#and because i see. people. trying to use that bioluminescence to then make the sign language visible. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

murmiss · 1 year

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Hello everyone!

This is my first post on Tumblr, and I dedicated it to the avatar.I apologize in advance for the mistakes, English is not my native language.Please give me a sign if you want to continue, as this is just a trial chapter. If you like it, then I will publish a sequel. Don't be afraid to offer your ideas!In any case, the Clan and its features were invented by me, but you can use this idea

So~~~

Last night

Pairing: Jake/Reader/Neytiri

Warning on this chapter: my text is not very good, OOC is possible, slightly modified data about Pandora

Summary: Jake and Neytiri are forced to leave their clan to protect their children from Quaritch. Initially, they were flying towards the Omatikaya clan, but circumstances forced them to stop at the Night Hunters clan.There their paths cross with an ardent reader. But who knows what this meeting will turn out to be? What is this seemingly cheerful girl hiding? You'll find out about it later.

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It was dark for a long time, but for the members of the Nari'ton clan ("Eye of the Night") it was normal. Their clan is nocturnal, they hunt in the dark, while the dense forest is illuminated only by bioluminescent light coming from small flowers and mushrooms, as well as from the root system of some trees. The Twilight forest is not famous for a special variety of vegetation similar to tropical, giant dark trees with thick trunks and wide leaves were scattered for miles around, there are few flowers or something bright, like in the tropics, but no less fascinating.The twilight Navi themselves were different, their skin was dark, the color of blueberries, the stripes on their body were almost black, and their eyes were like honey, much brighter than those of Omaticaya or Metcaines. Their eyes seemed to glow in the dark.

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A girl was sitting in front of the fire, actively gesticulating and periodically jumping up from her seat.In front of her sat a flock of children, huddled together in fear. Obviously, she was telling some kind of another legend, because of which the village children will not sleep for a long time. Suddenly, there was a loud rumble announcing the arrival in the village. Surprised navi jumped up from their seats and rushed to the strangers.This is a rarity in their region. It is very difficult to get through windbreaks without encountering local fauna.

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You couldn't sit still and immediately rushed to the crowd, leaving behind the children trembling with fear by the fire. Breaking through the crowd, you saw very strange Navi - their skin was blue, they stood out from the rest and were clearly tortured and tired. "This is a family," you thought with interest, looking at strangers and mentally going over the clans known to you, assuming who it could be, while Oloeiktan nari'ton and a certain "Jake Suli" (you heard this name either from the crowd, or your Oloeiktan mentioned him) were talking. - And something in them was familiar to you, but, alas, you could not remember.

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(Indefinite time ago)

To get to the clan, the family had to get off their ikranes and walk. Jake was carrying little Tuk in his arms, exhausted from the long journey. Neytiri walked in silence, as did Neteyam, while Loak and Kiri discussed this forest. They were scared, and Jake knew it, but it was the best place at the moment, and, as he assumed, the last place where the heavenly people could stick their heads, fortunately, Ro'nsen (Oloeiktan) welcomed him and his family with open arms, and - after all, not every time - Toruk Makto arrives.

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-My close friend will help you master our Way, make yourself at home!- After hearing this phrase, you quietly turned on your heels and began to make your way to the fire so that your father's friend would not see you, but it was too late, a heavy hand landed on your shoulder, stopping your flight.

-Y/N te Niah'an will introduce you to our daily life.

You hissed, trying to protest, but Ro'nsen was adamant. "Well, well, wait, my revenge will be cruel!" You giggled to yourself and turned to Sally's family.

- I am Y/N, I see you, - you greeted the newcomers out of politeness, as if nothing had happened. "Come on, I'll take you to your hut." - you say when the crowd starts to disperse. You feel their eyes on you, trying not to pay attention to it, you go to one of the huts. The houses of the Nari'ton clan looked more like burrows than a house, they consisted of intertwined branches and seemed hidden.But, nevertheless, the lighting was good - paths of glowing sand were laid to huts, bonfires and other structures, and in the houses themselves and on small pillars (tree branches) there was something like a lantern created from a glowing stone inside - or was it not a stone? Jake looked around carefully, clearly surprised by some things and the overall appearance of the village, although he was not the only one surprised, the children admired many things.

"It's amazing, but it's even, one might say, cozy here," said Loak, peering at the uncomplicated patterns on the huts.

___________

While the children were peering at the views unusual for them, the views of Jake and Neytiri were completely devoted to their "mentor" - the girl was chattering something violently, waving her arms. Part of her hair was gathered into a small ponytail, while the rest were either braided into small pigtails or completely unbound. She looked like a typical representative of her clan-she had dark skin, jet-black curls and bright, piercing lemon eyes. Her outfit was simple, but nevertheless very thoughtful, red beads were woven into her pigtails, and feathers of the same color were woven into her loincloth.Neytiri didn't want to admit it, but this strange girl was pleasant to her, she aroused feelings of sympathy, and both Neytiri and Jake were disposed to her.

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The couple was so taken with their new acquaintance that they didn't even notice how they approached the hut.Until a cheerful voice distracted them from their thoughts: "We're here." Neytiri looked at the "hole" that appeared in front of them and involuntarily winced at the thought of living in this dark, dreary place. Although, surprisingly, there was light inside and even some decorative details.

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To be continued...

#avatar fanfiction #jake sully x reader #jake sully x you #neytiri x reader #avatar x reader #loak x reader #neteyam x reader #kiri x reader #tuk x reader #spider x reader

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kozykricket · 1 year

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this is gonna be a part 1 to a longer post - but like a lot of the minecraft community (at least the vocal Gamers on the Internet) are... very. extrinsically motivated. and they demand a lot from the game. I think they remember when they were young and felt the game had so much to do, when they were making the experiences themselves with their own creativity and now they expect everything to have a deep meaningful use. Frankly, I don't think things in minecraft need to be useful - I think most of the people on here can likely resonate with that. A mob simply being cute and not having practical use cases is nice. a new material thats mainly for decoration is nice See, I think. Mojang trying to pander to extrinsically motivated players who need a clear use... just leads to kinda awkward like. people get the wrong message. they get the message that mojang wants to make something with lots of uses and are failing at making it useful, when mojang just wants to add something thats... well, fun! and gives it a practical use where it makes sense (yes, copper is a great example) Of course, things can be given use over time, but I don't think pressure should be put on everything to be useful. I voted glow squid because generally speaking, stuff from votes doesn't go all that deep, its something that improves the world in a simple way by existing. are foxes useful? Nah, not really. So I thought... well, glow squids seem very fun to see, bioluminescence is cool. Didn't really care if they didnt have a use, in fact that made them better to me - a blank canvas where you can do anything with them Frankly though? I wish they didnt do ANYTHING with them. glowing signs... cmon, that couldve been done with glowstone dust. Same goes for shoehorned "uses" for the phantom. phantom membranes... well, I guess they're probably what let the phantom fly around... so i GUESS it makes sense to repair... the pair of bug wings from a dimension you dont find them in slow falling couldve just been from brewing feathers :/ but yknow, people dont like "useless" stuff being in the game (because they think mojang is lazy and bad game designers) people dont really get what the goal of minecraft is. anyways, on that note. allays are not better than other collection methods lmao but THEY ARE CUTE. I really wanted to just get this off my chest - I have more to say. but tl;dr is if we use the puddles/oceans method in terms of depth. people dont like seeing just. decorative little puddles? so mojang saysd okay this is a pond. but its a puddle. its totally fine that its a puddle, but they pretend it isnt just .... for what? to appease people who want everything to be useful? people say they miss old mc updates, and yknow what? yknow what i miss from them? when things weren't deeply designed, lol 1.20 is a great update so far, good blend of carefully designing stuff and also just. throwing random stuff in because why not.

#minecraft #minecraft thoughts #jake ramblings

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honourablejester · 3 years

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On the topic of ‘fantasy settings you’d like to see more of’:

Subterranean settings. Very specifically, non-dystopian subterranean settings. So many times in fantasy, underground is for dead or evil things, and in science fiction it’s for grim, post-apocalyptic survival stories. And I get it, I do. There’s no light underground, or very little and mostly artificial, and the list of natural hazards in RL mining/caving/drilling is stupendous. For anyone with claustrophobia, fear of the dark, fear of drowning, fear of being unable to breathe, etc, etc, etc, below ground is basically fear central. I have several of those fears myself, so I absolutely get this. There’s a reason the land of the dead in a lot of mythologies was underground.

But. Fantasy. As in magic. As in wonder. And Jules Verne’s ‘Journey to the Centre of the Earth’ was one of the first books I ever read out of the library. The idea of vast caverns and hollow earths, of great subterranean seas and cities and civilisations, really caught me.

There’s a lot you can do with a subterranean setting that is not darkness, slavery, death, blighted monsters crawling towards the surface, gateways into hell, etc. I know there are reasons for the associations. Underground is the realm of darkness, greed, suffocation. A lot of the big fantasy stories have tended towards a post-apocalyptic underground at best. Moria fell to the Balrog. The Deep Roads are where the Blight lives. The Underdark is aberration-and-slaver central. Dwarves, in particular, often seem to be a mid-apocalyptic race, clinging to their bastions of civilisation against the darkness, on the verge of being driven onto the surface. Below the surface, on any fantasy map, is where ‘Here Be Monsters’ tends to be written in huge, jagged letters. Because it’s hostile underground, RL or Fantasy. It always has been.

But. But the imagery you can have. Travelling down into the darkness to find wonders. Vast crystal caverns. Vertical civilisations, great cities built tier on tier around huge caves and shafts. Artificial suns. Bioluminescence. Giant fungal forests. Underground oceans. If you’ve ever watched those nature documentaries on extremophiles, the blind ghost fish with the lovely fins climbing lightless waterfalls. Pale, ethereal, sightless beings.

I have to say, even though it is post-apocalyptic, and the pale sightless beings were actually monsters in it, Blackreach in Skyrim at least had the awe and wonder down. This vast cavern full of majestic ruins, vast ghostly bioluminescent mushrooms, the golden glow of an artificial sun, the crystal chiming of nirnroot plants …

Underground can be a place of discovery. Wonder. Awe. Exploration. Community. Civilisation. I just would like to see some fantasy settings where that’s the bit that’s emphasised. Not the danger, not that everything down here is trying to kill you, not that living in darkness inherently makes you evil, not that the hell-portal is just down the incline there, but …

That there are wonders down here. There are living, thriving civilisations. There are beautiful, alien beings like nothing you’ve seen before. There are benign powers. There are ways to view things that are different: three-dimensional, sightless, lightless, but no less benign or valid.

Show me a dwarven city at the height of its power and prosperity, the roof of its cavern glowing in the light of its tiered suns. Show me ghostly spider people that act as the benign sages and weavers and oracles. Show me a subterranean Venice on the shores of a ghostly, lightless ocean, where bioluminescent mermaids come to trade. Show me a vast crystal cavern and the earth spirits that call it home. Show me the breath-takingly huge cavern sprawling outwards down an incline, an impossibly huge city carved tier on tier into its walls.

Show me the trade networks, gems and ores, yes, but also luminescent spider silks, strange crops grown under artificial suns, the million and one strange uses for fungus, two hundred different types of street food. Witch glass, magic, fertiliser (anyone who’s ever watched the David Attenborough cave documentary will remember the humungous mound of bat guano). Bioluminescent inks. Plant matter, bone, fossilised coal. A thriving trade in ornamental fungus for home decoration. Street stalls selling incredibly eldritch subterranean crustaceans onna stick. Street stalls offering the most delectable silicates for rock-eating species.

Show me life. Twenty six different species coming to trade hubs arranged at certain depths. Haggling. Universities. Water breathers. Methane breathers. Forty different variations on commercially available breathing charms and/or bubble helmets. A trade pidgin evolving using primarily sign languages, because the range of available vocal chords is a bit on the extreme side. Communication via light, or touch, or heat, or telepathy. There’s so many things you can do.

I’m not saying it can’t be dark and dangerous. It is still underground. I’m not even saying it can’t be horrifying. I adore Sunless Sea, after all, a game where the entire premise is an underground victorian ocean full of eldritch everything. Just … maybe don’t make it unrelentingly grim? Have some life down there. Some wonder. Some intrigue. Some cheer.

So much of fantasy underground is apocalyptic, dystopian or evil. Maybe just throw something a bit more, you know, interesting down there once in a while? Something that is not a long endless grind for survival against unrelenting horror. Make it so that people live down here, and are happy, and not because they’re torturing people for funsies, but because this is where they live and they’re fond of it, proud of it, have made a good life from it. Have it be a place people might want to visit. Put some wonders down there. Some joys.

… Possibly I just want less grimdark, post-apocalyptic fantasy in general, really. But yeah.

More wondrous fantasy undergrounds, please!

#random #fantasy #worldbuilding #subterranean #long post #more cheer please #and huge shiny caves

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brittie-frog · 3 years

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Fear Street Part 3

here we go:

- we love her already joking about marriage and reasons she can't

- this rhyme feels like foreshadowing because he's not blind - why does it exist, how did it come about??

- already got Hannah and Sarah flirting in public and the town drunk being a creep

- we do love Solomon though (for now at least) - and my brain just put together that his past name is Goode as in Nick Goode

- 'drinks blood of virgins' already sounds like such a nice lady

- if you find a book in a witch's hut that just has a list of demon names you don't start reading them aloud - that's stupid at least read in your head and show us the page

- just instantly going parting as if you didn't just get a horrifying prophecy about the devil

- yes Sarah protect your girl, insult the man and fuck in the woods

- I do like the dynamic of Deena being outspoken and not hiding her sexuality but Sarah being the one to push Hannah away and say that it's wrong and they shouldn't

- demons interrupting their time in the woods and the damn dog interrupting her self-care time

- HALF SIX and most of the morning work is done - it's still dark out and why didn't you wake her when you first started chores??

- also the fact that Hannah went out of her way to find Sarah and take her back to her house just to find a prayer passage when she's not meant to see her anymore is... ballsy - especially cause her mum comes home soon after and throws Sarah out the door

- pigs are terrifying if you think about it and also the noises of it eating its children doesn't help

- Poor Merryboy, he was nice dog when he wasn't making terrifying noises at the door

- yay Solomon for being the only non-homophobe in Union - also is the secret the seeing a possible demon or that she's gay and it wasn't a 'dalliance'

- he even left the eyes in a neat pile for ease of cleaning

- the horrifying imagery of the children lined up outside the hall like in the second movie showing correlation between Sarah's life and the people she cursed

- why are they letting the town drunk speak at the meeting like he actually has authority on the situation??

- is he trying to victim blame in a situation that he ran from and didn't see the conclusion of??

- at least all the other kids look guilt and like they don't want this to happen or their terrified of the curse but i hope it's cause they don't want to see their two friends get hung

- it's a stealth mission - clearly visible in in the grass and isn't being silent, throw something and instead of the person being like 'something was through and looking around the area for where it came from, spends 10 minutes looking at the item thrown giving plenty of time to sneak by

- she really said 'fuck all of them I'm gonna make the curse real cause they're a bunch of homophobes'

- the widow is dead time for a new witch to come to town

- of course it's Solomon should have put that together when I realised his last name because of the theory

- yeah you want to sacrifice one person but they get possessed and kill upwards of like 15 people which is a much bigger price to pay

- did he seriously think that Sarah would turn her back on the entire town and the person he cursed killed her brother?!?!

- that's a much more disgusting way of getting your hand cut off and least it explains why it was down there while her body was a car ride away

- wait punishment for witchcraft is hanging but they never did anything to the widow??

- I've just realised I still have another hour to go

- confessing to protect Hannah because no one is going to believe her if she blames Solomon

- I like these guys being nice and giving her a proper burial

- I've also just realised it's the same actor who plays Solomon and Nick, I need to go through the Imdb to find out other crossover actors other than the obvious

- at least the theories are correct that it's the Goode family behind it all and I'm not disappointed by the reveal

- first Deena stole a cop's gun then a cop car, Deena really does say ACAB

- yeah its gonna get a whole lot worse and that is so disgusting

- I already love this plan but did they seriously tell him their going to kill the Sherrif and not why - granted he just jumped in the car so...

- is there really time for a motivational speech right now when there are shut tons of killer after you??

- so glad we get the lyric songs back cause I don't think I could last two hours of a hour film with just 17th century instrumental

- but it's so pretty with the bioluminescent writing and neon signs

- I was waiting for the plan to go to shit and they just go after anyone

- okay that was very fast paced - but how many times is deena gonna cut open her hands and uts a lot of blood so its gonna be deep - they were on different hands so is she just gonna have two scars, one on each now.

- I was gonna ask how they're back in the cave system but the tree is there so the mall was built on top of the camp grounds so theirs obviously an entrance

- time for round 2 - I swear if Josh or any of them die now.. I dont know what I'll do

- well done Sarah finally making the Goode family face their consequences and none of the main 6 died in this film

- why does he have so many goats?? And is no one going to question why two girls covered in dirt and blood are walking out of Nick Goode's house??

- I just had to pause and cackle so glad it turned into a comedy at the end as that truck hit and then the music started with 'baby...'

- Martin in a school parking lot selling things to minors - has no teacher come out to check what he's doing cause I think even in 1990's that would seem a little weird

- Everyone getting their happy ending - Josh meets another cute girl, Sam and Deena have a date at Sarah Fier's grave - you know the usual

- of course ends on a bad note of the book being stolen but that was funny cause no one picks up an ancient time like your stealing a book from a friend that their reading, that quickly

And that's the end and I loved it and I want to spent this weekend reqatching all of them now.

#fear street #that was amazing #and as stated before #not disappointed in the twist because it was so well done #when i rewatch them #im gonna pay close attention to Nick's dialogue because it showed clips from 1978 #and him being like maybe i dont want to be what people expect of me #or some shit #but he still does #but that moment of guilt(?) was nice #wish he would have stuck with it and not sacrificed people but #at least hes probs dead now

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ohfugecannada · 3 years

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Oddworld: Role Switch au

So a couple of weeks(?) ago, @oddest-worlds posted an idea for an au where mudokons were an evil cultist species-supremacist power because of the mudokon moon incident and the glukkons were the enslaved natives. I really wanted to pitch in ideas/headcanons, but was busy with coursework at the time.

Fortunately, I just finished my project and now have more free time so I got to writing some stuff.... a lot of stuff... mainly just some points on the main trio of eusocial races (Mudokons, Glukkons and Sligs) and their role in the AU. So strap in!

(Fyi if you have/had other ideas that contradict the headcanons bellow, feel free to ignore those. Or pitch in some of your own ideas, I’d love to hear them!)

Glukkons

Were once a spiritually oriented race who practiced black magic, occultism and alchemy and were allies of the Mudokons thousands of years ago

When the mudokons declared themselves as the supreme race because of the mudokon moon, they were, understandably, upset and concerned

Fearing their once allies were drifting further away into cultist, species-supremacist behaviour, the glukkons set out to disprove the mudokons declaration of supremacy though their alchemical arts and unify their species once more

It’s said that some glukkon alchemists were successful in finding the answers they seeked out, but what those answers were have long since been lost to time

Now becoming more industrialised and realising the glukkons were a possible threat due to their alchemical powers, the mudokons orchestrated a war against them, nearly wiping the glukkons out in the process before thier surrender

After the war, disillusioned, outnumbered and on the brink of extinction, the glukkons began working for the mudokons, who belittled, oppressed and eventually enslaved them

Now most glukkons are born into subservience to the Mudokons, oblivious to their spiritual past, true history and culture

Still native glukkon tribes out in the wild in hiding from the mudokon empire

I mentioned this before, but I personally imagined the glukkons of this timeline walking on thier legs, which are still somewhat short, and retained thier long arms. Basically, they have the same body type to gibbons and similar long armed apes

Because they walk with their legs and not on their arms, most glukkons stand at almost half their canon height, roughly around 4 or 5 feet tall or so

In industrial captivity, most glukkons tend to have a grey or pale skintone like the glukkons we see in soulstorm

Native Glukkons born outside of captivity are much more diverse in skin colour, with their base colours ranging from brown to purple, red, pink or green etc

Along with This, they have the ability to change their skin colour like octopuses (which makes sense given their closest relatives evolutionarily are the oktigi and other octopus/cephalopod-like creatures)

Notably, they flash different colours across their face and skin when feeling strong emotions like sadness, anger, excitement etc. Similar to the mudokons in Abe’s Exoddus

Glukkons from certain tribes also have bioluminescent markings and patterns on their skin that are visible in the dark. Though, this trait is not as common

Using this colour changing ability, some glukkons are able to copy the colours and even textures of their environment and become one with the scenery. Essentially making themselves invisible. Of corse, this particular aspect of colour changing usually doesn’t come as naturally or involuntary to glukkons as the emotional-based changes. In most cases it takes years of training to master the art of invisibility

Much like the Mudokons in canon, industrial-born Glukks are born into captivity from a mother queen and their eggs are shipped off to be sold into slavery

Baby or young slave glukkons are raised alongside their siblings and cousins over a mudokon master and are usually kept together as something akin to a demented orphanage where youngling glukks are sent to work as soon as they can pick up a rag and bucket

@oddest-worlds, You described the mudokons as being cult like. I personally imagined this would ya know aside from the moon worshiping mudokon supremacy stuff manifest itself most in the way they control thier glukkon slaves

Glukkons in slavery, much like people born into cults, are indoctrinated at a young age to believe their mudokon masters are perfect, all knowing and benevolent beings, that the outside world beyond the factories is a savage, unforgiving wasteland where outsiders will try to lead them astray, and that they are better off and safer dedicating their lives to loyaly serving the mudokons

Glukks who challenge these beliefs, defy their mudokon masters or try and escape to the outside are often severely punished. Either from being removed from their glukkon group, being held in a cell for hours or days where they are interrogated and for their “crimes” or getting severe beatings.

Native free glukkons have a similar tribal society structure as the native mudokons in canon, with each tribe having their own distinctive culture

As said before, they practice the occult, black magic and, most prominently among different glukkon tribes, alchemy

As well as living in tune with nature, Glukkon alchemists often practice the art of transmutation, turning one type material or substance into another, and joining certain substances and/or materials together. Which they do in order to better understand the natural world around them

Nowadays, though, native glukkon civilisation is far from what it once was millennia ago

Thanks to the mudokons and other industrial societies either enslaving or killing off their numbers as well as building over their sacred lands, most native glukkon’s main priority is to hide away from the rest of society and to protect what little of their culture and traditions still remain

From my research I learned the practice of alchemy (or at least the traditional western version of it) could be traced back to Egypt and Thoth, the god of arts and sciences, so I thought it would make sense if at least some individual native glukkon tribes culture and overall aesthetic would be loosely based on the ancient Egyptians as a callback to this, with some small echos of the architecture we see with the glukkon aesthetics of the canon timeline plus the more native looking early concept art of glukkons

Also while researching alchemy I noticed one key aspect of it involved change and transmutation, I.e. turning base metals like lead into noble metals like gold. I thought about how this could also connect to their colour changing. Maybe some native glukkons believe the colour changing to be a glukkons most primal form of transmutation. And view the ability to blend in with the environment as a way of being one with nature, both in the figurative and literal sense. Or something else along those lines

In industrial propaganda, native glukkons are painted as savage barbarians and alchemists as swindlers and charlatans that lead gullable slave glukkons astray, filling their heads with doubt, or with the promise of bestowing riches and immortality for a price

Enslaved glukkon’s clothes tend to consist of whatever textiles they can get their hands on in the factories and what little the strict dress code implemented by their mudokon masters will allow

The main item of clothing worn by most glukk scrubs is a shoddily cobbled together shirt and overalls. Sorta like an even shabbier version of the basic glukkon pud uniform in munchs oddysee

Like many things, native or liberated glukkons tend to have a lot more freedom when it comes to what they wear

The more traditional fashions often worn by glukkon alchemists include long, loose fitting robes, sometimes with these thick ribbed shoulder pads. Pretty much the same as outfit worn by glukkons in the very early concept art back when they were still called “Oldger” or “Ociti”

Mudokons

A once spiritual race that possessed psychic powers and were allies to the Glukkons thousands of years ago

When the shape of a Mudokon pawprint appeared on one of Oddworld’s moons, some mudokons took this as a sign from the gods that they were the chosen race

Blinded by their self imposed delusions of grandeur, the first believers of the mudokon moon sign set out to prove the mudokon race’s superiority over all other races of Oddworld

The moon believers did this by recruiting more mudokon members into their tribe, slowly converting the many tribes into one unified empire, increased consumption of the planets resources and began to isolate themselves from the rest of Oddworld

Building massive towers that reached the skies, they began to spend most of thier time indoors, only looking up at the night sky to see thier sacred moon, the symbolic reminder of thier divinity over Oddworld

Gradually abandoned thier spiritual ways in favour of a more industrialised way of life. Only a few powerful figures within the Mudokon empire still use their psychic abilities such as possession

Growing more paranoid that their Glukkon allies and thier powers of alchemy would prove to be a threat to their rising power, the mudokons orchestrated a war against the glukkon tribes, nearly wiping them out in the process

After the war, the mudokon empire gave the queens of the last remaining glukkon tribes an ultimatum: give away thier children to the empire where they would be “employed”, “sheltered” and “safe”, or let them be born into a “primitive” tribal wasteland at the brink of extinction

The mudokons were able to enslave their once Glukkon allies and quickly rose to become the most powerful, and power hungry, civilisation in all of Oddworld

In terms of architecture and aesthetic, I figured many of those motifs from their spiritual/tribal past would subtly carry over to their current society, I’ll be it more metallic and industrialised. Like larger, dystopian dieselpunk versions of the huts, buildings and structures we see in Monsaic Lines and other native mudokon locations

The buildings they live and work in are also incredibly tall, with some structures in their urban cities reaching above the clouds (basically the opposite of the canon glukkons subterranean cities)

The Mudokons are the main industrial society with a stronghold over the planet

Having essentially brainwashed both thier mudokon citizens and glukkon slaves, the mudokon empire is singularly concerned with proving their dominion over the planet oddworld. with no reguard for the native creatures and cultures that inhabit it

Mudokon society is extremely dedicated to the idea they are the best civilisation in all of Oddworld

As far as they’re concerned, their empire is the supreme civilisation, unparalleled in architecture, politics, philosophy, military and art

And they are dead set on proving thier superiority to the other races of Oddworld, no matter the cost

Any historical records that makes mudokons civilisation and society look bad or less then perfect are either deeply hidden away or destroyed. Through this constant revisionism as erasure, their true history has been long forgotten

Only consistent part of their history is the mudokon moon, which they hold as a sacred symbol and a reminder of their power as the “chosen race”

Now, the sight of the mudokon moon is rare for any industrial borns due to the sky being covered by air pollution from the mudokons buildings and factories

Young mudokons are born as eggs by their respective queen and sent to be raised by a foster mudokon worker and, if they’re rich or well off, their many glukkon slaves

As I said before in the glukkon bit, the way glukkons are taught how to view the world is very similar to real life cult indoctrination and brainwashing. Young mudokons get a similar treatment in terms of their education

At an early age, mudokons are taught by their elders that oddworld belongs to the strong such as them, that the other races that cannot compare to the mudokons, And that all mudokons which as them are perfect and destined for greatness. (Provided they work hard and follow the rules of the empire...)

For a mudokon, lacking this sense of superiority over other races and drive to prove themselves as exceptional is frowned upon in thier society, and such mudokons are often either outcasted or placed in the lower ranking job roles

Like the glukkon workers in canon, adult mudokon workers are often employed as powerful bosses and rulers in the mudokon industries of food production, science, politics and/or religion to name a few

While some individual mudokon masters value mollah and material gain over other things, mudokon society as a whole isn’t quite as obsessed with mollah the same way glukkon society in canon is. They do hold monetary wealth and riches in high regard, of corse, but mostly as one of many status symbols to prove their superiority over others

Due to their belief of being the superior race, some mudokons are known to be extremely arrogant and self centred, to the point they’re often compeating with one another over who is the better mud

In terms of physical appearance, I imagine mudokons having a lot more angular features, like more talon like claws on their hands/feet to evoke a bird of prey

While mudokons are still omnivores, teeth such as their canids are more pronounced due to consuming more meat products such as scrab, Meech, slig and elum meats

I also feel like the slight uncanny-valley elements the mudokons already have should be subtly accentuated in the switch designs for creep factor and everything

unlike muds of canon, muds of the switch au tend to be on the lean, average and/or slightly cubby side rather then underweight and slightly bony in terms of their weight. Mostly down to having relatively better diet and quality of life, at least compared to their canon counterparts.

Mudokons also have way more feathers on their heads! Though, due to the airborne pollution of their industrial lifestyle, feather growth is mainly restricted to their head and face

don’t tend to grow as many feathers on other parts of their bodies like arms, legs etc

On top of this, as mudokons tend to live in colossal tower-like structures, they’ve evolved adaptations to life in higher attitudes such as naturally taking shorter breaths.

One popular form of dress for most moderate or high ranking mudokons consists of a shirt garment with a v-shaped neck (kinda like a Dashiki) a medium length skirt and long ornate robes or feathered cloak. Think more fancy versions of the native clothes worn by the mud shamins in canon.

How intricate, layered, extravagant and/or customised etc these clothes are depends on how high the individual mud wearing them is on the power/wealth hierarchy. Kinda like the wealth hierarchy with canon glukkons. Most lower class muds tend to look closer to the muds we see in canon with a short loincloth-like skirt and simple vest.

While the majority of mudokon society tends to be more industrialised, there are certain elite and powerful groups within the mudokon empire that still practice their spiritual psychic powers

One example of such a group is an elite task force of mudokon agents specifically trained to hone their psychokinetic abilities.

Fed on an exclusive diet of mind altering spooce shrubs, they are granted powerful and dangerous abilities (provided they don’t die from spooce overdose first). Such as the power to possess the minds and bodies of other beings

They are employed as black ops-like operatives by the mudokon empire to manipulate the affairs of other Oddworld nations and races behind the scenes with their powers of possession, as assassins to take out highly dangerous targets from afar with death via red ring explosion or possession induced head explosion, or as bodyguards to protect highly powerful and elite clients, usually mudokon queens. Essentially taking on a similar role to the Glocktigi in canon

Sligs

Race of amphibious/semi-aquatic swamp dwellers

Society not as complex or “advanced” as others like the glukkons or mudokons, technology wise

Somewhat nomadic as they tend to move around from place to place in colonies, though their preferd environments are wetlands, marshes, swamps, lakes and bogs

Were never enslaved by Glukkons, Mudokons or any other societies of mudos for that matter. probably since Sligs are seen as useless and impractical for such tasks anyway. I mean, what kind of peanut-headed chumps would have a legless species who can’t use their hands do their dirty work for them?! lol!

While functional on land, they’re a bit more adapted for life in water, with webbed hands and seal-like tails for swimming as well as gills in their mouths for breathing underwater

Walk with their hands when on land (similar to pantsless sligs in canon but slightly less awkward)

Use the highly dexterous tentacles on their faces to pick up objects and use tools while they walk or swim

Covering themselves up with dirt, moss, mud etc is a big part of their culture. Not because they think they’re ugly like the Sligs in canon, but because it provides good camouflage from larger creatures and predators wanting to eat them

If a Slig is spotted or about to be caught by anything that would want them as food, they can use their arms to leap away from their attacker

In terms of actual clothing, they don’t wear much aside from a covering that wraps around the middle section between their abdomen and their tail mostly so their butts don’t get cold when they go up on land. These coverings are usually either made of soft reeds weaved together, a leaf held together by a stick going through both ends or whatever they can get their tentacles on in thier surrounding environment

Even without fancy covering or camo, Sligs are pretty diverse when it comes to their appearance

Depending on the environment, their skin tone can range from light green to yellow, dark green, blueish-green, teal, brown or black to name a few

Some Sligs also have tiger like stripes similar to the ones on big bro Sligs in canon

And, of corse, there’s albino Sligs. How they’re treated tends to vary form colony to colony

Some outcast or even kill albinos, fearing their bright colour could attract predators

Other colonies are a lot more accepting of albinos, though they tend to be more protective of them due to, again, being more easy targets for predators

Most albino Sligs either take extra care to cover themselves with as camouflage as possible to hide their bright skin, or stay under the water for most of their lives, rarely ever venturing up to the surface world

Queens are also never seen on dry land, as their birthing process is significantly less painful underwater

While none of the queens in this timeline are as cripplingly obese as queens like Skillya in the canon timeline, most healthy queens are still rather large. Sorta like the size/weight of an average male elephant seal, or a salt water crocodile

Also, while some queens can still be jerkasses, they don’t usually eat their own young, as they don’t hold as much resentment towards them due to the less painful birthing process. Plus, their many drones usually bring them smaller fish and swamp dwelling creatures to keep them well fed

Baby sligs (or sliglets, as I like to call them) are born underwater and later take their first peek up to the surface after a couple of weeks

Raised by either one of their drone fathers or their many older siblings

baby Sligs are also born able to swim and walk on instinct, sort of like lizards. They only need to stick with their guardians for protection and to learn valuable life lessons from them like camouflage, avoiding predators, looking both ways before they cross the rivers etc

According to ex-Just Add Water employee Will on the Oddworld forums, Lorne Lanning originally envisioned Sligs having pig like fur, but this was cut from Oddysee due to technical limitations at the time. I headcanon that native Sligs had fur in the canon timeline but lost this trait due to their industrial lifestyle, similar to mudokon’s feathers. Hence in this timeline, some native Slig colonies do have fur.

usually more common, much thicker and more prominent on Sligs from colder climates as it helps them stay warm

The fur is also good for collecting dirt and growing moss and algae on, adding to the Sligs camouflage

I also have this headcanon that the noises sligs make for the BS and S’Mo BS commands in Oddysee and Exoddus gamespeak are remnants of their old language before they were enslaved by glukkons in canon. This is how Sligs communicate to each-other in this timeline: through a series of frog-like ribbit and croak vocalisations.

They do have the ability to speak language in the same way Mudokons and Glukkons do, I’ll be it in a limited capacity since they’re somewhat cut off from these language speaking societies and not used to talking in words. Think of it how, in canon, Gabbits like Munch can speak language with characters like Abe but can also call to other Gabbits through a dolphin-like “song”

Though they were never slaves, that doesn’t mean industrial societies like the Mudokon empire haven’t caused trouble for them

On top of occasionally hunting them to make high protein meat products and for sport, the Mudokon empire has also put their glukkon workers to use digging up Sligs swamplands for iron ore, as water that carried flakes of iron accumulated and settled in those swamps. As well as gathering peat from mires for fuel

These practices have been encroaching on the Sligs natural habitats. driving them out and disrupting their usual migration patterns

In a lot of cases, Mudokons purposefully try to drive off or exterminate Slig colonies. Viewing them as useless, dirty pests getting in the way of the precious resources that, much like everything else on Oddworld, the mudokons feel a sense of entitlement to

Alright, that all the points I got down for the big three. I do have some ideas for the other races like vykkers, steef, oktigi, meeches etc but for now, I’ll just leave it here. Again, please let me know what you think of all this and feel free to make contributions.

@southern-forests

#oddworld #au #aus #mudokons #glukkons #sligs #oddswitch #oddswitch au #role switch au #I had the most fun writing about swamp sligs

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years

Text

It’s The Avengers (03x10)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 10: Safehouse

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: soft moments

Word Count: It is an achievement to get this chapter out. Imma celebrate it. Oh fanfic Gods! Give me the power!

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The camera only had space made up with the galactic beauty swirling in deepest green that can put the stars to shame. The black hole seemed to become bigger as the camera has decided to use a snail's pace to zoom out, giving the audience quite the treat into the pool seems to disappear and reappear under the pale lids with unsurprisingly long lashes. Those veritable brows are wrinkled- enough to make one concerned but not enough to force someone to come and sit next to him with an ice-cream sundae as Peter did once- as if wondering something under their hypothetical breaths. The camera panned out more to show those thin lips going thinner, almost into one nearly invisible line. A long breath is drawn in and those long white fingers are made to rest on his chin as he looks up into an endless void and even Javier- who is being recorded by the other tiny drone- is thinking some stuff. The camera panned out further to show him half lying on the pilot seat while his legs rested on the cargo box behind, away from the controls. A true piece of art.

Javier: *signs as he points to his tablet with Loki's live feed* this God could be a fucking model. *fans himself*

It wasn't long before his voice broke the silence. "Maybe it is the food," he contemplates for the room where his only audience is a busy fur-baby licking his nethers. "Or maybe it was the people on Knowhere. Or it was just that...dingy old-" Loki's casually furry brows were now carrying a full frown- "lair. I don't know." The sigh the left his lungs was loud enough to reach to the back while he lifted his legs to ground himself and droop into his own lap, running his hands through his nearly greasy hair. When was the last time he washed them? "Why is she mad, Lulu?" Loki groans, trying to massage his head to get something out of it. Lulu, on the other hand, decided this was the best time to lie upside down and play with the one blue firefly that got stuck in their ship while they were leaving Knowhere. "Why has she locked herself back there?" He raised his head and asked some invisible force before looking at Javier's camera.

Loki: I'm not concerned for her *pretends to shrug* I just *blinks* don't want my ship to be flooded with her tears. Humans just have the tendency to go all out with their hurt and pain unlike some of us. *camera zooms in to his face* *resting bitch face on* Tell a word about this to her and I will cut you.

A click of something in the back immediately heightened Loki's senses to make his elbow slip from the chair, making him look for support long enough to pose in the chair with the nearest piece of reading material like a man lost in a completely different world, doing an award-worthy job of pretending to not see you come in. "Do we have some sort of digestive tablets on board?" Your hoarse voice asked while barely looking around the space. "I feel bloated. It's fucking disgusting." The groan you let out made Lulu sit up and tilt his head in your direction with his fur standing straight on his back. Loki tsked, still not looking up from the catalogue of the best sex robots on the market in Knowhere. "I told you not to eat those Cheese Puffs on Know-" "OH MY FUCKING GOD!!" Your rage-filled outburst caught the god by surprise, making him jolt up enough to be caught by the camera for the amusement of a certain group of people hungry for entertainment. "THosE FUckING chEEse puFFs wOn'T do me as much damage as your BICKERING!!!" The painful frustration that left your lungs made Javier's eyes go wide. Loki turned to look at the camera in pure confusion.

Loki: *a glorious frown on his face* *arms crossed* *bites lower lip* *inhales* *raises finger* maybe she is sexually frustrated? Space can no human touch can do that to you. And she clearly hasn't watched porn since we teleported *scoffs lightly* *rolls eyes* thank Valhalla for that. I no longer have to hear those filthy noises from across the wa- *stops mid-sentence when a mug comes flying to hit him in the head* "Pervert," you call from out of the frame while Loki ruffles his hair to remove the shards of ceramic caught in there. Loki: Okay *stares at the camera* maybe she's not sexually frustrated. *pauses with his lips still apart* *camera pans in* unless this tantrum is a human way of getting my atten- *another mug comes flying*

"Okay," Loki spun around in his chair to put the ship in full throttle for a destination only he knew about, "that's it. I did not want it to come to this but we are landing here." The camera spun to you and your crinkled brows. "We are supposed to get back your juice, man. Stop making unwanted pit-stops." Lulu's camera caught the disgust on Loki's face as he closed his eyes and shook his head lightly. "Stop saying that." "What?" You crossed your arms across your chest, narrowing your eyes while glaring at the back of his head. "Your juice?" "It's my essence." "But it is your juice. You took it out and now you want to put it back in." "The essence was extracted out of me and I need to consume it-" "You know that sounds worse, right?" "..." "Don't worry, baby, we'll get your bad bitch juice." "It's NOT a ju-why am I even arguing." "Because it's a turn on," you muttered under your breath before sitting down with Lulu in your lap and tying your seat belt. "What?" Loki turned his head around. "Nothing." Innocent as ever.

Loki: I think she's forgetting I have good ears. *narrows eyes and puckers his lips*

You: Oh I know he has super-hearing. That's why I leave my laptop on a decent volume with some classic porno on whenever I'm mad at him. *shrugs and leans back in the chair* *camera pans in on your smirk*

On a Planet Unknown The cameras took in the expanse of the barren planet the group had landed on. The ground seemed to have been hit with a drought. There were small hills in the distance and a few craters scattered all over. The star of this solar system shone too far, bright with pink hues on its tails, making everything drown in a tinge of blush. It was hard to miss this strange sentiment on Loki's face. A mixture of nostalgia with a side of something sour. He breathed in this atmosphere, closing his eyes to reminisce something the others did not have a clue about. A serene smile painted on his lips while his skin reflected the baby pink hues with delicate softness. Javier, talented with his work, used his hovering little drone cam to slowly and cautiously pan in on Loki's face, being really patient on the controls in his hands. "So this is where your juice is?" The zooming in stopped as Loki's eyes opened, blinked twice and sighed some of his internal frustration out. "My-" you could see the boiling lines of frustration on his face while Javier caught the suppressed delight on yours- "juice...is not here." "Then why are we here?" "To get rid of you-" You whipped your head faster than he could finish. "-r grey clouds." Suspicion fresh on your face, you waited for him to continue. "When I'd fallen into the wormhole after my... alleged demise, this was the first place I discovered after a series of misfortunes," Loki exhaled, looking at clean nothingness in front of them. It was not much but Javier zoomed in your face that did a slow shift from the barren view to the sharp face that reflected nothing but a painful softness in those melodramatic hues. "This-" your voice was softer than you wanted it to be- "was your...safehouse?" Loki inhaled and turned to give you a thoughtful look. "In some ways, yes." The hints of smile that were on Loki's face seemed to question the expression on your face as your lips parted in slight horror before he was witnessing you jump away from something and right into his arms with a scream. "Something touched my foot!!!" No one really told Javier to focus on a specific genre yet there he was, letting his camera do a slow-mo on the way Loki's arm came to the rescue of your waist, holding you steady. And close to him. Javier neither missed the frantic grasp of Loki's black shirt under his overcoat by your hands as you turned around to watch what menace had bothered to make you their next victim.

Javier: *signing* I do not know how to activate Lulu's stomach music otherwise I would have added a cheesy track too. *smiles* *somewhere on Earth a boy forgets to breathe*

"Relax," Loki soothed you as he looked down at the familiar purple and pink light crawling up through the cracks in the ground, "here. Look." He did not push you away, in fact, he held you just as he did while you followed his gaze to look at seedling sprouting through the ground and growing leaves and a bud right in front of you in real-time; the bonus being the glow-in-the-dark veins and petals that shone purple and pink. A muted 'Woah' left your lungs while Lulu examined the little plant, tapping at it with his paw to be amused by the ripple he created in the bioluminescent flora. Loki leaned a little closer to your ear while you were still gawking at the plant next to your feet. "Look up," he whispered. "Huh?" Your eyes instantly went away from the plant towards the field that now had an abundance of these flowers while trees grew at a distance carrying the same effect in their leaves- with purple fire trapped inside them. "What the hell is this place?!" You could barely breathe. Loki, on the other hand, was having a gala time at the expense of your expressions. "There was once a...lets say a conscious planet that went by the name Ego. Ego created an ecosystem that would survive in the absence of a star and when in the presence of it, it would camouflage itself to keep the biome intact, because, you know, greedy neighbours, bad rocks, invading aliens, yada yada." You look at the camera to shake your head. "What you are standing on right now is a chunk of that ecosystem." You looked around once again. "So, this thing was bigger than what it is now?" Loki was delighted by your interest. "Yes. It was ten times the size of the earth. And-" he added with such a gush of stress that you were scared he was going to burst any moment- "it had dinosaurs."

You: *guffaws* Haha! Nerd!

Loki: *suspiciously stared at the camera* What. I have interests too, you judgy clots. *somewhere outside the frame you softly shout 'It's thots!'* Yes. *does not waver his gaze from the camera* That.

"Damn! I could live in this place forever!" Loki narrowed his eyes in slight discomfort. "Weeeellll-" The camera cut to you looking like you saw a ghost. "EGO WAS PETER QUILL'S DAD????!!!!!" You shout right into the frame before your body freezes and the shock disappears into a blank slate. "Wait a second..." The camera was already turning to Loki who was shaking his head and whispering to himself, "She went there."

You: *confusion level: the white guy who went to India instead of Indiana* How did Quill's parent even have sex?!! *camera pans in on the gasp that escapes you* Tentacles! *the camera pans out to show Loki standing next to you with he arms crossed across his chest* Loki: *tired* Pervert.

"This is a dead rock with the remnant prints of Ego," he continued, "Come, let's go inside." Saying that he started to walk in some random direction according to you while bringing his hand for you to take. Your eyes went from those long fingers open and waiting for you before looking at the back of his head. A step more from him and you rushed your hand to take his, wrapping your fingers carefully around his palm. The camera was quick to catch your free hand going for the back of your ear, scratching some itch while silently walking some distance with the God. "Wh-" you cleared the vibrating disturbance in your throat- "where are we going?" "Just a few more steps." And true to his words, a few steps later, Loki stopped, making you pause right next to him. Letting go of your hand- something that made you grip those fingers in the other hand, trying to wring them dry of secrets only you knew- to feel something in the space in front of him with his palm. And when he did, he grabbed the space and yanked it back, revealing the space to give way to a cottage. A small, dark, probably comfy cottage. In the middle of nowhere. Covered in glowing purple moss. While you stood there gaping at the incomprehensible science happening in front of you, Loki undid the padlock on the front door to open and enter first. "Stay outside till I tell you to come in," he ordered, not realising you were too engrossed in the exterior architecture of this little house to listen to him. Javier sent one of his drones inside while waiting outside with you. "Dude!" You exhaled while punching Javier on his arm, "this is heaven!!!" Turning the camera to face him, Javier looked at it and signed 'is it though?'. "Alright, come in," Loki's voice called for you from inside. "Hiding your porn stash, Loki?" you stated quite rhetorically before the camera found you frozen at the entrance of what looked like a living room. And your eyes stuck on Loki's face softly illuminated by the blue-ish purple flames captured inside a foot long lamp in the shape of a cuboid. You stood there in a ten-second daze, your eyes stuck on the face that worked meticulously with four more similar lamps before turning to look at you, immediately making you throw your gaze at the lamps. "Nice lights," you stated, a little louder than usual, clearly confused by your own pitch. Loki walked around the place, hanging the lamps to help light up the cottage, allowing you, the cameras and Lulu to explore the place more freely. The cottage felt more spacious on the inside. There was a sofa facing a window where you stood, a small but decent workstation behind it next to the wall with small tools stacked by the size and category. The walls were decorated with a league of tools that only Loki knew about. "Is that a Ghili suit?" you had to ask. "Yes," Loki answered without looking from the kitchen, "and no, you cannot try it on." You tsked and Loki smiled. "So-" you clapped your hands and walked around casually, letting your legs stretch with each step- "where the beds at." Loki turned to face you, taking a step towards you, holding his arm up to take the support of the ceiling as he leaned in to get his face close to yours. Javier- clever as ever- zoomed in at the bulge of Loki's bicep wanting to get free of the lone t-shirt that barely got to see the light of the day with that unexplainably fashionable overcoat. There was a split second where the camera looked at Lulu scratching away at the sofa in the living room, drawing his attention with a click and gesturing something out of the frame to make the little furball pause the massacre for a few seconds before pressing his stomach.

Can't Keep My Eyes Off You Lo-Fi version starts playing through Lulu's stomach.

"There are no beds here, darling," Loki cooed with his signature smirk right in your face. "There is only a bed." Your composure might have slipped for a second with his model-like posture but you had seen enough fuckboys in your life to deal with the God's sense of play. "Oh," you stressed sullenly while taking off your jacket and throwing it on the couch over Lulu, "guess we'll have to make do with what we have." You knew your puppy dog eyes won't do much on this creature but that slight distortion in his gaze when he blinked to look down at your sweaty tank top before coming back to your face was worth it all.

You: *chuckling* no matter where they come from they are all horny at some point under it all, aren't they?! *looks away from the lens at Javier* Hmm? *mocking a laugh* What? I was just joking with him. That's how friends joke with each other. *glares at Javier with the smile still smacked on your face* Don't read into it. *camera swerves to show Javier sign* Javier: Will Mr Stark think this as a joke? Just asking? *camera swerves back to the one-eighty your expression does* You: Oh, he'll kill him.

Back On Earth "Ooooh, Tony's gonna murder that punk." Sam's crackling whisper was followed by nods and hums from Peter, Scott and Wanda. Vision was the only one who tilted his head in deep thought. "Is it because Loki held Y/N's hand and holding one's hand shows a sign of affection?" "Yes, our big robot baby," Scott sang while feeding Vision another popcorn. "But Wanda and Natasha hold hands too. But it seems absurd for me to get mad at that," the AI continued while Wanda chuckled. "Wanda and Natasha holding hands is akin to two sisters holding hands," Scott explained, "and that's the only concept we will go with if we all like our necks intact." All the boys agreed. "Now Loki, on the other hand, is seen as a threat by Tony because Y/N, his daughter, is young and still a baby in his eyes whom he wants to protect at all costs. While Loki- thanks to his chiselled looks and accurately hot manners- seems like the boy no father would want their daughter to date. Because a man like that takes seconds to make a girl fall in love with him. Look at the dude. Look at the bod. And that's when he is wearing clothes on clothes on clothes. No wonder Tony wouldn't want him within a hundred feet of his daughter." Now, everyone was looking at a sighing Scott giving heart eyes to Loki on the screen. The camera turned to show a previously busy-with-her-nails Natasha pausing to look at the Ant-Man and wonder. "You are in love with Loki." "Head over heels, woman," Scott smiled without looking away from the screen. "Tell me one thing," Peter asked out of curiosity while chewing on the popcorn, "you learned the word 'akin' today, didn't you?" "It was the word of the day on dictionary.com," he replied without missing a beat.

Space Farm Safehouse One of Javier's camera had followed you up the attic, while you went looking for a place to hang your wet clothes. Unlike the eerie space shown in the movies, this one was spacious, had an entire wall with a window and a sofa set in the direction to enjoy the view of the flora sparkling outside. Putting your clothes on what looked like a wooden chair in the corner, you sat down on the sofa, eyes stuck on the view outside. The camera rotated to capture the wave of purple embers riding the plants and the cracks of the ground. The camera watched you inhale when steps were heard coming up the stairs, a figure out of focus walking behind you, disappearing to let you feel the cushion dip next to you. "Feels one hell of a place hide from the world," you whispered, never blinking for the fear of missing it all. La vie en rose Louis Armstrong but it's raining Loki chuckled. "Who hurt you?" The playful grin on Loki's face turned to ash when he turned and watched you sniffle while huge tears fell from your eyes. The God's face knew a new type of fear when he turned to the camera.

Loki: *raises his hands in defence* I swear upon my own self I meant it as a joke. *looks at the camera* Tony, if you are seeing this, it was a joke.

"Why does it hurt so much?" You sobbed while your eyes never once stopped the tap that had been set free. "Even after so many years, why do all those old memories hurt so much?" Loki did open his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He brought his hand forward to keep it on your shoulder but stopped short, taking it up to your head before receding his hand back to himself. "W-" "I am having a good day and suddenly I cannot stop thinking about the time my mom ripped all my drawing because she wanted me to do something more 'productive'. It's been, what, twelve years and that stupid memory is fucking me up today." By this time you were ugly crying, trying to stop your snot from coming out of your nose. Loki shuffled where he sat, finally bringing his hand up to let his fingers touch your head. "There, there," he sputtered, the pain of embarrassment bright on his face. "Loki I-uh-I am sooo sorry!" You bawled, clearly confusing the God even more. "You don't have to be s-" "I met Frigga on Knowhere," you stated between your tears and jerks, making him pause where he sat. "And obviously she was supposed to meet you but got stuck with me for some reason. And then before we could come to you, I asked her if she was the good guy, you know. To make sure she was not going to hurt you. And she was super sweet and she smiled at me and then disappeared and I am so sorry you were not able to meet her because of me." It felt like ages passed when Loki blinked and brought himself to the current space and time. His brows furrowed and his iris seemed to open wide in some heavy revelation. "Is that why you have been struggling since we left Knowhere?" You sniffled and took the white rag that came out of frame, making the camera pan out to watch Lulu sitting by your feet ready with another rag for you. No one knew where he got them from. "Is this why you did not talk to me the entire trip?" You nodded before blowing your nose into the rag and tossing it into the basket kept in the corner. Loki sighed. "Y/N." He scooched closer to you, taking your shoulders to turn you towards him."Look at me." You did. "My mother disappearing on you is not your fault." You whimpered, forcing him to move each of his hand from your shoulder to your face, his fingers running the length, allowing his palm to anchor itself over your jaw. "Frigga was a Witch. And she was no ordinary Witch. If she found a way to meet you even after her death then I am confident that she will find a way to meet me too. Okay?" He waited for an answer. The camera panned in to look at your tear-smeared face nod in between his hands. "Now I want you to tell me something-" he sang soothingly being as gentle with his words as with those hands still stuck on your face- "did these old memories come up after you met her?" That guilty puppy look you gave him confirmed some fear of his. He said something under his breath that sounded like an alien curse. Almost drooping with his eyes closed, he pulled himself back to face you. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Y/N." He let his thumb stroke your cheek, neither of you realising how you leaned into his touch. "I think there is something else that made me go through it," you muttered through your hoarse throat. Loki simply nodded. "I think I'm about to start my-" "Period," Loki finished your sentence, sighing and taking his hands away from your face to let one arm move around your shoulder. "I know. I could hear your uterus howling on the ship." You adjusted yourself on the couch to bring your legs up and rest your head on his shoulder. "That must be quite scary for you, hearing my insides like that." "Ehh," Loki answered, looking at the scenery outside while meteors passed through the sky, lighting up when entering the atmosphere, "not as scary when your intestines growling before you let all the air out of your syste-ow!" "It's gas! It's normal. Get over it, you twat!" The sound of his chuckle reverberated throughout the cottage. Lulu slept at the foot of the couch while the two of you talked some more till sleep took over one and the other found a blanket to cover you and let your rest. "Let's find some cure for this bloody situation in the morning," Loki whispered to your snoring figure; finding himself sitting the foot of the sofa for a few more minutes before letting his hand pat your head a few times. Two pats and he moved his hand away, watching the camera entering the space. "What are you looking at?" he softly threw in Javier's direction, getting up and walking past him. "Go to sleep. I'll wake you up just with the first rays."

The Lounge "Oof! These idiots 'bout to fall in love." The camera zoomed out to show Rhodey sipping his morning coffee while Peter and Scott slept over each other on the couch, snoring quite loud while Zuko licked Peter's face while standing on the armrest. Rhodey looked at the duo, judging them and their will to sit there for more than twenty-four hours. "You guys are lucky Tony has another daughter to think about right now." He tsked and turned back to the TV, muttering 'fangirls' under his breath before walking away to get a refill.

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thedespairzone · 3 years

Text

The Enigma of Roger Roundhead

I’m pretty sure I was their biggest fan since the beginning. When I first saw them performing, they were busking in Bristol’s shopping district. It really is a nice city, and the amount of young, fresh-faced musicians you see on the street adds to its endearing appeal. You’ll find all sorts of singers and songwriters trying their luck with the public.

One Saturday, I was out with a friend. We were on our way to grab a bite to eat, and there they were. The strangest sight I had seen all day. Three men busking - something that would have usually been a normal occurrence. I barely even noticed the other two, the frontman was so uniquely captivating that I stopped in my tracks. I couldn’t take my eyes from him. There he stood, playing an acoustic guitar. From his neck downwards, there didn’t seem anything out of the ordinary about him - brown boots, cargos, vest, average build. But then there was his head. What looked to be a great, big, white papier-mâché ball. Some sort of gimmick, I thought; despite that I found it utterly enthralling.

With an accompanying banjo and a cajon, the trio sang away. My friend pulled at my arm, but I stayed still, paying an intense attention to the band. The humdrum of a passing group obscured my focus, and I came to.

“Yeah, sorry, just watching the buskers.”

I saw a cardboard sign on the floor. Written in a thick, black marker were the words Roger Roundhead and the Trashmen. I repeated the name out loud with a child-like curiosity.

“Fitting name.” My friend laughed. “Right, I’m starving, shall we get going?”

We went and got some food from the market stands, but still I couldn’t remove the image of Roger Roundhead from my mind.

When I later searched their name, I could find little about them. I found it strange that such an interesting performance didn’t have an online presence. There were no videos on YouTube, and no songs on Spotify. So I decided I had to follow them, to see their music, to have more than a thirty second glimpse. I was hooked.

I went to town on my own the following Saturday, in hopes that they’d be busking in the same spot. As luck would have it, they were. Playing the same song that I had heard before, this time I was able to sit down and listen properly to the whole thing.

It wasn’t even my sort of music, if I’m completely honest. It felt a little too political for my liking, and the rhythms and melodies weren’t particularly different to anything I had heard before. If anything, it was a little repetitive. But still, I tried not to blink for fear of missing as much as a second of Roger Roundhead and the Trashmen. Something about Roger unfalteringly drew me in, as if I was being compelled to simply sit and observe him. The song finished, and I looked around. Dotted about were a small number of other people who were equally invested in the group of buskers. After performing only a few songs, Roger Roundhead and the Trashmen packed up their belongings and left.

I watched them busk on a number of occasions, and quickly became familiar with all of their songs. Still, I was never able to discover an online presence - until I found out that they would be performing at a small venue called The Fleece. Though it wasn’t their own online presence, they were mentioned by another local band. Some friends were fans of them, and were already going to the concert. I instantly decided to tag along when the band stated that Roger Roundhead and the Trashmen would be opening for them.

Their opening performance was much like their busking performances. It had the exact same format, and they played the same songs. Still, I was unable to turn away from Roger. My friends were divided in opinion - half of them just wanted the main band to perform, the others were as captivated by the opening act as I was. And so I went on, going to concerts simply because Roger Roundhead and the Trashmen were the opening act. Performing at a number of different venues, I followed them as far as Cardiff. And then, they returned to Bristol, to perform at The Marble Factory. This time, however, would be their first time as a headlining act.

***

It was a Saturday night, and the place was packed. We stood like sardines, pressed against one another, clambering to reach the front beside the stage. I was lucky enough to get a front row view. I was with two of my friends - Will and Theo. They were the ones who were as equally fascinated by the band as I was at that first concert they opened at.

“When are they gonna start?” Will anxiously peered onto the stage. “I hate it when bands are late.”

By the time I had looked at Will, and looked back at the stage, the Trashmen were positioned ready to perform. Roger Roundhead was yet to show himself. Instead of their usual banjo and cajon, the Trashmen were equipped with a more standard drum kit and bass guitar. As we patiently waited, smoke filled the stage, and the lights dimmed. The blackness gave way to silent excitement. The crowed waited with anticipation. As if to treat us to an appetiser, strobe lights flashed. And shortly after, out emerged that familiar round head - the main course. Like a disco ball, the strobe lights seemed to bounce from him. Roger Roundhead brandished a new guitar; black and white circles rippled outwards sequentially from its centre. Cheers burst from the crowd, but soon were dulled into silence as Roger raised a finger to his round head.

“Shhhhh.”

As silence befell the venue, he began to play. The strobe lights flashed in time with the beats. The same riff, over and over. The drums rhythmically repeating a backing line, the bass reiterating the guitar’s melody. A continuous line, incessant repetition, I found myself mesmerised. I stared at Roger, at his guitar. The circles felt like they were moving. Roger bobbed in time with his playing. The smoke cleared, but the strobe lights pressed onwards with a lightning speed. Then Roger Roundhead began to sing.

His voice was masked by numerous strange vocal effects, but it was still distinctly him. Regardless, it was nothing like the music I had heard them play while busking. He swayed his hips forwards and backwards with each note of the rhythm. The distorted vocals droned, and took a backseat to the repeating melody. Over and over the notes repeated an enchanting hex, words that I couldn’t make out worming their way into my mind. Not of my own volition, I felt myself swaying with the rest of the crowd. Seeds of Roger Roundhead’s words planted themselves in my head. I watched them play, waving, swaying, leaning forwards past the barrier that guarded the stage.

Roger Roundhead plucked a final note, and we were thrust into darkness.

***

Echoes of light peppered my vision, though never truly lit the way. I called out to my friends, but made no sound. The little lights resonated with my intended vocalisations, seemingly responding to the noise I was trying to make.

“Hello?” I didn’t say.

Two lights blinked one after the other.

“Who’s there?”

A flurry of lights flickered and flashed - I spun around in place, watching the strobe orbs that surrounded me. Some were a warm glow of orange that phased in and out of blackness, others a pleasant green that jittered about, and a few were a soothing purple that would rise and sink. I swivelled and stumbled, searching for any indication of what was happening, searching for my friends. I was only met with more lights. As I waded through the glowing waters of the space around me, bioluminescence splashed in place, those little lights bouncing from my body. Like tiny fireflies with no weight, no form, the lights flittered about my person until I stopped moving.

“Hello?” I didn’t call out, again.

Two lights blinked one after the other, again.

“Hello!” I tried to shout.

The same lights blinked.

“What’s going on?”

The lights formed a line forwards, flashing in sequence, the ripples of a glowing array pointing me in a direction. I followed the path set before me, that seemed to stretch on as far as the eye could see. I trudged along, for no longer than thirty seconds, before I began to feel myself lifted up. I spun around, and below me were a series of lights, carrying me upon their formless selves. They raised me further, until I was met with a small circle. Again, more little lights, though this time they were white. I passed through the circle.

Passing the threshold, I felt myself accelerating. I saw lights beginning to pass by me, faster and faster, until they all formed a single blur around me. I began to shout, feelings of fear sloshed around and mixed together with adrenaline and ecstasy. Faster. Faster. I kept accelerating. A warping, wobbling, winding tunnel formed around me, spiralling smaller and smaller, into a thin tube. I reached an unimaginable velocity, and passed through the ever-narrowing pin-prick exit.

A painted world surrounded me, a sky of oils and watercolours, a mixed media painting that splattered and slurried vastly, trickling with wet whites and drying blues. Velvet hills of rolling green, with a smattering of flowers waving in time to a familiar rhythm. The music, it played still - Roger Roundhead performed. The lights danced with precise, rhythmic intentions. And at the centre of it all, Roger and his bandmates. I felt my form slip away, and watched my body return through the pin-prick entrance to this painted world. Sucked violently backwards, it flew. Then there I was; a little green light. Happy, content, and perfectly in time, I danced carelessly and unthinkingly.

I spent no longer than an evening, enjoying the music, enjoying the company of my shapeless compatriots, before a great typhoon whisked the world up, and a tremendous mash of lights and painted hills were washed away. And then there I was, in my body, laid in the same darkness as before. I stood up. I tried to walk forwards again, but tripped over something. I tumbled onto a soft surface, and, as I broke the fall with my hands, felt that it was a person. I pushed myself back up. I felt shuffling around me. Other people were rising. A confused murmur reverberated around me, and I participated in the crowd’s muttering.

The venue lights flashed on, and I saw before me an empty stage. A crowd of dazed people wobbled to their feet, and I scanned the room for my friends. I was aware of how thirsty I was, how stuffy the room was. It was hard to breathe, and I could see other people experiencing the same discomfort that I was feeling. Amidst the fray, I did not see my friends, but found my way to the exit. I gasped for air as I fell into a flowing street, the waves of people exiting the building dragged me into the fury of the blistering midday sun.

Wasn’t it night-time?

I scratched my head, trying to work out exactly how long the night had lasted, and whether everyone else had experienced what I had. The details of the painted world were fuzzy, fading in and out of my memory. It was like trying to remember a dream. The more I thought of it, the further it slipped away from me. I took my phone from my pocket, intending to check the time. The battery was dead. I took a bus home, grabbed a glass of water, and put my phone on charge.

I had fifty-seven missed calls, a plethora of text messages, and was inundated with social media notifications.

“Are you ok?”

“Where are you?”

“What’s going on?”

“Call me please.”

Voice mails from my parents and friends, all concerned as to where I was. It wouldn’t have been the first time I stayed out all night, it shouldn’t have been an issue. Then, my mum walked through the door. As soon as she saw me, she ran towards me, hitting me with a whirlwind of emotions; crying, shouting, hugging me, hitting me. When I nonchalantly asked her what the problem was, her jaw was agape.

She explained that I had been missing for three months. She had reported me missing to the police. My friends had been reporting missing too. I was still in a state of confusion, and my Mother’s babbling words didn’t help. I had been gone for an evening, not three months. Little anxious ideas raced around in my head, bouncing from wall to wall within my skull. It was possible that I had been spiked with something, and that I was still under the influence of it. I had been gone for an evening, I went to a concert. I hadn’t been gone for three months. I knew that, but my mother - if it was really her - didn’t. I tried to focus, to see if I could wake up from whatever this was. But I couldn’t.

Roger Roundhead and the Trashmen disappeared. I didn’t hear of any more performances by them, it’s almost as if they never existed. Maybe they’re still in the painted world, but I wouldn’t know. Everyone says I was missing for three months, and I tell them I don’t remember anything. My friends and I agreed to say that whenever anyone asked, but we still talk about that evening amongst ourselves. We have theories about it, but I know that we won’t ever come to a solid conclusion. At the end of it all, all we can do is reminisce, and hope that we can go back - just for an evening.

#creepypasta #original writing #short story #first person narrative #horror

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siro-cyll · 5 years

Photo

More with Ford and the merfolk/Siren. And another journal entry written by @rosenth0rne!

It has been several weeks since my first initial contact with the merfolk of the lake and I have done all that I can to establish some form of communication with them. There seems to be no sign of a native language which leads me to believe there is none as I have not discovered any other merfolk in the area. The one I am currently working with may be very much alone.

Before I came to this realization, I had been referring to the creature as ‘Siren’, believing them to be of the variant. Regardless, I’m keeping it.

My second attempt entailed getting as much fish food as I could at the local pet store, setting up a base where Siren had brought me back to shore, and yelling at the top of my lungs ‘HERE FISHY FISHY FISHY’ to see if it would answer. This resulted in me getting splashed in the face with a large wave. I am fairly certain I was slapped in the face with a large lake fish that was caught up within that wave. When I recovered, I noticed an icy glare from the water and the merfolk swam off with a cold shoulder. I may or may not have insulted them. Siren may understand more than I anticipated.

My third attempt had to be delayed due to a fishing competition on the lake. I began to panic. What if Siren was caught? What if one of the hooks hurt them? I fished out (pun intended) my second journal and found a storm spell that I had archived earlier this year. In my haste, I jumbled up the words in a way I cannot recount and watched as storm clouds gathered overhead. The substance that came down in heavy drops was not water, but a deep red color reminiscent of blood. I watched in horror as the fishermen screamed, scrambled off the lake, and back to shelter. It was then that I slowly closed my journal, turned on my heel and hastily retreated back to the cabin before anyone became the wiser. Siren is probably laughing their tail off. This was not one of my finest moments.

Attempt number… honestly, I lost count… The blood rain made it difficult to try anything. The forest rangers were keeping people away from the lake with an investigation of what the blood was. I was threatened with arrest on the third attempt to make it to the lakeside so I had to abandon seeing if Siren was okay or even there at all.

Once all the blood had been washed away by normal rain and the forest rangers got their unmentionables unwadded and left, I made it back out onto the lake, this time with a basket of food. Whole, dead fish for Siren and a sandwich for me. I was also prepared to go into the water with swim trunks. This attempt was going to play on the creature’s curiosity. I was going to pretend I was distressed over bringing too much food as loudly as possible to see if I could catch Siren’s attention. Apparently, the creature was in the area already because they popped their head up out of the water after the first call. Success!

It did take some coaxing to get Siren to come over to me but in the end, they relented and we ended up having lunch together. Siren lifted themselves out of the water and sat with me on the pier when they felt comfortable enough. I was ecstatic! I was able to see more of the creature. The shape and color of their scales, how their fins mimic human hair along the top of their head, the details along its body- though now that I’m writing this, I have come to the realization that I may have been staring in a way that would have gotten the daylights slapped out of me in any other situation.

Siren constantly looked over their shoulders the entire time while they were out of the water but calmed down over time. I did most of the talking, trying to find ways for them to understand me but all they did was stare at me with those large vibrant gold eyes against a sea of black and that cute little smile of theirs. While they can’t talk, the trills they make while trying to communicate is absolutely adorable. I can’t help but smile. Oh, dear Tesla, I’m falling for a fish. Is that even possible?

After lunch, Siren dove back into the water and tried to coax me in to follow them. Without a second thought, I began to take my shirt off, explaining that I had already anticipated going into the water. The idea of possibly being lured to my death via drowning did not occur to me at that point. Looking back now, Siren could have very well killed me for that “Fishy” attempt. I jumped into the water and I’m pretty sure I heard ‘COLD’ echoing off the cliffs around us in my voice which made me grin sheepishly. Hopefully, no one heard that.

Siren swam up to me and I felt a strange jolt in my chest as they took my hand and pulled me further out into the lake. I must have been grinning like an idiot the entire time considering my face hurt once we had made it to the middle. This was absolutely amazing! My face fell when I noticed Siren looking below them as if searching for something beneath the water. Before I could ask, they grinned, looked at me and pointed directly below them and dove under, only to come back up to see if I understood them. They wanted me to dive down and follow them. Gladly!

We swam for what felt like ten or fifteen minutes. During that time, we had entered a small cave at the bottom of the lake where it was pitch black. Siren had to guide me from there on since I did not bring any glow sticks with me. I had not anticipated anything like this. Twice, I felt them lift me up to what had to be an air pocket so I could breathe and gather air once more. They seemed to respond to my hand squeezing theirs when I was ready to do something or if I needed something. On the third trip, just before I needed to squeeze their hand again, we resurfaced.

Once I gathered myself, I looked around. My jaw dropped. Siren had brought me to a bioluminescence cave that had to be somewhere under the town. Caves like those are rare in freshwater, which makes me wonder if whatever was causing the bioluminescence was normal glow worms and their larvae or was it something only native to Gravity falls?! I slicked back my hair in excitement. I must have been rambling for ten minutes straight before I realized that Siren’s eyes glowed too as they watched me in silent comfort. In that instance, the radiance of the cave had paled in comparison.

#gravity falls #ford pines #siren #more messy sketches #and another hilarious and adorable entry from #rosenth0rne #she took my drawings and made them even gayer!#i imagine this all takes place over several weeks #all of ford's failed attempts at communication aren't written down #but i'm sure you can imagine all the shenanigans

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split-n-splice · 5 years

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"When you went from hero to villain, that must have been like an epic change. I mean, you're on a new path with no idea what comes next. Wasn't that kind of scary?" That line really got me thinking. Too much. So much that this happened. Villain origin story time, anybody?

Chapters: 6 Words: 26k Warnings: violence, language

[Chapter Guide | Ao3 | FFn ]

Chapter 1 - Proposition

A sustained bioluminescent glow like a green torch radiating from her palm was enough to light her way, allowing the young woman to purposefully walk the fog line of a quiet wooded highway after dark. It was times like this, when it actually benefited her and her alone, that she felt an inkling of gratitude for her gift. Although tonight it was in part because of the so-called gift that she was out here at all, so she couldn’t be all that thankful.

She’d had a bad day, to put it lightly. That was nothing new. She was parched. Her feet were sore from walking. Her stomach filed persistent complaints, and her jaw was still sore from being kicked by a man in a red jumpsuit, the blow having sent her flying out a gaping hole in a wall from three stories up. Her backside hurt a little too from the landing, but she fixated on walking the line to distract herself from the aches of the day. She was used to having the snot kicked out of her. She was expected to walk it off.

The ruffled young lady wasn’t a particularly pretty sight to see hitchhiking down an eerie highway in the dark. The rips in her clothes weren’t for fashion’s sake any more than the smudges of blood and dirt from the earlier skirmish were, and the scowl she reflexively shot to anyone who dared to slow down didn’t scream friendly or safe to pick up.

She was capable of heroic feats, but hitching a ride evidently wasn’t included in her skill set. Not looking like this anyway, and not when she was bitter enough to punch the throat of the next person who looked at her funny.

Though she may have been a wreck tonight, she stood tall and carried on because she had no choice unless she wanted to forfeit yet more dignity to wear the mask of a damsel in distress. Or worse, go home to bear her family’s lectures over a number of things – fighting solo and without her suit, minor theft, and staying out past curfew to name a few. It was too soon for her to tolerate any of that. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never.

She smirked as she fantasized never looking back, but that’s all it was. A fantasy. A wistful hope. She always went back after a day or two. She was duty-bound, so she had to eventually.

But not yet. She’d take her time this time.

She wasn’t sure where she’d go when she reached the next town, but she supposed she’d work out that detail when she got there. It was still only a far-off glow on an indistinct horizon, barely visible through the corridor of leafy trees. She’d been walking for so long already, and it was still so far, that she began to wonder if she’d even make it there by morning.

She guessed she must be at least halfway between the two cities when she decided she’d earned a break. She almost hoped that by sitting down on the fog line, she could give someone a bad day on the off chance she had a close call with a vehicle.

Head hanging between her knees, she sat long enough for the chill of the night to sink in. She might have nodded off there if she’d let herself, but instead she heaved a sigh and sat back, digging in her pocket for something to stave off the drowsiness. A flicker of green fire spouted from her fingertip, her unnatural flame coming altogether too naturally these days, but the crumpled cigarette hadn’t even touched her lips when a quiet hum caught her attention, and she turned to squint into what had now become a pair of blinding headlights approaching fast.

Go on, hit me. Do it, I dare ya, the young woman thought to herself, averting her eyes from the light now. Nonetheless, she tensed, ready to jump out of the road, and it was second-nature for a hand to curl into a fist with volatile energy coiling in her palm, preparing to release a blast that might save her life if it came to that.

Knowing she’d been spotted when the rumble of the engine softened, she relaxed a little. For the first time tonight, a driver didn’t simply slow down to gawp at her. The vehicle came to a full stop and she grit her teeth when she actually felt a twinge of apprehension.

The stealthy quiet of the idling vehicle made her suspect her brothers, and the thought might’ve granted her a moment of comfort – but whatever relief the notion gave her evaporated in the next moment.

A door popped open behind her, and as if that wasn’t enough to draw her attention, the driver called curtly, “Are you getting in or not?”

Yeah, he was definitely no brother of hers.

She stood, discarding the crumpled cigarette into the dark with a careless flick. The black SUV she faced now gleamed faintly, blending suspiciously well into the night, and she paused at the open passenger door to peer into the eerie vehicle. The blue glow from the dash shined off the lenses of the spectacled man inside, and she could make out a raised lip.

He didn’t look so friendly or safe himself.

“You sure about picking me up?” she wondered coldly as she scanned for signs of danger. For all she knew, this was a creep just looking to off her out here. It was certainly deserted enough on the highway this time of night that he could get away with just about anything if she didn’t have a surprise that packed a hell of a punch. Axe murderer or good citizen, she remembered she could handle anything thrown at her, so she decided she didn’t care so much about her safety anymore.

“Just get in, kid,” said the stranger.

He didn’t have to tell her twice. Nonetheless, she narrowed her eyes. “I’m not a kid, mister,” she shot wryly. Depending on who you asked, she wasn’t technically a minor anymore. Offense aside, she climbed in, not taking her sidelong stare off the dark figure as she took up the passenger seat.

The man scoffed when she reached for her seatbelt. She paused. “What?” she demanded in reflex, her nerves urging her that maybe she shouldn’t trap herself in here. She opted out of wearing it now.

“Nothing,” assured the man, waving it off. “So, where to?”

“Arriville.”

“Really? Wouldn’t you rather go home?”

If her team’s headquarters wasn’t advertised in Go City’s bay, the stranger’s question might have been more concerning. More and more people were recognizing her outside of her hero getup, so the assumption she lived in the other direction wasn’t completely alarming. It was more annoying than anything.

She took her eyes off the driver for a moment to glare at the dashed center line flicking by at a leisurely pace. When she didn’t reply, he must have mistook her silence as a yes because he made a U-turn.

The very idea that he was planning to take her back to Go City rekindled a fury in her.

She acted on impulse, lashing out with an unformed plan in mind involving hijacking the car. She’d been wholly prepared to slam him in the throat with a searing-hot fist to shove him out the door while he choked – but a pressure against her forehead, the silhouette in her glow, a click—

The dubious superhero froze up in an instant, her lethal hand still a few sparing inches from the man’s throat, and she glared into the cold sidelong stare the man held her in. As a superhuman mutant freak used to coming out on top, it was infuriatingly humbling to be at some creep’s mercy – and he wasn’t even in some gaudy getup. The tasteless unoriginality of an elementary handgun was all the more infuriating.

Still, the threat was clear-cut when there was no guesswork and little doubt of a revolver’s capabilities at point-blank.

Until now, miraculously, she had never been this intimate with the receiving end of any such crude firearm. She was accustomed to the ludicrous weapons of self-proclaimed masterminds and their more creative hands-off homicide approach. Given she couldn’t pick up on even the slightest tremble clued her in that this man had either a proficient poker face or really had no qualms with blowing her brains out in his nice new SUV, if it was even his at all.

By how fast he’d drawn, he must have been expecting to be threatened. He didn’t look especially surprised by her glow either, although she saw sweat dampening his brow in the momentary standoff.

“Don’t make me resort to this, kid,” the man asked, more tired than pleading. “I’d never get the stain out.”

The driver did not retract his weapon until she extinguished her glow and put away her own. As if to warn her not to try attacking again, he set the revolver on the dash above the wheel, close enough for him to snatch it if she made a second attempt.

Crossing her legs and slumping back, she tentatively settled in and tucked her hands under her pits. Leery and leaning as far from the driver as possible, she surveyed him.

As far as suspicious men went, he didn’t look particularly intimidating, at least not by her standards. Not bulky and muscular like the goons she’d beaten up earlier. He was just a sort of average guy in a suit, greasy mop resting unprofessionally around his shoulders, and he wore glasses pushed up on his little nose like a nerd. If she had to guess, he kept the gun close at hand to compensate for being so otherwise nonthreatening.

He may have been watching the road, but she had a queasy feeling he still held his attention on her. Knowing now the man had a gun handy for self-defense or other, and potentially the guts to pull a trigger, she decided it was in her best interest to bail the first chance she had.

She would have been content in waiting out the ride in silence, but the stranger apparently didn’t feel the same. Dark eyes wandered back to her and the man cleared his throat, piping up, “Shego, isn’t it?”

“Who’s asking?” she retorted. She wanted to evade that question, but she’d snipped before she could tell herself to keep her mouth shut.

“That’s not your real name, is it?” he jabbed, amused.

She shot him a quick scowl but was quiet. Her name wasn’t information she went around sharing with just anyone. Certainly not to strange men who recognized her as one of the local heroes.

“Fair enough,” accepted the driver, albeit displeased. He chewed on his next words for a moment before extending a hand. “Dr. Drakken,” he introduced.

She didn’t shake his hand. She harrumphed instead and slumped a little further, grumbling, “That’s a stupid name.”

“Really? I thought it sounded quite menac— nevermind. We’re getting off track here.”

She didn’t know what track that was, but she did know she didn’t want to be on it.

The man wiped his face as if to start over with a clean slate, and then looked his passenger over, catching her arching an eyebrow at him. “I heard about your showdown earlier at that college campus. I heard you lost.”

Jabbing at sore spots was a guaranteed way to get on her bad side. Trying not to let it show the remark bugged her, Shego merely scoffed. “Just because I didn’t deal the last blow doesn’t mean I lost,” she said confidently, recalling being literally kicked out of the building. “They were busted, so I win. Besides, I had somewhere better to be.”

“Like stumbling along the highway in the dark?” Dr. Dragon-or-whatever mocked.

“What’s it to you?” she snapped back at him.

The driver shrugged. “It’s funny. You pickpocketed earlier, too,” he went on wryly, ignoring her tense and her frown harden. “Yet by the way you ran in to stop those thieves earlier, I’d think you were some sort of hero.”

Shego wasn’t sure what to make of him playing dumb. He’d called her out on her alias already, and frankly she was too fed up with her superior’s stupid rules about secret identities to give a damn that the stranger recognized her without her foolish mask and uniform.

Instead of lashing out a second time, she only groaned and glared out the passenger window, watching the man’s faint reflection watching her. “This is why I don’t like the hero scene,” she carped. “Everyone knows everything.”

“I suppose the deputy I interviewed was right then. You are a hero,” said the driver, clearly amused.

“Doy,” she huffed. “Like you didn’t know.”

“You know, actually, I didn’t,” the man piped scathingly. She couldn’t tell if he was lying. “I’m from out of town, you see. Only here on business.”

“What? Journalism?” she retorted. After all, the man looked geeky enough for the job, and if he was chatting it up with officers at the scene of the crime – well, she’d been dogged by the media enough to take a guess.

For a second, Shego wondered how bad it would hurt if she jumped out of a vehicle going sixty down the highway. And then, as if he’d read her mind, the man hit a button and the doors locked with a muffled click. No big deal. She could still break a window and maybe – maybe still get shot. Reconsidering her journalist theory, her eyes narrowed at the revolver and then back to Dr. Kraken-whatever’s face.

“Then how did you know I live in Go City?” she challenged.

He shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

Even if she sensed he was telling the truth, there was something inherently untrustworthy about the man.

Shego turned her frown back to the road. If she could hold tight for a few more minutes, they’d be back in Go City, and then maybe she could make a break for it without having to resort to violence.

She was ready to give the stranger the silent treatment until then, but then he hunched forward to peer past her curtain of raven hair, squinting his eyes at her in the dark. She refused to meet his probing stare.

He hummed amicably, sitting back and stroking his chin. “You seem like troubled youth, yes?” he guessed, but she didn’t confirm. “When the man in blue stopped you from shoplifting earlier, I overheard you threaten to run away.” The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. When had he overheard that? She was giving a determined cold shoulder, but felt his eyes cast over her again. The knucklehead wasn’t going to let the conversation drop. “That’s why you’re out here, isn’t it?” he pressed. “I think I can help you. It could work out well for the both of us. I could use some assistance—”

At that, Shego tensed and wished she could scoot even closer to the door, but she was practically plastered against it already. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of an alarmed glance. “Forget it,” she said venomously, cutting him off. “Try Plymouth Avenue for cheap chicks.”

It took a moment before the spectacled geek grunted in displeasure. “Pass,” he dismissed, flapping a hand.

Shego sat up straight now, turning to fix him in an inquiring glare. “Care to elaborate on what kind of assistance you’re in need of then?” she asked crossly, then she wished she hadn’t. She wished she’d kept her mouth shut – and maybe threatened him to keep his shut too.

“Well if you had let me finish,” grumbled the man.

“Go on, I won’t interrupt,” she interjected with a small smirk at the flicker of annoyance shot her way.

“It’s simple. I need better lackeys,” the sketchy nerd clarified with a note of lingering distaste. He rubbed his temple and sighed. “That means thief, guard, gofer – a hand wherever one is needed. Henchmen for hire these days are all a bunch of klutzes. But you…” His face split with a grin. “You’re different. I have a good feeling about you.” He sounded optimistic as he shook a finger at her. She wanted to swat it away. Maybe break it.

Resisting the impulse, she scoffed. “Yo, did you miss the part about me being a hero?” And why the hell would she ever resign herself to being a grunt anyway?

“But are you really?” he shot at her wryly, and it made her falter.

Shego sized him up. The revolver on the dash served as a clue that this wasn’t some lame reporter baiting her bad habits into light for the sake of bogus gossip that passed as media coverage. And if he was – well, he’d soon learn he was going about it the wrong way. Gun or not, she wasn’t about to divulge anything to some strange man she met on a lonely highway.

And yet, better judgment aside, her interest was undeniably piqued. She kept a stony stare. “What makes you think I’m cut out for that line of work?” Furthermore, had this turned into a job interview?

“I saw with my own eyes you pickpocket a wallet and pack of smokes earlier,” stated the spectacled man. “Right before that fellow in tights came to hassle you in the convenience store over a candy bar.”

Big deal. Pickpocketing and shoplifting was nothing. She’d done worse under the guise of Shego. Headlines worse. Her reputation going sour was no secret. She almost told him so.

Instead she narrowed her eyes, displeased that he’d been stalking her. He must have been fairly decent at it, considering she hadn’t noticed she’d been followed for half the day or more.

She scoffed. “You think a couple misdemeanors mark me criminal material?”

“Something tells me you’re dissatisfied with your hand in life, that’s all,” he said simply, as if it were obvious.

And, hell, maybe it was, but so what? Unhappiness wasn’t enough to flag her as a bad person. She shrank a little though, refusing to confirm. The trivial thought crossed her mind that he might not have drawn that conclusion if she had only smiled more for the press.

“The policeman I spoke with earlier informed me you’ve given up your hero antics,” he added, flicking a glance over to her. A wry smirk stretched his lips. “With someone as skilled as you on my side,” he went on with enthusiasm and grossly heavy helping of flattery, “I bet I could make some real progress. You took out three of my best henchmen today all by yourself. There’s something about you, Shego, I can tell. I really think you’re my kind. And if you’ll humor me, I think I can convince you to see it too.”

Shego mulled it over for a moment. The chipper man was promising something that seemed so unreal, but the implication of something rebellious – it was alluring, to say the least, reeling her in. Though it was a charming notion, she didn’t buy it. She wasn’t so naïve as to take candy from a stranger, even if she had accepted the ride. “So, let me get this straight. You want to hire me? For hench-work,” she said slowly, skeptically. “Standard gig? Ass-kicking, kleptomania, manual labor?”

The shady figure chuckled quietly in stifled glee. “Sums it up,” he confirmed, sounding hopeful. “Standard benefits. Room and board, pay, freedom to exercise your talents—”

Freedom piqued her interest, so much so she almost impulsively blurted yes on the spot. She barely heard him add on the one bit that that brought her back to her senses.

“—and, ah, if you prove yourself loyal enough, maybe a cut of the spoils when I achieve world domination.”

And there it was. It wasn’t exactly a deal breaker, but it was reason enough to think twice. Raising a brow at him, Shego judged him and his delusions silently. If it wasn’t a personal vendetta, it was either seizing control of a city or taking over the world with these villain lunatics. The only thing that set this bozo apart from the rest of the losers was he was brazen enough to seek for her alliance outright, despite knowing for a fact she was a hero.

Which had to be the biggest clue he was destined to be a failure, because that was the most asinine thing any villain could suggest.

It was so crazy it just might work.

Shego pursed her lips in mock contemplation. “Hmm, yeah, that sounds fun – but you do realize I send guys like you to prison on a regular basis, right? I’m a hero – look it up. Why do you think I’d ever help you?”

A ballsy grin spread across the headcase’s face. “Good girls don’t go around trying to mug people for their cars,” he laughed. “That, and you’re still humoring me.”

A/N:

I wanted an opposite of Go City but Come City sounds nasty so Arriville (Arrival + ville suffix) it is. Also x2! Plymouth Rock is a breed of chicken and that was a prostitute joke and I think I'm witty, harr harr

#Drakken #Shego #Kim Possible #fanfiction #Devil Wears a Suit and Tie fic

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p-artsypants · 6 years

Text

In Due Time (4)

We’ve spent some time with Little Hiccup, how about Big Hiccup?

FF.net | Ao3

—

Big Hiccup stopped at home quickly to collect some supplies, including an empty inkwell to collect the algae. The sooner he got the ingredient, the sooner he could hide in his room until tomorrow evening. It would be an overnight trip, he concluded. The algae was only visible in the dark after all.

And without Toothless, it would be a hefty hike there and back anyway.

With his pack over his shoulder, Hiccup made his way downstairs. Stoick was sitting at the fire, eating breakfast. They just stared at each other before Stoick finally spoke. “Where are you going?”

“To the Northern Swamp. I have to get the algae, remember? I’ll be gone overnight.”

Stoick frowned, but didn’t protest. “Alright. Just be careful, okay?”

Hiccup smiled softly. It took them five years, but they had finally built a strong, warm, and open relationship. This Stoick just didn’t know how to talk to someone who wasn’t a ‘viking’. But he was still a dad, and he still loved his boy.

So Hiccup stepped up, hugged him around the neck, and said. “No worries, I’ll be fine.”

Stoick seemed startled at the sign of affection, but Hiccup just kept on smiling, waved, and headed out the door.

What greeted him outside, however, perplexed him.

Snotlout, Fishlegs, the Thornston twins, and Astrid with a crutch all stood waiting for him.

“What’re you guys doing?”

“You said we were going on a camping trip.” Snotlout offered. “So we went home and packed. I got twiddle dee and twiddle dumb to come too.”

“Whoa…” Said Tuffnut, immediately encroaching on his personal space. “You’re so tall…did Stoick just grab you by the arms and legs and pull?”

Hiccup sighed, and repeated his mantra. “No, I’m Hiccup from five years in the future. Gothi took past Hiccup and traded him with me, because I need to collect some algae, that no longer exists on Berk, for some medicine.”

“Oh, that makes total sense.” Tuff said with a casual shrug. “You know, when Ruff and I were 10, she fell out of a tree and snapped her spine. Gothi pulled the old switcher-oo and had me stop her from climbing the tree that day. It’s a pretty handy trick.”

“Wait wait wait…she’s done this before?”

Tuff shrugged. “Only with me, as far as I knew.”

“And you remember it?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

“Gothi said that I don’t remember going to the future.”

“Oh yeah, I don’t remember that either. But I remember going into the past and tying Ruffnut up so she didn’t break her back.”

“That’s why you did that!?” Ruff shouted. “Aw man, now I feel guilty for farting on your face while you were sleeping…”

So Hiccup would remember this trip when he returned. Perhaps there was still something here for him that Gothi wanted him to see.

“Are we going or what?” Asked Astrid, impatiently.

“Are you sure you can?” Hiccup asked, concerned. “Gothi didn’t want you walking—“

“I can handle it!” She hissed, with a redness on her cheeks.

“Well, I’m carrying your bag, at least.” He grabbed for it.

“I can handle it!” She hissed again, louder this time.

“I know you can, but I want to help you. We do this stuff for each other all the time in the future.” He pulled her bag off her shoulder. “You’ll get me back, I promise.”

Astrid huffed and looked away with a blush.

Without another word, Hiccup headed out towards the woods, gesturing for the others to follow.

Fishlegs caught up to him quickly. “So, when you said ‘we do this stuff for each other all the time in the future’ does that mean we’re all friends?”

Hiccup gave Fishlegs a little grin. “Sure does. We even start our own little community. A place called The Edge, miles and miles south of Berk.”

“We leave Berk?” Astrid asked with a little gasp.

“Not forever. In fact, we just returned back when I was sent here. But I convinced my dad to let us go, you know, teenage freedom and all that.”

“So what do we do at this ‘Edge’?” Asked Snotlout, with more sarcasm in his tone then necessary.

“Good question! We study dragons. Dragons and all the different groups of people we meet that far south.”

“We just study them? You mean like, we kill them and then dissect them?”

The vivid image popped into his head as he violently answered, “No!”

The group recoiled.

“I mean…we just…study them.”

“Do we at least study how to better kill them?” Asked Fishlegs.

Hiccup stopped walking. They were quite a good distance into the woods now, and no one from the village would hear them. “We…we don’t kill dragons anymore. There’s no need to.”

“What do you mean there’s no need?” Asked Astrid, using the opportunity to sit on a boulder.

“I mean…” he sighed. He couldn’t imagine this going over well. “I mean they don’t raid us anymore. They did for a while, to feed this huge dragon queen…but then I killed it. I lost my legs, and Berk won it’s freedom.”

The group was quiet before Snotlout burst out into laughter. “Hahaha! If you’re going to make up stories to make you seem cooler, at least make them believable! What, are you and Astrid betrothed, too?” He dissolved into more laughter.

But Hiccup simply stood there, with a smug smile on his face and waited.

Eventually, Snotlout stopped his laughing, and noticed Hiccup’s face. “Wait…”

He only smiled, winked, and continued on.

“Wait are you serious!? Come on man!”

—

Little Hiccup and Astrid were at the cove. They had flown together on Toothless while Stormfly followed along.

“Why are we out here in the middle of nowhere?” Hiccup asked, looking around the rather big bay.

“Because, this is where I first met Toothless. You and I come here sometimes…mostly when you’re overwhelmed with village life or chiefing duties.”

Hiccup climbed to sit up on the large boulder near the water. “It’s nice, peaceful.” He amended. “Hey Astrid?”

“Hmm?” She asked, joining him.

“How long have we been together?”

She smiled fondly. “About six months now.”

“Oh, that’s not very long…”

“No, not really,” she agreed. “But we’ve been dancing around each other for years now. Ever since…”

“The Red Death?” He questioned.

“Yeah. I brought you back to Berk after you lost your leg, and I was…worried. Seeing you wounded and bleeding like that…I thought I was going to lose you, and that’s when I realized I felt more for you than just camaraderie.”

His ears burned. “Oh.”

“So I kissed you when you woke up.”

“Y-Y-You did?” His voice cracked.

She grinned at him in amusement. It was fun seeing Hiccup flustered like this again. “Yep, and a few times after, too. But when we actually became a couple…” She told the story of the lightning strike and how she had gone blind. How he had bravely taken care of her while she couldn’t see, and assured her that everything would be okay. She told him with a blush how he had almost kissed her in the woods, but they were interrupted…only for them to finally kiss at sunset after she was healed.

Hiccup listened with a red face an a dopey grin. “I’m so smooth in the future…”

She cackled. “No you’re not, not by a long shot.”

He frowned.

—

Big Hiccup and the gang reached the Northern Swamp at sunset.

“Okay, so if we don’t kill dragons anymore, then what do we do with them?” Snotlout had been relentlessly badgering Hiccup for answers, and Hiccup delighted in one word answers with a smug grin.

He dropped he and Astrid’s packs on the ground. “Here. We’ll make camp here.”

“How do you know what the algae looks like?” Asked Fishlegs.

“Good question, Fishlegs. The algae is bioluminescent, so we’ll see it when night falls.”

Snotlout frustratedly dropped his own pack on the ground and started to violently set up a little tent.

“Bio-luma-scent?” Tuff asked, his nose upturned. “What does that mean?”

“It means it glows in the dark.” Hiccup provided, as he began to set up his own tent.

“Okay, will you answer my question now!?” Snotlout nearly shouted. “We don’t fight dragons anymore, but—?”

Hiccup gave a proud smile. “We ride them.”

The teens all stared at him, slack jawed.

“Really?”

“Really really.”

Snotlout was in his face suddenly, stars in his eyes. “What do I ride?! Please say its something cool!”

“You ride a Monstrous Nightmare named Hookfang.”

On occasion, when Snotlout was extremely happy, he would dance. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but the excitement in his body would just make him shimmy. And that’s precisely what he was doing now.

“Fishlegs, you ride a Gronckle named Meatlug.”

Fishlegs smiled, but Snotlout started giggling incessantly. “A Gronkle? You’d crush the poor thing!”

Hiccup so badly wanted Hookfang here at this moment. That dragon was so good about reprimanding Snotlout when he sold something mean, it wasn’t even funny. So Hiccup just shrugged. “And you, Snot, get your butt set on fire more often then not.”

The dancing ceased at Snotlout frowned. “Shut up, Hiccup.”

“Me next!” Cried Tuffnut. “What do I ride?”

“You and Ruff both ride on a Hideous Zippleback, named Barf and Belch.”

“Aw, I share a dragon with my stupid sister? Not cool…”

“But you each get your own head, with it’s own firepower.” Hiccup tried to placate, though the arguing continued.

Astrid had set up her tent without a word, and now sat on a log nearby, with her injured leg stretched out in front of her. “Dare I ask what I ride?”

“You ride Stormfly, a blue Deadly Nadder. You are probably the fastest and well-trained riders out of the village, behind me, of course.” He said, a little haughtily.

“Oh yeah? And what do you fly? A Terrible Terror?” Snotlout guffawed.

“Oh haha.” Hiccup said, blandly. “Actually, I ride—“

Their little chat was cut short by a roar of a dragon nearby, and everyone froze.

Astrid reached for her axe, but Hiccup held out a hand to stop her. “Everyone, stay calm, and don’t raise your weapons.”

“You’re trying to kill us!” Snotlout accused. “I knew we shouldn’t have come with you!”

But Hiccup hushed him again. The dragon called out again, louder, and a tingle went down Hiccup’s spine. He knew that roar like his own voice. But it was not a fuzzy feeling to hear it now, in the past.

A whistling sound echoed for a moment, and all was still.

“What was that?” Astrid asked.

“It sounded like a Nightfury…” Fishlegs answered.

“He’s here,” Hiccup provided. “Just stay calm and quiet.”

From the other side of the river came rustling in the bushes. Despite Hiccup’s instructions, everyone was on edge as they stared at the moving leaves.

Finally, a black dragon sauntered out, shaking it’s head sleepily. He trotted over to the river and drank the water.

“What is that?” Astrid asked, in a shocked whisper.

“That’s my Nightfury,” Hiccup responded with warmth. “But he’s not friendly yet, so I suggest we all mind our own business.”

The dragon had quenched it’s thirst, and then looked at the little camp, tilting it’s head.

“Hiccup! He’s looking at us!” Snotlout whisper-shouted.

“I know, I know…it’s probably curious why we haven’t started attacking yet.”

“What do we do!?” Ruffnut cried, almost too loud.

The Nightfury perked up at the sound.

“SSShhhh!!!” Hiccup scolded. “Not so loud. He doesn’t see us as a threat yet, so he’s not going to hurt us. But he won’t stay there forever.”

It’s like the Nightfury could hear him, and decided to defy him. With a great show of protest, the Nightfury wound up his tail and plopped his rear on the ground. Then he stretched out and rested his head on his paws, watching them.

“Great. We’re dead.” Snotlout threw his hands up.

“No, we’re not. His pupils are wide and his earflaps are relaxed. He’s just watching us.”

“But you said—“

“He’s not trained, is what I meant. My Toothless would never hurt anyone, but we can’t try our luck with him now.”

“Toothless?” Asked Tuff. “What kind of dumb name is that?”

“He has retractable teeth, the name just stuck.” Hiccup glanced back at the dragon, who watched them with wide, curious eyes. He didn’t look too different from the future. His earflaps were a little shorter now, and there weren’t as many scars on him.

But of course, he had two tail fins. It was jarring, since Hiccup had never seen him with both in tact.

Astrid watched Hiccup get lost in thought. Though the future he spoke of was far-fetched, she couldn’t help but believe him. Something in the way he looked at that dragon spoke volumes.

He knew it, maybe even better than he knew himself.

Finally, he turned back to the group. “We should probably find some firewood.”

“Nah uh, I’m not moving while that dragon is watching us!” Protested Snotlout.

“Fine.” Hiccup ‘hmph’ed, standing.

“I’ll come with you.” Astrid stood.

“No no no, you’ve done enough walking today, Milady.”

She scowled at him.

“But…if you’re up for it…”

Astrid smiled smugly as she followed him.

“Wait! Don’t leave us!” Fishlegs called.

“We’re not going far!” Astrid rolled her eyes. “Just be cool, like Hiccup said.”

“Imagine. Actually listening to Hiccup. We must be insane.”

—

It was late night on Berk, and Stoick was just about to go to bed. Tomorrow, Little Hiccup would be leaving, and he’d get his other son back. But now, there was a real fear in facing Big Hiccup again. He swore to apologize for his behavior back then…but who knew how he would react to it?

Carefully and quietly, Stoick climbed the stairs to the loft where Hiccup slept.

Little Hiccup was sound asleep, cuddled in his blankets and furs.

There were some nights, if he was being honest, when Stoick would come up to watch Hiccup sleep. As a child, he had watched because Gothi had worried about his size. He was just so small and sickly…the chances of him making to adulthood were slim.

And after the Red Death incident, Stoick was even more worried about his wounds. It wasn’t until the last few years that he had stopped checking in on him.

Stoick leaned in and kissed his son on the head, and then retreated to bed.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #hiccup #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #astrid #Astrid Hofferson #hiccstrid #smol!hiccup #time travel #in due time

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fantroll-purgatory · 6 years

Text

Dohrni Plerom

(Go big or go home, right? I’m gonna be doing sets of trios mostly because… they’re fun. I don’t have a grander motivation than that. Unlike the last three, there’s no easy myth-connection I’m making to base their relationships off of, so hopefully I’ll be able to quick explain them without getting it too bogged down in details! Anyways: Here’s Canon Disaster Troll #1! I feel like he’s lacking in a bit more than what Void usually implies.)

Yet again you’ve handed me a troll that I really and truly love. I can feel what you mean on the lacking front, though. I think he has his head so much in the clouds and in space and in everywhere ephemeral and unknown that he might need SOME grounding force? Some greater, tangible earthly pleasure? I guess we’ll get there.

Universe: Beforus!

Name: Dohrni Plerom

“Dohrni” comes from Turritopsis dohrnii, the so-called “Immortal Jellyfish”, which is a double tailed reference to both his Lusus and his unfortunate ability to hear the voices of elder beings, often associated with jellyfish. “Plerom” is just “Pleroma” with the last letter cut off. In Gnosticism, the greek Pleroma refers to a kind of totality of the divine- an all encompassing, filling force. The holy spirit and all that. Meta-wise, this refers to his Aspect, but also his fascination with all the lights just out of reach.

Age: Roughly 7 Sweeps

Theme/Story: Everyone’s favorite canon-breaking concept: More Fuschiabloods! We’ve got like 23 other symbols to get through, might as well use ‘em! Dohrni’s a weird freak of nature- a male Fuschiablood who isn’t in the running to be Empress. Everything seems to be perfect in his life- he’s head-over-fins for a wonderful guy, nobody is trying to kill him for existing, he can get practically anything he needs if he wants to, and he has a gigantic lifespan to ponder the secrets of the universe… and yet it doesn’t seem to be enough. Something is under his skin, something almost crawling, whispering in his ears and blinking lights just above his head. The question he asks: what if the sky and cosmos are one? What if the stars really just float in an inverted ocean? What if the universe is held together but fragile threads of spun music?

I’ve always found the idea of such a long lifespan terrifying, and I wonder if it might be a stressful thing for him in some ways. He will live to see so much change. So much live and die. His existence will cross across so many lifespans. What does everything else mean in the wake of this? What if he solves the mysteries of the world again and again only for them to continue to change? An appealing and yet overwhelming thought, for someone as naturally curious as him!

Strife Specibus: ??????

His symbol is almost a perfect Trident, just a bit rounded. But, Fuschiabloods battling with tridents? Groundbreaking. I half debated making it something silly like Crosskind, because the image of this tiny troll wielding a full on Roman Crucifix seemed hilarious.

Crosskind is kind of funny. Just wailing on someone with a crucifix. Something so big and bulky might not be especially appealing to someone who is so simple and cares about careful practicality underwater, though? And it does have more of a religious implication than is found through the rest of his character. If we were going to call up any religious symbol, it should be something from a Lovecraftian-type story.

…We know that dicekind is a weapon that can be possibly used, but we don’t really get to see it in effect very much. So maybe something like that?

…Topkind? A Trapezohedron Top. Trapezohedron being a reference to the Shining Trapezohedron, an artifact used by the Church of Starry Wisdom in Lovecraft’s The Haunter of the Dark. He could spin several tops and depending on the combinations of numbers, it could produce a particular effect? The tops could look like this:

…But more trapezoidal instead of triangular.

Fetch Modus: Chord Modus

While this Modus would work for a troll without Dohrni’s particular perception peculiarities, his synthathesia certainly makes it easier. Each item he puts in has a particular note and octave, and he has to play around with where it is placed so it makes a pleasing sounding chord with the other items in the stack with it. Too much dissonance and the whole chord goes flying out into the abyss.

I Love That.

Blood color: Fuschia

We… don’t really have a ton of info on just how Fuschiabloods work on Beforus. We know that they exist, and since Beforus doesn’t murder grubs indiscriminately, it would be plausible for there to be more than just Meenah running around. Though, given that trolls have a matriarchal ruling class, I guess a boy Fuschiablood wouldn’t mean so much? We know that there’s Fuschiablooded lusii out in the ocean on Alternia- perhaps that’s a holdover from when it was Beforus?

In any case, emotionally Dohrni fits the Fuschia Caste because when it comes down to it, he really is that “enigmatic, imaginative, sensitive” troll who possesses an air of mystery just for existing. And really, you don’t get more in the way of inertia than being at the bottom of the ocean.

I love this for him, really. It’s a good position for his personality.

Symbol and meaning: Bear with me, because this might seem kind of odd but…

PITTARIUS, THE PHILOSOPHER

Trolltag: [CC] caritiveCallant

“Caritive” essentially is a fancy way of saying “Without”, literally meaning a “lack of something”, in his case a lack of trouble or worry is what he’s trying to convey. He suffers from a lack of a lot of things, really. “Callant” is a Scots-English word meaning “Boy”, which makes Dohrni imply that he is the “Boy without”, the one who shouldn’t exist, who is without a place in the hierarchy.

I like it!

Quirk: In a duel reference to his symbol, Dohrni replaces his t’s with +’s and refuses to capitalize any of his w’s, even when it would make sense. When he talks, he often makes massive, run on sentences with basically no end in sight, because he doesn’t really know when to finish a thought on basically anything, so periods are the enemy

Special Abilities (if any): As a Fuschiablood, Dohrni is gifted with powerful psychic resistance, enough to withstand even the scream of a horrorterror. …Not that he knows that, of course, this being Beforus. Additionally, as a Seadweller, he possesses all the requisite “I live in the ocean” powers: Waterbreathing, pressure adaptability, fins, that kind of thing. One of the odd quirks of his biology has given him the dubious power of sound-to-light synthesia, which really only procs on music, especially what he’s dubbed “The music of the spheres” which he’s certain is coming from the beautiful rotation of the heavens or whatever. What he’s really seeing/hearing are the voices of The Furthest Ring.

Lusus: Dohrni lives in the bleached remains of a coral reef, down at the bottom of the sea, right before the continental shelf makes its sharp decline into darkness. His Lusus and he have a very non committal relationship- it being a gigantic, bioluminescent jellyfish and all that, Hard to hold a conversation with something without a brain. It mostly floats in a protective (?) stance above his hive, easily dwarfing the structure. Sometimes Dhorni will lure sea creatures into its waiting tentacles to let the old medusa have a special meal.

Maybe they can very rarely have a little bonding moment? Some jellyfish are able to shine light to communicate (mostly… to lure in prey but it’s fine). Maybe once in a blue moon it sings him a little song with lights? My TAZ bias might be influencing this desire, though.

Interests: Music Theory, Baroque (Trolloque?) Music, Metaphysics, Stargazing, Astronomy, Engaging In Pointless Monologues,

Maybe add an additional interest in philosophy, since his sign’s name Is The Philosopher. There’s more to pondering the mysteries of the universe than just looking at the stars. There are internal mysteries, too. What’s right and what’s wrong. What do we owe each other. Where do we go when we die. Pondering philosophical questions and ethical dilemmas could be interesting for him.

Maybe you could give him some interest in existential horror, too? Just to give him another physical hobby. Reading troll lovecraft. Thinking about what horror and terror truly MEAN. Thinking over all the scary possibilities and what he would do in any number of frightening scenarios?

You also mention it down in personality with his tendency to give little gifts to people he likes, but maybe you could make him a bit of a romantic? He doesn’t know how to verbalize emotions, so maybe he just tends to like doing things for people. He doesn’t really need all the money he’s got, so just… splurging on others?

And since he doesn’t like wearing shoes, maybe he could be interested in walking and playing around in tidepools? Carefully, of course. Exploration is just fun.

Appearance: For someone who should be as ostentatious as possible, Dohrni is about as simple as they come. Flashy materialism never appealed to his highbrow, lofty sensibilities. He keeps his outfits simple, but easy to ditch if the currents turn the wrong way. Suits in black and Fuschia, flowy and loose. Also, lots of heavy jewelry and layers seems like something of a hazard at the bottom of the sea. Dhorni does have a distinct hatred of shoes to be noted, and he has a huge weakness for jingly anklets, which his friends often prod him for. Many of his accessories (especially those damn anklets) are in an odd shade of yellow-green, a nod to his matesprit. Even the most ascetic of us cave to sentimentality every so often.

Personality: Dohrni has always been a bit quieter than other trolls. Locked up in his own head, always thinking, always looking, always searching for something just beyond his fingertips. It’s hard to figure out what’s going on behind those eyes of his much of the time, and its part of the reason he doesn’t have many friends. It’s hard to keep up with him when he’ll freeze up and not speak for an hour and then have swam so far off the course of the conversation you’d think he was in a totally different ocean. As might be expected, he’s hopeless in group conversations. Get past those murky waters and you’ll find that Dohrni is someone who you can talk to for hours at a time and he’ll always have something new to add, something further to say. He’s a good listener, but he’s an even better contributor, taking the threads of a idea and braiding them together into something new and inventive. Despite his tendency to feel deeply and talk forever, he’s terrible at putting feelings into words- he often showers targets of his affection with little gifts: pretty seashells, books on music, occasionally some little trinket he put a lot of heart into making even if it’s not so perfect.

I’m stealing a tiny bit from the Good Place here, but maybe an additional personality element you could add is that his tendency to have a Lot to say and think and add can lead to some indecisiveness? Like he’s supposed to make some decision but instead of remembering to be engaged in the world and Do It he just ends up sitting there thinking about all the connections and implications and possible consequences and almost ends up missing his chance to act?

Title: Seer of Void

While depressing in its implications (The Seer of Void, “He who sees nothing”) Dhorni is almost too perfect as a Seer- but it’s what fits his strengths as a person. Unlike it’s more active counterpart, the Mage, being a Seer forces Dhorni to actually interact with the people around him. While a Passive Class, the Seer who never speaks of what he sees is useless.

Dhorni often oscillates between acting as a Seer of Void and inverting to a Witch of Light about as often as the tides go in and out. There’s a give and take to him, a desire to change what can be done with the information he learns through his studies and long thinking sessions. Void allows him to see the potential inherent in the endless abyss, and he uses that information to try and inspire his friends into making something more of themselves.

In a way, Dohrni isn’t a Light player because he’s not really looking for answers, he’s looking for something to chase after. The stars are so fascinating to him because they are just out of reach. If only he could just brush one of the infinite lights with his fingers he may be satiated, but that simply isn’t going to happen. Which is what he needs to stay sane, really.

I think this is definitely suiting for his personality in a way that would be really beneficial for him. It gives him the kind of opportunity and outlet to explore what he wants without necessarily being… Directly in contact with it. Though he does risk a bout of Grimdarkness, I’m sure, if he gets a little too close or experience a little too much tragedy.

But yeah, I do like the idea of him being the passive knower, the one who understands and directs and helps others. He gets to learn and know and understand the nature of infinity, the nothing, the infinite possibilities, how much emptiness there is in which everything can be built… And his inversion, Witch of Light, encourages him to actively change and shape and maneuver the way information is utilized and perceived, shoving it aside to make way for the Infinitesimal Nature Of Reality. Encouraging everyone to consider the UNKNOWN, the IMPOSSIBLE, instead of just focusing on what’s known. Spreading his thoughtfulness to others.

…I just reiterated everything you said in more words, but I was just excited about the ramifications of this title in relation to him.

Land: The Land of Ice and Aurora

Dohrni’s bare feet touch down on something colder than he’s ever felt before. The ground is solid, and he slips and falls on his face as he tries to get his footing. The wind whips by, his bare skin aching within seconds, not used to the dry air. He looks up at the featureless, blue sky and feels true fear for the first time in ages. This, truly, must be hell.

And then night falls. The sky turns from blue to black, equally featureless. And then the air turns magnetic, and lights start to dance across the sky, unlike anything he’s ever seen before. Ribbons of color weave in and out, and Dohrni actually fully weeps at the sight, they’re so beautiful. He reaches up to touch them, even as far in the air as they are, and his fingers feel the touch of something warm. The aurora above him dissolve into sparks, the whole machinery vanishing in seconds, leaving him in the pitch dark.

He stands straight up, and brushes the ice off of his legs. There’s something to be found in this darkness, something that’s hiding the truth behind the light. And Dohrni will be damned if he’s just gonna let it eat up all of this beauty.

Stunning as ever. ;v;

Dream Planet: Derse

Dersites don’t always have something to rebel against. Dohrni doesn’t have any particular issues with the system itself (after all, it’s afforded him a lot of leeway in how he lives his life) and yet he’s restless. With nothing wrong directly in his face, his own Derse leaning makes him unable to settle down, unable to take things as they are. There must be more out there, more secrets that have been hidden, more things that we think we understand but are merely scratching the surface on.

Design:

Horns: Classic Fuschia horns, since that’s what we’ve seen all fuschias so far have.

Hair: I essentially decided to base it entirely off of how an eldritch creature would look. Very curly, messy, swooping.

Face: I wanted him to look curious, so I gave him a really thoughtful look. I wasn’t really sure whether he should be smiling or not… But I like the idea of him just kind of smiling and nodding in a group conversation while his brain is 1000 lightyears away. Also I gave him lime earrings, because of his matesprit.

Shirt: Flowy and easy to ditch.

Shorts: I wasn’t sure whether you meant Actual Suit or swimsuit, so I went with the latter. Primarily because it makes more sense for a character who is going to spend a great deal of time underwater to wear something waterproof, but also because it more easily exposes those jingly lime anklets he has going on down there.

Yet another good character! Sorry I didn’t have Tons of feedback to offer.

-CD

#persephoneanmystery #dohrni plerom #dohrni #plerom #fuschiablood #seadweller #review #redesign #cd review #submission

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im-the-king-of-the-ocean · 6 years

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Jim Lake Jr. and the Amulet of Daylight (Part 2)

Book 1 Part 1 Link (covers Jim becoming the Boy Who Lived, growing up, arrival to Hogwarts, and Sorting).

There’s going to be a Part 3, cause this got long before I reached the end of HP1.

After thinking about it some more, I’ve returned Miss Janeth to being the Matron of the Hospital Wing (she was briefly going to be the Charms Prof in a post I made about TH Hogwarts Teaching Staff).

Content Note: References to major character death (Barbara is Lily Potter so she died saving Jim in the past).

And here we go!

Jim, Toby, and Claire left the Vault as they found it, but afterwards Jim had a strange, prickly presence in the back of his mind, like something was calling to him. Unsettled by it, he’d refuse to listen. But Jim had a weird feeling he wasn’t done with the Amulet of Daylight.

Life returned to normal, with the noted change of Claire becoming Jim and Toby’s friend. Though, the friendship between Jim and Claire happened a bit quicker than it did for Toby and Claire.

This may have been due to the fact Toby went home for the winter holidays, but neither Claire nor Jim did. Claire, because her mother was the Minister of Magic and it was easier for her if Claire just remained at Hogwarts. Jim, because his father had been caught by the muggle police for some minor crime or another-Jim had stopped keeping track of all of them ages ago-and would be in prison through the spring.

Thus, Jim and Claire found they had Hogwarts almost to themselves for a few weeks and used that time to explore and have adventures.

They got lost an entire day because the staircases kept changing. After hours of roaming and chatting, they managed to find the perfect, most comfortable sitting room to rest in for a bit. However, when they tried to find it again later, they got lost a second time as the room had apparently vanished.

After a heated discussion on the matter, Jim and Claire formulated a plan to sneak each other into their respective common rooms to compare which had the better view. Claire argued Ravenclaw Tower, as it had a breathtaking view of the sky and the grounds. Jim, Slytherin Dungeon, because everyone could see the sky, but not everyone got visited by a giant, bioluminescent squid regularly. In the end, they agreed both common rooms were nice in their own ways. It was much more fun trying not to get caught than to argue anyway.

They briefly considered daring each other to so see how close they’d get to the Whomping Willow, but neither could go through with it. They had an epic snowball fight instead.

Kanjigar, the head of Gryffindor House who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, was Jim’s least favorite professor (due to the fact that Kanjigar always seemed to pick on Jim in class, asking him tough questions he clearly couldn’t know the answers to and such). He also happened to be one of the professors who stayed on the grounds during the break. During Jim and Claire’s snowball fight, he may have been walking by and Jim may or may not have “accidentally” thrown snowballs in his direction. Five times.

Jim got in trouble for this, but decided it was still worth it.

A bit of work came in the form of Claire insisting they research the Amulet of Daylight in the library after Jim told her about the persistent, weird presence in the back of his mind. Though they spend hours reading books, they came up with no explanations as to why it was happening.

For the first time in his life, Jim received holiday gifts that weren’t whatever odd item his father had easy access to and could shove in his general direction. A big package full of cookies, fudge, candies, odd and unique stones Toby thought he’d like, and a warm sweater knitted by Toby’s Nana arrived for him from the Domzalski house. Claire gave him a book of new recipes he’d never heard of before.

Jim’s gifts to his friends subsequently were to make (and send, in the case of Toby) them which dessert treat he thought they’d like best.

One quiet morning, Jim took a plate of fresh muffins he’d baked the night before down to the Hospital Wing and asked Miss Janeth for stories about his mother. They’d spend the next few hours talking.

Jim learned his mother had been the first hat-stall in over a decade. The Sorting Hat had debated back and forth between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff for her. Gryffindor, because it sensed great fierceness and stubbornness in Barbara. Hufflepuff, because it saw in her a deep kindness and desire to improve the lives of others. Barbara had gotten tired of its contemplations and told it to decide already. There were others waiting. The Sorting Hat took this into consideration and declared her Gryffindor.

Jim didn’t know how to feel about this, being a Slytherin himself, but he wouldn’t admit that to Miss Janeth.

One of Miss Janeth’s favorite memories about Barbara, as she told Jim, was Barbara’s aspirations of combining muggle and wizard medicine. Upon finding out that wizards used none of the muggle world’s advancements, Barbara had set about trying to change that. If, she’d reasoned, both worlds could help so many people, think of what they could do if they worked together.

After telling Jim that, Miss Janeth went silent. She walked back to her office, remained there for a few minutes, and then came back with a few of Barbara’s old notebooks and journals she’d managed to keep.

Jim didn’t understand pretty much anything scribbled in those books. Both because the concepts were far too advanced for him and because his mother’s handwriting was as horrible as his own. But he loved being able to hold something she’d once held and run his fingers over her chicken-scratch notes and doodles.

When he returned to his dormitory, Jim found the final gift he would receive. A delicate parcel he found by his bedside. On a small card attached to it, written in shimmering green ink, were the words:

To Jim Lake Jr.

To protect you as it did your mother and I on our wanderings of the castle

May you have just as many adventures

There was no name signed anywhere on the card, but it did smell strongly of the Potions classroom (though this only occurred to Jim some time later, when classes started again). Jim unwrapped the parcel to discover a fine Invisibility Cloak. His first use of it was to play a prank on Claire.

Then, one night, Jim woke in a panic and rushed from his dormitory. Something was wrong, something with the Amulet of Daylight (he wasn’t sure how he knew that). He threw the cloak over himself to traverse the castle undetected until he reached the Vault. Outside it, unseen, he witnessed a standoff between Kanjigar and a figure concealed in shadow. He couldn’t catch most of what they were saying before they left, but he knew what was happening.

Kanjigar was trying to steal the Amulet. Jim was sure of it. And he had to be stopped.

The next night, Jim used the Invisibility Cloak to sneak into the Restricted Section of the library, looking for clues on the Amulet of Daylight (and how to keep it safe). Alone, because, if he got in trouble, he didn’t want to get Claire in trouble with him.

Jim opened one book, which screamed at him. Jim ran.

Panicked, Jim didn’t look where he was going and end up in a room he’d never been in before. One with a strange mirror.

The mirror called to Jim in, drawing him in close.

Rather than see his own reflection, Jim saw a young woman, one a few years older than the 7th years, in the mirror.

At first, Jim didn’t recognize her. He’d never actually seen the woman before in his life. He found the way she smiled at him a little bit unnerving. But then he’d look at her eyes and know.

All his life, Jim had been told he had his mother’s eyes. He’d never really understood why. Sure, his eyes were blue, but lots of people had blue eyes. They weren’t that special. Except that they were. His mother had had blue eyes, like him, but the shade of blue they were was deeper and a bit more indigo that what was usual. They stood out in such a way that people noticed, and, more importantly, remembered. Jim had inherited those same eyes. He’d just never thought them unusual before because they were his. But looking at them on someone else, he began to understand.

“Mom?” Jim whispered. The woman in the Mirror of Erised, Barbara Lake, nodded.

Tentatively, Jim walked to the mirror. His gaze never left Barbara, who watched him in return.

“umm…hi?” He offered her in greeting. Jim bit his lip and adverted his gaze. What did you say to the mother you never knew? When that mother also happened to be in a mirror? “You…you aren’t real, are you? You’re just a magic mirror.” His voice choked up.

Barbara knelt down so she was at Jim’s level. She smiled at him in the way he always thought a mother would smile, but said nothing like Jim so desperately wanted.

He didn’t know what he wanted her to say exactly. Something motherly. Something…once, while in Diagon Alley buying groceries, Jim had witnessed a boy his own age being fitted for new robes. The boy had stepped off the fitting stool and his mother had hugged him. Jim stared at Barbara, knowing it was impossible. He flattened his hand against the mirror’s cold surface.

On the other side, Barbara’s hand met his own.

Jim’s vision swam before his eyes. Tears trickled down his face.

“I just want to know you.” He sobbed. But there was no reply. The mirror only showed desires. It did not grant them.

#trollhunters #harry potter au #jim lake jr #toby domzalski #claire nunez #barbara lake #jim is harry potter au #my au

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disneyworldforgrownups · 3 years

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Disney’s Animal Kingdom

As an adult visiting Disney World’s Animal Kingdom is home to my favorite ride, “Expedition Everest.” The Imagineering is so amazing. The ride queue orients you to your journey into central Asia. There are regal stone statues around you; the line features an elaborate exhibit of explorers and animals from the Himalayas. There are signs warning you to beware of the Yeti. And the speed and sharp turns on the ride really build the suspense. The backward loop in the dark is the best part, although it can make some people motion sick.

Sometimes people see a shadow of the Yeti depending on timing. It doesn’t happen every time, which makes it more interesting. I used to be terrified of “Expedition Everest” as a child. You only have to be 3’8’’ to ride. As soon as I hit that mark, my father started trying to talk me into riding “Expedition Everest.” I regret not riding sooner because I love it so much now.

The Animal Kingdom is much more interesting to me as an adult. As an adult, you can enjoy the slower pace of the Animal Kingdom than the Magic Kingdom. Some of the things I enjoyed I still enjoy as a grown-up. Such as the Flights of Wonder bird show. Yak and Yeti is an excellent Asian restaurant in Animal Kingdom, though I enjoy the different flavors and options more as an adult than I did as a child.

Most of the 9 rides in Animal Kingdom appeal to adults and older teens more than they appeal to kids. “Expedition Everest,” “Flights of Passage,” “Kilimanjaro Safaris,” “Dinosaur,” and more. They offer nighttime safaris, and at night they project an entire show onto the massive Tree of Life. At night “Pandora—Land of Avatar” features bioluminescence just like in the film, with vibrant colors glowing.

It feels like everything that I wouldn’t try or didn’t like about the Animal Kingdom as a child I can now appreciate and enjoy as an adult. Animal Kingdom is not the Magic Kingdom in terms of crowds or children. It is a mix of a theme park, and a zoo brought to life by Disney Imagineering. It offers even more fun and adventure to adults than to kids.

Resources to learn more:

https://www.mousehacking.com/blog/guide-to-animal-kingdom-for-adults

https://www.themeparkhipster.com/disney-animal-kingdom-for-adults/

https://magicinsiders.com/animal-kingdom-for-adults/

#disney #disneyparks #animalkingdom #pandora #disneyworld #expedition everest

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type-a-nomad · 6 years

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April 10

Last week I went on a road trip and it was an incredible way for this adventure to come to near its end.

I left for the road trip at 8am on Wednesday morning, packing my clothes in a trash bag I found under the kitchen sink. It was decided that I was going to be the driver for the road trip and, therefore, I would be renting the car in my own name. That process really hit me as an adult thing to do. The only time I’ve seen a car be rented is by my parents. Now, I’m the one signing the release form and grabbing the keys. To say I was nervous was an understatement. I was flooded with anxiety about driving. Firstly, I didn't know where we were or where we were going because I am entirely unfamiliar with the area. Secondly, in South Africa, you drive on the left side of the road and the steering wheel is on the right. This means the usual mindset I have of where I need to check for space is entirely thrown off and I need to re-calibrate the way I think of a car when I drive it. Thirdly, I had never driven the car we were about to take off in. Most cars here are manual— but I can’t drive manual so I paid extra for an automatic. Calling the car an automatic is a drastic overstatement. It was more like an automatic that had the brain of the car taken out so you cant change the gears, and it doesn't know how to either. Moreover, when it would accelerate if I really just floored it, the engine would hit 500-600 RPMs. That’s not supposed to happen in a Toyota Corolla. The first stop after getting the car and camping gear was Hout Bay. This is on the other side of Table Mountain from where I live. It’s secluded and smaller than the other alcove-like beaches around Cape Town. There was a long pier and a dock that was filled with little fishing boats that looked like they were off of a postcard from the 1970s. The entire scene was beautiful— except for one thing. There was an obese seal. Now, the image of an obese seal is kind of funny in a ridiculous way. But the reason it’s so fat is that a man sits with a huge bucket of fish and feeds it constantly so it’s more human-friendly and dependent on him. This seal is so fat it can’t hunt anymore. This is an animal that a human has taken out of the wild and essentially ruined it’s life through isolation from its own species and overfeeding. It was so fat it could barely move. I got over it though and got a large tray of fish and chips with salt and vinegar. It was fried heaven. Hout Bay is surrounded by mountains. When you’re there, it feels sort of like it could be God’s fish bowl. It’s so contained and observable from above, a little biome all by itself. We started from the bottom of the fishbowl and drove up the side along the mountain, eventually coming to Chapman’s peak, which looks down on all of Hout Bay. It was so surreal to see the tiny little dock where I had been 20 minutes before as a little speck and simultaneously knowing how many people with stories and families and dreams were sitting there, munching on fish and chips. After Chapman’s Peak, we headed down to Cape of Good Hope— the most Southwestern tip of the African continent. If that definition is confusing, it basically means there is one other place that is farther South than it, and it’s in the Eastern Cape. So, their claim to fame is the farthest Southwestern tip. The view was so incredible and expansive, that it actually looked like you could see the curve of the Earth on the horizon. On one hand, that makes sense because the slope of a sphere would be steepest at the poles. On the other hand, maybe I was just overexcited. There are two ways to describe what happened at the Cape of Good Hope. One is that we were adventurous and unconventional and hiked on a ledge to a cliff nobody else dared to go to. The other is that we lost the trail to the main peak with a lighthouse and just went with it. You can choose which narrative you like better- full reader’s discretion. We finished up the first day by driving to the first town we were staying at. It was night by then. We bought a cooking pot and pasta supplies for the rest of the week. I was absolutely starving even during grocery shopping, so by the time we pitched the tent and were lighting the fire it was not only pitch black outside but I was also getting grumpy. I made the responsible and courteous decision to curb my hunger with white wine instead of being snippy until I had finished cooking. The pasta was heaven by the time I finished, even though the mushroom cream sauce was out of a plastic bag container we had bought for approximately $1.50. We ate directly out of the pot of pasta with forks and were asleep by 10pm. The next morning was magical. I woke up to the sound of the waves crashing on the beach that was 50 yards from where I slept: in a tent, on a lawn, under a tree with a little fire pit near it. I walked down to the beach after eating leftover pasta for breakfast and it was breathtaking. I was so calm. Sand between my toes, watching the waves crash on the shore at 7:30am. That is me at my calmest. The second day was a long day of driving, so we pulled out of the camping grounds around 8. We drove up towards the Eastern Cape coast. The highway was mainly empty. For lunch we pulled into this little farm stand with a cafe and got amazing cheeseburgers. I don’t like driving for extended periods of time, especially on the opposite side of the road in a place I don’t know for more than 5 hours. But, the company and music in the car made it more than tolerable— I was blissed-out behind the wheel of a 2005 Toyota Corolla. Past that, I bought a huge bag of peanut M&Ms. The blue ones are my favorite. The right company is everything. I’m not sure if I’ve ever laughed that much in a single car ride, whether you measure that by straight time or percentage of time laughing, the statement holds. The best part was that I got to go to Myoli Beach again. This is my heaven on earth. This is me in my element. This is what bliss looks like and feels like to me. It is a sacred space. I will only go there with people I love. I also know that when I am an adult, if I ever need time or an escape, that’s where I am going to go. I don’t care about the flight time. I don’t care about the distance. I am going to make it happen. When we got there, I almost sprinted into the water. Soon, the lifeguards were screaming at me because apparently the currents are so chaotic and powerful that you have to swim between two cones they set up. I was mildly irritated by this because I wanted to just be alone, but I didn’t let it cramp my style. I was too happy. I was so proud. I did it. The first time I was there, I promised myself I would go back, and I executed. I think execution is one of my strengths. I am very creative and I dream a lot, but I also make the dreams happen. I don’t allow myself to be overwhelmed to the point of being paralyzed by all of the options and ideas my brain can create. It is really wonderful to live that way. However, there is a slight drawback and that is that I don’t really believe in just “letting things turn out the way they should”. I don't buy a laissez-faire mindset. I don’t think things just work themselves out. You make things turn out the way they should and I don’t really cut people slack around that, because I know that you can make things happen because I do all the time. It’s hard. It takes a toll on me. There’s pressure and sacrifice, but I am always trying my hardest to execute and a lot of the time it happens. I think the harder you try, the more things fall in your direction. Effort generates luck. The camping grounds we went to next we were staying at for two nights, so the drive was efficient and worth it. We pulled in and my jaw dropped. In front of us was the Indian Ocean. When I mean in front of us, I mean the tent was maybe 30 feet from the sea. Huge waves, crashing on the rocks that were the only thing in between us and the most beautiful thing in the world: the ocean. The other day, a friend asked me if I thought the ocean was conscious. I said I think it’s more complicated than that and I don’t really see it as a united, conscious being per say. I was then met with a brilliant observation: foam. There is so much yucky foam from the ocean that is filled with the pollutants of the sea. The ocean cleans itself. If the ocean wasn't conscious, why would it clean foreign objects from itself? Food for thought. Now onto the real food. For dinner that night I made an absolutely stunning pot of spaghetti and meatballs. I really was proud of myself for this one. I made it out of various ingredients and cans of meatballs all from the OK-minimark. It irritates me that it’s not called the mini-mart, but instead the minimark, like market. Why not just use mart? C’mon now people, I can’t be the one supplying all the good ideas. While the pasta cooked, I went and took a super quick shower in the facilities graciously provided by the camping site. I was walking out of the bathroom, towel securely turban-ed in my hair, and I saw the ocean light up in front of me. I thought I was hallucinating. Then I remembered that my friend Tim told me about seeing bioluminescent waves on one of his road trips, and I started sprinting towards my tent. I was completely out of breath upon arrival because I am in literally the worst shape of my life. I just said “bioluminescent… waves *gasps*” and pointed towards the ocean. Then, miracles took place in front of my eyes. For the next hour, the ocean was alive. The waves were lighting up. Millions, maybe even trillions, of plankton were crashing against each other and lighting up the waves as they curled and crashed in front of us. It was magic. Every time, it felt like my brain was glitching, but it was real. This was really happening. Then Mother Nature decided to test whether or not she could give us a heart attack and the clouds above us parted, revealing the Milky Way. In front of us, bioluminescent waves. Above us, the Milky Way. In our tummies, amazing spaghetti and meatballs. If this isn't what life is about, what is? The next day was quite lazy. It was raining and super windy. To the point where we were afraid to leave our little tent all alone in the storm in fear it might be blown away. Thankfully, as we went and got breakfast at the restaurant that was on the nature reserve we were camping at, it held it’s ground. It was not completely out of the question that the tent could have blown into the sea. I’m not sure what we would have done. That would have been no bueno. Because it was so rainy and cold, we decided to forgo the hike we had planned and went to a vineyard instead. No complaints from my end. Give me a tapas-style restaurant and a wine tasting and I am, literally, a happy-camper. The food was delicious and we were so full that we ended up just heating up the leftovers of the spaghetti that we had negligently left in the pot and eating that for dinner. The next morning, we packed up fairly early and hit the road. We stopped at a gas station for breakfast and I got a grilled cheese with tomato and a large cappuccino. This was the second to last day and I was in no way ready for this magical adventure to be over. The route to get to the last site was so incredibly scenic. We drove through ravines and over the mountains of Africa. The ground here is incredibly red and it contrasted with the green of the plants growing on it. The scientific reason for the redness is because there is a lot of iron in the soil. The locals say that the reason the earth is so red is the blood that has spilled over it. The last place we went to was in the mountains, our first venture inland away from the beach. Naturally, I was a little hesitant about this because the beach is my happy place. Oh, how wrong I was. And happily so. We stayed at an amazing hot springs in the middle of the South African Mountains. The pools each varied in temperature. It was all outside and directly out of the mountain beneath us. There was iron in the water, naturally, so it was a little reddish-brown. I loved it. I was so at-ease. Africa has pushed me to grow in many ways. One of the biggest, most important ways, is the groundedness I feel here. I am not a laid-back person. But the closest I get to that is feeling rooted and calm within myself. I don’t look for other people to tell me that I’m doing the right thing as much as I used to, I just know what is right and I pursue it. That’s how I feel here. Feet on the ground, heart in my chest, lungs full of beautiful air, eyes staring directly ahead: I am here. I am here. I am hopeful and present at the same time. I am settled in my own body and mind. I am centered in my own existence. I am ambitious without being discontent with my own reality. I am seeking and finding and accepting balance in my life. Namaste, motherfucker. That night, we made the most complex dinner yet. It was the last night of the road trip, so the special occasion warranted extravagance. We made fish and pasta. I made the pasta, naturally. It was all delicious and wonderful. The stars were so clear. It blows my mind to look up and think about the infinite expanse of space that we are hurtling around in like a little speck of dust carrying over 7 billion individual realities. It was freezing. Even when we were cooking dinner, I was shivering. The wind was impressively strong, blowing anything under 5 pounds at will. I felt a little annoyed at Mother Nature for that kind of treatment, given the amount of appreciation I had for her during the rest of the road trip. I thought she might do me a solid for that, turns out she really just doesn’t care. It’s alright. My feelings were only a little hurt. I can bounce back with pesto pasta. And I did. That night we stayed up late. Talking about the universe and morality and politics. It always amazes me when people say they don’t like politics. I understand not liking conflict. That’s one thing. But not “liking” politics doesn’t really seem like an option to me. Politics is your life. It’s your education. It’s your job. It’s your health. It’s your rights. How can you not “like” politics? That being said, I generally don’t like conflict. It feels like an attack and takes a lot of energy from me. Talking about conflicting political views taxes me a lot (no pun intended). When I hear about political issues, I want to do something about it. I want to take the steering wheel and fix all of the unfairness and damage that the world is doing to itself right now. I am usually an empathetic person, but when people don’t have that same urge, I find it really hard to understand. I think a large aspect of this is immaturity. My passion blinds me to an extent. I get carried away. I get overwhelmed by how necessary the issue is. I am unable to moderate my tone or conversation points to make what I’m saying digestible. This is somewhat of a pattern for me. It makes me feel very immature, embarrassed, and like I lack self-control. I know that if I really wanted to convince people of my views, if I wanted to really get the outcome I want, I would actually moderate what I’m saying. People don’t respond well to accusation and conflict. If I defend somebody or a view of mine, the natural response for the other person is to either take the offensive or see what I’m saying as the offensive and take the defensive of their (wrong…) opinion. It makes me think of an Albert Einstein quote: “insanity is repeating the same thing over and over again and expecting different results”. I go into arguments with the same amount of stubbornness and passion and intensity, and expect it to sway people. I get tunnel-vision and let go of what I know is persuasive and just unleash my feelings and views in one huge Tsunami Quinn. I am very evangelical about what I believe. When I really care, I suddenly become a Mormon with a picket sign screaming at girls in skirts that God hates them. When I think I know I’m right, usually because I’ve done extensive research I assume most people are way too lazy to even do a fraction of, my words slap people in the face like a verbal picket sign. This is one of the things I’m working on this year. I think I’ve become significantly more aware of it and it’s going to take time, but I’ll get there. I know I can execute, this goal will just take some more time than is ideal. Another point of self-improvement I am working on is self-image. That is, I don’t balance confidence and self-assurance well. I am either entirely confident, set in my views, plowing forward with full force and self-righteousness, or I am entirely insecure and see myself as the problem of a situation. Neither of these is ideal. The goal is to moderate. To find a point of confidence and humility and implement that into the way I approach the world. To be assured in my values and who I know I am, without being so confident that I have a closed-mindset and, therefore, close myself off to more improvement and learning. I have a very complex mind and am able to see a lot of nuance in the world. I am also empathetic. I can see the different elements and viewpoints of any situation. For example, I see why ISIS would be a persuasive institution to join in a desperate, isolating, and unfair situation. That being said, there are some absolute truths that I believe that I am not sure if it helps or harms me to see as absolute truths. The main of these is that I don’t believe in cutting others more slack than I would cut myself. I don’t think anyone who is persuaded to join ISIS is a good person. I think a bad person can regret and then move towards becoming a good person. I think a bad person can become a good person. I don’t think there is a fixed state of goodness or badness. Your goodness or badness hinges entirely on your actions and beliefs. That being said, if you are convinced that the right thing to do is kill others in an act of Jihad because they are Shi’iet Muslims instead of Sunni Muslims, or because they are of Western Culture, you’re a bad person. There is never a “right” reason to kill people you don't know. Those people are stories. They are families. They are lives and experiences and relationships and heartbreak and loss and happiness and complexity in the same way anyone else is. It is so selfish and entitled to claim a life that is not your own. To intervene in somebody’s path like that. To step into a family’s reality forever. To influence hundreds of people in an act of destruction. There is no information, persuasion, or excuse that justifies that mindset. That is an absolute badness to me. I hesitate to say evil because it is weighted by the connotation of Satan and religion and I don’t want this to be about that. It’s about goodness and badness. Killing people is bad. That is an absolute truth to me. Stealing from people is bad. That is an absolute truth to me. Whether that is robbing people of objects, of experiences, or of honesty, it’s all stealing. Material stealing is the least important. Money, objects, material, it’s all societally constructed and most of the time doesn’t destroy somebody’s wellbeing or happiness. Not to say that’s never the case, but *usually* it is not the case. However there are more dramatic versions of stealing. Lying is stealing the truth from somebody. Cheating is stealing a natural, right sequence of events from somebody. It’s all stealing, and it is deceptive, and selfish. Nobody has the right to change what should happen. Nobody has the right to pretend the truth is something it isn’t. That’s an absolute wrong to me. How am I supposed to live in a world where I have to doubt what the people around me say? That is an incredibly exhausting existence. That mindset towards lying and trust is another thing I have recently realized about myself. When I begin a relationship with anyone, friendship, professional, romantic, etc., I give that person my trust. I am vulnerable. I am open. I am true and I don’t hold back unless it will cause damage to somebody other than myself. However, if that trust is exploited, it is taken away by me in an extreme way. I withdraw entirely. It hurts me deeply to be betrayed, and it has happened many times. Yet, I would rather be hurt many times, than not keep my heart as open as I do. I feel everything so deeply and connect with people in an honest way on a daily basis, because I am brave enough to open myself to betrayal and pain. Often, I feel that pain. But, the worst pain and biggest loss of all is if I would let that betrayal make me close my heart off, and I need to have the courage to preserve that. A sort-of example of this is making dear friends here in South Africa. The wise thing to do is to keep my heart to myself. We all live on separate continents. Why would I get attached? I don’t accept that. I’ve thrown my heart to people here and, when they leave, it breaks. But I would rather feel love, loss, and pain than nothing at all.

- Q

p.s. I haven’t written yet about april 10+11 but that will come when the time is right. stay patient.

p.p.s if you haven't listened to the Fugees seriously, do it now. You might die tomorrow without hearing this genius.

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