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Since it seems others are fascinated with the idea of introductions, here's mine.
Name's Maeve Flynn-Abrams, I was a lieutenant commander in the Navy and currently the head engineer on this ship. You break it, someone will fix it. You break it hard enough and it ends up on my desk. It ends up on my desk, hope your name isn't attached. I don't like people who break my toys.
With that said, I only bite if you beg for it and I'm easily swayed by good whisky, gifts for my dog, and toasters. Do with that information what you will.
Yeah, you got a way to stop this damn boat from ruining my street cred? Because it's kinda hard for people to believe the whole "I use to be a federal agent that put away the worst scumbags on the planet" thing when I'm bent over the railings of this thing hurling my guts into the ocean. I'm serious, I can't do this for the next twenty years, I like my insides inside of me.
Speaking of things I like inside of me, I do have a really nice bottle of Laphroaig hidden in my office (because my mom would absolutely drink it if I kept it in my room) and a couple of kongs that Loki hasn't even looked at so...
Well I guess this is where we are now? This is all new to everyone right? So I am not going to stress and instead embrace it. Hi figured we would probably need to get to know each other? Hi I'm Miles and I am one of the personal trainers on the ship and I can help you get into shape if that is what you want to do or help you understand what to do in the gym. If that doesn't float your boat, then I do love movies as well and I am quite the Marvel and Harry Potter, oh and also Lord of the Rings nerd. How is everyone else doing?
You mean you've never lived on a ship indefinitely because the world went to hell in a hand basket?? Weird, I thought it was something we all did at least once before. Reagan, the bitch with the handcuffs and a solid workout routine. I'll be better when I stop hurling over the side of the ship every ten minutes. Boats suck.
So.. Where to even start? The world has gone to shit and we're all here together. I don't even know what to say about that. I feel like a lot of you are acclimating well, but I'm pretty sure I'm still in panic mode. I feel like Troy in Community, in that one scene. You all know what I'm talking about. Does anyone else feel this way or are we all feeling chill now?
Anyone that acts like or tells you they're acclimating well is full of shit, kid. No-one wants to massively uproot their lives to live on a boat indefinitely, and anyone that does is running from something. Panic mode is valid, it's been like, what? Three days? I'm still sick as a dog, I was not built for seafaring, which is a shame because I always thought I'd make a pretty hot pirate. But hey, the world might be on fire, but at least you still got the pizza
Since we're all technically neighbors now, potentially forever, I'd love to get to know everybody! I can start: my name is Kristy, I use she/her pronouns, and I'm a Midwife. My office is always open to anybody who might need to speak about sexual or reproductive health, and of course is equipped with a private delivery suite. I'm great at my job, I promise, and I've seen, like, a million vaginas at this point, so please know you and your baby are in great hands with me and you have nothing to be embarrassed about when it comes to those more personal, private areas.
Tell me about you? What are you going to be doing for work here on the ship? What did you do before?
Sup Kirsty, expert in vaginas, I'm Reagan, also somewhat of a vagina expert but probably in a different way... the idea of people on this boat reproducing fills with me genuine fear and nasuea because screaming babies drive me nuts, so I'm just gonna hope everyone here is gay and we don't have to worry about all that.
I was a fed before I realised the government was attacking my family and friends, and now I'm a law enforcement chick on this weird cult cruise ship so... a step up I guess??
I don't want to sound dramatic, but between my cat running off and me searching everywhere for him, getting completely turned around on my way back, and then spilling glitter all over the floor of our suite, I feel like I'm going to either end up at the spa or a bar on my very first day here. Maybe both? This place also keeps taking me back to that Disney cruise my Lola and Lolo took me on when I was eight. Just one day into the trip, the weather did a complete 180 on us, and while I didn't get seasick myself, pretty much everyone else on the ship — including most of the actors — did. It definitely wasn’t the magical trip we expected, and thinking about it now isn’t exactly helping my mood either.
What has everyone else planned for the night? Anything fun?
Okay, I get that we're all moving in, and getting used to having our pets on a ship, but I have dealt with way too many missing pet cases today and I have a headache from all this ridiculous paperwork, so can we just... get better at shutting doors?? That said, this is no Disney cruise, and sometimes I'm glad for that because I think being stuck at sea with a load of cartoon characters and actors that aren't allowed to break character would drive me insane so... silver linings.
Well, when I've finished the eighteenth report on a missing but now found pet for... "Mr Fuzzy", I'm going to kick back, feed my dog, and find something dumb to watch to entertain me while I try and fail to fall asleep
losing like i can't find him, not losing like dying! ...i hope. but i don't think so. he's like a cockroach.
is that like a sequel to the espresso song? it's that me problem? her bad girl era. love that. just like the inventor of gay pop.
no, i think his mlm days are behind us. for now, anyway. we tossed all the leggings overboard.
Wait, is he a cat or a cockroach?? Because one of those is wayyyy easier to find than the other...
I could live with being in my bad girl era, I am a bad bitch... although I cannot explain the pain inside me when I think about that kid claiming she invented gay pop, I think she had that ridiculous ponytail tied too tight for too long. At least I never have to hear about her again.
Well that's something I guess, I really did not feel like breaking up an mlm scheme on my first day, good call
has anyone seen lord tubbington? i took my eye off him for two seconds when i was getting us some ice cream, and now i can't find him anywhere. if you see him, please just tell me, dÍŸoÍŸ ÍŸnÍŸoÍŸtÍŸ ÍŸaÍŸpÍŸpÍŸrÍŸoÍŸaÍŸcÍŸhÍŸ!ÍŸ!ÍŸ!ÍŸ he will try and get you to "support his small business", but it's just an mlm - not the good kind!! - and he's just trying to get you in his down-line. he dÍŸoÍŸeÍŸsÍŸ ÍŸnÍŸoÍŸtÍŸ have a family to support, he's a free-loader who swindled me out of three hundred dollars.
Wow not even a day in and we're already losing... people? Pets? Either way this is going to end up being a me problem isn't it? Especially if he's running an mlm on board... and here I thought this job was going to be boring
REAGAN ELLIOT CORCORAN
⚑ GENDER: Ciswoman ⚑ PRONOUNS: She/Her ⚑ AGE: 38 (December 25th, 1986) ⚑ TYPE: Half sibling ⚑ HOMETOWN: New York City, New York ⚑ SEXUALITY: Bisexual ⚑ JOB: On-board Law Enforcement ⚑ ACCOMMODATION: Emerald ⚑ FACECLAIM: Cobie Smulders
ABOUT REAGAN
sexual assault and death of a spouse tw
Reagan always knew she was the apple of her mother’s eye. Not just because Shelby told her as much, but also because no matter what life threw at her, she always had her back, even when it felt like no-one else did. She was a rambunctious child, never really able to stay still or do what she was told, and it landed her in hot water with teachers and other disapproving authority figures alike. Still, Reagan didn’t let that stop her, continuing to express herself in whatever way she saw fit, even if that annoyed some people, because that was the person mother had raised her to be.
That was how her mother knew something had gone terribly wrong when Reagan was fourteen. Her usually loud and opiniated daughter became withdrawn and quiet after a party with some of her classmates, totally insular and refusing to let even Shelby in. It took a lot of gentle and patient asking from her mom before Reagan finally talked about what happened and the sexual assault at the hands of a group of senior boys that had robbed her of everything loud and shiny about her. While she eventually recovered physically and learnt to deal with what happened after an extensive amount of therapy at Shelby’s insistence, Reagan’s edges had sharpened, and her carefree attitude became a defensive mechanism to keep people at arm’s length.
What never changed was Reagan’s sense of right and wrong, her need to always help those in the most need, and so the natural path for her felt like a career in law enforcement. But she’d wouldn’t settle for being just any old cop, oh no. Reagan wanted to be an FBI agent, and that is exactly what she did. For years, she worked all over the States, solving crimes, getting justice, helping families and always returning home to her own whenever she could (even if sometimes that was a little bruised and bandaged). It was a promise she had made her wife Nikki, swearing to her that no matter how dangerous the assignment, she would always come back to her. She was the one with the dangerous job, she was the one that tracked down the worst of humanity, Nikki had the far safer job of making sure they spent the rest of their lives behind bars, an ADA with a long career ahead of her.
So when a machine gun was fired at both her and her beautiful, badass wife on the doorstep of their New York brownstone, Reagan assumed it was her fault. It was her fault that her wife had bled out in her arms, that she hadn’t moved fast enough to return fire, that she had lost the only person that made her feel as safe and loved as she was. Even after it turned out to have nothing to do with her, but a case that Nikki had been working unrelated to any case Reagan had worked on, she never stopped blaming herself for not being able to save her.
She was already doubting herself, doubting her skills and her accolades and her ability to do her job, but when she saw what was happening within the organisation that she had dedicated most of her adult life too, when she saw what her government was becoming, Reagan turned in her badge and her gun and returned home for good. She wouldn’t become complicit in something that went against every moral she’d ever had.
Instead, Reagan joined her mother and the rest of her family in the quest for life on board Sylvester Of The Sea, offering her years of experience in law enforcement to whatever organisation Sue Sylvester saw fit to have on board. It took a little while to find her sea legs, but Reagan was more than happy to leave behind the shambles of the life she could have had with Nikki, to remain at sea forever if that meant being free of the ghosts that haunted her. What better way to avoid your demons than hiding on a luxury cruise liner and pouring all of your attention into rebuilding something resembling society aboard it?