushed to win regionals and make nationals, alongside another boy at my club.
He made it. I couldn’t.
Similar to Haru, in the middle of my 200m backstroke at regionals, I choked on water at the beginning of the race. I was fine, but my head wasn’t in it. I couldn’t think straight, I felt like I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe through my thoughts.
I stopped after 150m and got out.
I couldn’t do it.
And it just makes it so much better, to be able to relate to these characters. I don’t even know why I’m writing this. Maybe to motivate myself to train harder and make nationals next year. Maybe to show how real these experiences are.
Maybe for sympathy. Whatever it is, thanks for reading all of this, and reblog, like or even send me a message.
(Sorry its so long ;~;)
This is a nice opportunity to share our thoughts on the “Ink dies when the fandom dies” thing because we interpret this a bit differently.
We believe that Ink “dying” doesn’t mean that he’d simply fade and be gone. Instead, since he uses the creativity of the community as a substitute for his soul, he’d lose the ability to feel any kind of emotion if the fandom was gone, thus resulting him entering into a numb state that Ink would consider his “death”. His physical body is not linked to this, so he might as well just sit around and do nothing anymore. And feel nothing. All alone. In nothingness. …Yep, that’s worse than death.
I mean, Error didn’t have any opportunity for swimming in the anti void and while Ink might have have gotten more often into the situation where he has to swim (since he visits AU’s without wanting to be noticed)… let’s be honest, none of the them have enough experience to make more than pathetic splashing.
It was bad fight. One of the more verbally heated and aggressive that Jason and Bruce had ever had with each other. If Alfred hadn’t been there, Jason probably would have done more than just punched Bruce. But he had looked the butler right in the eyes and felt his entire inner being melt.
Hands still visibly shaking and bruised, Jason had stormed out of the Manor, ignoring Alfred’s sharp but hurting voice. Walking straight towards his bike, revving the engine and driving away into the night, refusing to look back. He was done looking back.
He could have gone anywhere. Could have gone back to one of his safe houses and calmed the storm of his anger with an angry sci-fi book exploring colonialism and slavery. Could have gone to Bludhaven or Metropolis to beat up some low-lifes without getting interrupted by family. Could have ridden down Route 66 and ended up at the bottom of the grand Canyon for all he cared…
So why the hell did he choose the ocean?
Jason Todd hated the ocean.
He always had. He had assumed it had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t learned how to swim until Bruce taught him during his intensive training as Robin.
Now, his dislike for the ocean had more to do with the murky green sea depths that bubbled up around you as your body sunk like a corpse. Seaweed grasping around ankles like talons ready to pull you down until your ears popped and saltwater filled your lungs and nose and you were clutching at your throat in desperation…
Jason Todd hated the ocean.
And yet, as he drove away down the interstate, hardly registering where he was going, his mind to filled with writhing emotions and thoughts and the roar of the engine to focus on the details, the ocean had called him.
He had pulled up along a quiet row of pastel-coloured beach houses, balanced on wooden stilts that had survived many a hurricane. Jason pulled his helmet over his head, shaking it and running his hand through sweaty hair with a deep cursory breath. He took a moment to let the heaviness of the pre-dawn atmosphere wash over him, sitting there hunched over in the silence, then slowly got off the bike and left it there, walking towards the distant crash of waves.
The old wooden bridge creaked beneath his boots as he walked over it, glancing around into the darkness as he took in the shapes of sand dunes and reeds rustling in the rough wind. When he reached the edge of the rough boardwalk he sat down, pulled his boots off, and rolled his cargo pants up above his calves.
Toes dug into cool sand as he stepped off the solid wood. Boots dangling by his side, Jason wandered out across the dunes, wincing against the pain of sharp shells scratching the soles of his feet. Soft, powdery grains became thick, grit, became cool water lapping against his ankles. Jason stopped, and looked out across the horizon with bated breath, his eyebrows furrowed, mouth twisted against the pain.
Pink clouds pooled across the edge of the calm ocean as the sun rose above the frothy waves, as if heralding Aphrodite’s birth. The sky was an orange soda mix of rose petals and hazy gold light that reflected off of the clear water that danced up onto the shore, only to retreat back to the great expanse that lay before him in white foam.
And suddenly, tears were streaming down Jason’s cheeks, the scene in front of him becoming a blurred, bokeh vision of light and fragile, waning hope that beat in his heart like the waves beating against the shoreline. He turned his face up to the sky and allowed the dim stars and constellations to fill his sight with something other than water.
Jason Todd hated the ocean.
The weariness burned in tired Jason’s bones, his lids growing heavy with the sleepless hours over the past week, and so he retreated back from the encroaching tide. He sat down in the sand, not even caring that it would get everywhere, and fought sleep while seconds and minuted ticked by unnoticed. The gentle sound of waves mixed with the occasional cry of a gull fought Jason’s stubbornness until he could stand it no longer. He felt himself sink back into a pillow of soft sand and drift away into nothingness, floating like a buoy on the waves…
His lifeless body thrown into a pit filled with glowing green waters that entered in through his nostrils and choked what little life he had left in him. It seemed intent on replacing his blood, mixing, coursing through veins until it pulsed with every choking, stuttered heartbeat…
Groaning, the sobs racking his chest in stilted breaths as his brittle nails shattered against wood, clawing like an trapped animal. A crack of boardwalk under his boots, the coffin caves in and mouldy earth and worms press against his emaciated body, sunken cheeks, filling his mouth so he can’t even scream anymore, can’t move a limb, trapped under the dirt…
Jason started awake, and found that he couldn’t move his legs. Breathing rapid and heaving, he dug his way out of the packed sand and scrambled back in confusion.
‘Aw, that took me like, forever. Why’d you have to go and ruin it?’
Jason blinked in the blinding sun, disoriented, throat dry and stomach still turning with writhing sickness. He shielded his eyes and found himself face-to-face with a boy wearing bat-branded swimming trunks and wielding a purple plastic shovel.
‘Kid…’ Jason started, his voice hoarse, the panic giving way to cold fury. ‘You can’t just bury random strangers while they’re sleeping.’
The boy sniffed, brushing a strand of tightly coiled hair away from his face and squinting at Jason dubiously, like he was crazy.
Jason let out a shaky sigh, running a hand across his sweaty brow. ‘Because. You just… you just, don’t. Okay?’
‘M’kay.’ He had the decency to look down, poking the sand in a somewhat apologetic, mostly distracted manner. ‘Well… sorry, I guess.’
They sat there for a moment in silence, Jason hugging his knees to his chest trying to calm his heart rate by taking in deep, slow breaths. But all he could see, all he could think about was the dirt collapsing in around him, burying him in the darkness. He shut his eyes, wishing the boy would just go away, but he could feel the kid’s stare boring through him.
‘Are you okay?’ the boy asked him finally, prying, curiosity mixed with genuine concern.
And Jason couldn’t help but let a small laugh escape him.
‘No,’ he admitted, his voice more scared than he had meant for it to sound, looking out towards the waves, his face stony. ‘No, I’m not. I don’t like the ocean. Or getting buried.’
The boy hummed thoughtfully, sitting down beside Jason and following his gaze.
‘Yeah… I don’t really like the ocean either. All my cousins can swim, but I can’t. That’s why I’m stuck here playing in the sand.’
‘Well, I’m sorry you can’t swim. But that doesn’t mean its okay for you to go around burying people in sand.’
‘Yeah, I guess you’re right,’ the kid admitted grudgingly. He picked up a shell and played with it, running his fingers over the ridges before he tossed it as far as he could. He turned to Jason and held out the purple shovel. ‘If you build a sand castle with me, I promise I won’t bury anyone else in sand.’
Jason looked down at the boy and smirked, half reminded of a much younger, carefree version of himself that used to make deals with Bruce. Bargains, compromises, bets just to stay out one hour later on patrol. And suddenly, he missed Bruce. He missed his hair-tousles and deep laughter and sarcastic come-backs. He missed the the hours they had spent together reading, training, studying, eating… learning how to swim.
Coming up spluttering from the deep-end, Bruce’s strong hand on his back, hugging Jason’s skinny body close to his bare-chest.
It’s okay, Jay-lad. You’re okay. I’ve got you.
‘What’s your name, kid?’ Jason asked the boy.
‘Do you want to learn how to swim, Jamal?’
Jamal’s eyes grew wide. ‘I thought you didn’t like the ocean?’
‘It’s not so bad when you’re not alone,’ Jason said lightly, shrugging his shoulders.
An impish, gleeful grin spread across Jamal’s face as he sprang up, kicking sand in Jason’s eyes.
‘Race you to the water!’ he yelled and dashed off.
Jason scrambled up after him with muttered curses, hoping the kid didn’t throw himself headfirst into the sea before he got there. His combat boots and Jamal’s purple shovel lay forgotten in the sand, abandoned in favour of peals of laughter that echoed across the ocean waters.
I mean, if I really want to reach since morty was still technically the correct answer to set off the platform, maybe Rick just started talking about noob noob because he chickened out into telling morty how he really felt?