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unholyplumpprincess · 4 years

Text

Courtship Rules

For the lovley @beansapalooza for some alien fucking! For Science!

Summary: You are a scientist on a team of four sent to live on a planet where xenomorphs inhabit. You are all to have your studies on them, everyone has their own thing. You? Well. You study their breeding habits. Perhaps getting a little TOO close to that knowledge. But, what better way to study than hands on? Or. In which a xenomorph recognizes you from its past and believes you to be its mate. Who are you to refuse getting stuffed full of eggs? All in the name of science, of course.

Reblogs > Likes. Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked, have your age in your bio to interact!

Fandom: Aliens - Aliens VS Predators

Relationship: Xenomorph/Reader

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Reader is gn and has a vulva + is chubby, oviposition/ovipositors, knotting, brief brief mentions of mild gore that’s canon typical, breeding, you get stuffed with alien eggs!

Words: 8.7k

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The mission relayed to you had been one of great importance. But it came with great dangers, dangers that you were all aware of.

There were four of you total, almost all scientists in your own regard. A handful of teams had come into contact with the creatures you were now studying. And all those teams had wound up dead.

One of those teams, years ago who had first come into contact with them, didn’t know what they were up against or what they were bringing back. Another team had been sent to wipe them out, claiming them to be parasites, with only one survivor to return to tell the tale. Another team had been sent out as a means to take one or two back to study in cages on their ships, once again did not go well. Another team sent to explore their home planet, weapons in hand because exterminating the species had been the only thing on their mind. Then another team, and another, and another...

Other teams were documented, more and more who wanted to quietly try and study or eliminate them. All failed. All dead.

~Rest under the cut~

All marked in the files and reports you had read with big red stamps over pictures of people just like you reading ‘deceased’. Graphic images of rib cages and stomachs burst open and people hanging in this thick, black goop. Holes stabbed straight through the hearts or the forehead. These aliens, classified under the term Xenomorph, were quick killing predators who were used to getting what they needed to survive.

They were bred that way, for fighting and survival.

Your team was to study them. All of you had different projects given to you. Your team consisted of: Lillian, a tall woman with wild curls of deep red down her back and warm brown skin with a smile that could break hearts. She studied how they lived through the hive, their ranking, and what was the importance of all of their systems. This also included breaking down their anatomy and worked hand in hand with you.

Frankie, a short haired nonbinary person with a deep olive skin tone and a soft, shy personality that could become booming once excited. They were in charge of monitoring and studying the physical data that came in through either physical samples of the hive or sediment from the planet to see if there was a connection. Different points of study depending on the surrounding climates.

And Mavrick, who was on the way taller side of all of you and needed to duck to get around your ship. A man with sharp teeth and charmingly an asshole, with wild hair and quite the affinity for Frankie. Who was, as far as you knew, married to them. He wasn’t a researcher, but an engineer who kept your ship intact and in one piece, in charge of sending messages out when supplies were needed.

And you? Well. You studied their breeding habits. There had been question that if a Queen was not involved, how did they breed? However, this hive didn’t have a queen. Two years ago, when your team was sent here, they did. But she passed away and became one with the hive walls. It had brought a concern to all of you thinking that there was no survival to continue so therefor no mission, and yet, it seemed in record time, they evolved in peculiar ways.

The xenomorphs before both exhibited both internal and external genitalia, but they didn’t seem to actually use said genitalia until recently when the Queen had died. Xenomorphs lived in freezing cold environments, their bodies just as cold blooded despite their blood being so high in acidity that it could melt a floor. Yet, even with these factors, they adapted to fit the environments they were in. Whether warm or cold.

Through varied, new studies on these peculiar evolutions, xenomorphs with internal genitalia could hold the eggs given to them by their external genitalia counterparts. But, the problem is the eggs don’t tend to survive unless the xenomorph stays warm enough for them to incubate. And refusing to leave their freezing cold hive meant there was no chance they could keep their bodies warm.

Curiosity and in the name of science had led your team to carefully place blankets near their hive. And with cameras you had been able to see how they built nests with these. The xenomorphs carrying the eggs staying warmed and inside of them in order to incubate these eggs until they could lay them. With trial and error, the xenomorphs learned that their bodies had to stay warm in order to hatch the eggs they now carried.

However, that could be too big a trial for a xenomorph always on the go and within the hive. They needed something more permanent that wasn’t hindering for them.

The older, bigger eggs from the Queen used to hatch with what was called ‘Face huggers’ due to their spider leg appearance and long tails. Other creatures on the planet were captured in their hive and used as hosts for these beings to lay their eggs and then curl up and die. It took either days or weeks depending on the size- or rank- of the xenomorph before the ‘chest burster’ would emerge and crack through the rib cage or abdomen of its host. Which left the xenomorphs to do very little than simply capture live prey and let the face huggers do the rest.

This new evolution for their spawn to continue required more work. And yet, the eggs that hatched from these evolved ones were what used to be deemed as ‘chest bursters’. Which took out the need for face huggers, so eliminating a step. Curiously, these young xenomorphs were hatched warm blooded and then developed to be cold blooded as they grew and adapted to their environment. Another proof of their steps in adaptability to fit the climates that surrounded them.

That’s what you and Lillian had been studying together, the new evolution of xenomorphs and how their bodies had adjusted as well as breeding patterns. It also seemed that the xenomorphs were now trying to branch out into warmer areas of the planet where beasts were, another study that Frankie was making note of. It made sense that the warm-blooded beings would be warm and could keep their eggs alive without needing to do all that work of blankets and trying to keep their own bodies warm. It saved a step.

However, the current study conducted by your team was monitoring how these creatures were going to use these beasts to their advantage.

There were cameras in the dark hive that let you guys see what was happening. But all of you had also figured out that a year in that you could suit up entirely head to toe and use the collected pheromones from the xenomorphs to mask that you were in the hive. It made physical data collection a lot easier, and less suspicious than sending in a humming drone to collect the data in a little basket.

Those got destroyed quite frequently by a well-aimed, sharp tail.

Though, it was still an unnerving task having to go into the hive. Going in the dark with only the screen on your goggles to see through the dark of the rooms or the small beams of light coming in from the ceiling. Hearing the taps of claws passing by as they worked through the hive. Sometimes there would be a hiss and you had to ensure you didn’t stiffen up or jump to draw attention to yourselves. Any sort of abnormality in behavior could be seen as an infiltrator.

The first time your team had done this, you went in a full group of four. It had been a scary time as you carefully moved in a group. But for the most part the xenomorphs thought you must have been a bigger drone worker, because they’d pass you guys by without so much as a glance or hesitation.

The jig had almost been up when you all had made it to the egg room, one of the warm-blooded creatures stuck on the wall suddenly howling out and a chest burster breaking from it.

Mavrick had drawn his gun first out of reflex, no sound from any of you as to not alert the hive. You understood as the reaction was only natural because you guys knew how dangerous they could all be. Yet, for some reason you had quickly scooped up the chest burster and held it to your chest. Vigorously shaking your head for reasons other than the fact it would have alerted the others to investigate and perhaps slaughter your team. Reason that, to this day, you couldn’t quite pinpoint why you did it.

The chest burster looked...different than the others. Its crown wasn’t smooth, but tall and pointed- very much like, well, a crown. It looked similar to a Queen xenomorph child, but there would be no need for a queen, and this one wasn’t quite big enough to classify as even that. Perhaps some new evolved version of a higher rank?

Regardless of these questions, you quickly had run to one of the small holes that led to another room. Gently, you’d set the shockingly quiet and non-squirming chest burster down, quickly shooing it off.

You can’t help but feel like it lingered to look at you- but you knew these creatures were very well almost near blind, fairly near sighted. Everything seen in a blurry black and white for them. There was no way it could have seen you in that grand of detail- and your team wasn’t sure about how well their memories held at that time. So, there was no guarantee it was trying to actually see or remember you in some way.

It had been a scary moment for all of you. Your human instincts all told you to run or to kill it, and yet you felt this pull to keep it alive. Perhaps it was just because you had been studying them for so long that you were attached to this hive. That would make sense, even if you knew that at a moment’s notice the xenomorphs would take you out for infiltrating. A clean, swift death from either a tail or their strange miniature mouths.

Sort of how people back on Earth would care for a lion pride, knowing full well they could be killed if they so much as stopped feeding them.

Today, a year later, you have to go into the hive. You do this as often as you could, nearly once a week in order to collect physical data. Since you’re the only one who feels particularly brave enough to do it so often, you don’t mind the everyday suit up in order to get better data on all of your studies.

However, the reason today was due to one of the cameras having fallen off the wall of the hive looking into the nesting room. It was crucial to have it up, especially since you were focusing on studying their new mating and breeding habits. One of which being how they were trying to figure out how to use beasts like they had in the past to hold their eggs. But, the old-fashioned way of a face hugger implanting it in their chest clearly wasn’t going to happen.

Pheromones are sprayed across your pitch-black suit and helmet to ensure you blended in with the hive. The helmet was unnecessary for planet survival, but necessary in case of an accident; Oxygen was clean and the air was as cold as a fresh winter day, but it allowed you to see in the dim space of their hive, as well as protected your head if you got knocked over.

And if you did get knocked over, you’d rather that the hive members would have to try to work for their kill at least.

You keep your cool as you head out of the ship, a camera installed in the front of your suit ensuring that your team could monitor if something went wrong. You keep quiet as you navigate the halls as easily as you would your ship once inside the hive, making sure to keep moving when you hear the taps of claws. If you startled or held still, they would know something was up, so you keep as if you are one of them. As you always did.

The nesting room is a larger room in the center of the hive, the ceiling open to allow light to be mainly focused here with only spider webs of black goop keeping the hive connected above. Five nesting areas of craters are scattered about with furs from beasts stacked in some or blankets your team had left out. But what’s the most interesting is on the wall is a large beast, looking akin to a saber tooth tiger with far too many eyes and too many tails to be one.

It was alive. Breathing. Encased in the black goop with four dark gray eggs almost swaddled against its abdomen with more of the hard-black material they used to build their hive. Like a makeshift incubator without killing the beast. That was...interesting. They had tried killing these beasts before, tearing open their abdomens or chests to put their eggs, but they must have learned that the bodies became too cold after a few hours.

Your eyes light up when you realize they’re going against their very nature to maul upon sight- learning to adapt to keep their species going. Even if it means going against what they were bred to do.

You spy the camera on the ground near the snoozing beast and carefully creep up. You move it around in your grasp to check for damages, only spotting a slight scratch on the outer edge of it, but thankfully not the lens. That was good, it meant replacement wasn’t necessary and you could just get it back up without needing to go back to your ship for repairs.

But your train of thought is paused when you hear the beast let out a low, slow growl.

Your heart pounds, eyes moving up slowly and carefully whilst keeping your body still to not alert it. You soon see its eyes are still closed.

It was a snore.

Okay, okay that was fine! Cool, don’t make that sound again, thanks!

You let out a breath you’d been holding, practically feeling your team do the same when you give a thumbs up to the camera in your grasp after you turn it on. You move towards the back of the room near the nests to mount it on the wall with a sticky adhesive, positioning it to be just right.

That’s when you hear a different noise right behind you when you take one step back to admire your handiwork. You freeze when you hear the quiet, near nonexistent tapping of claws behind you. Normally when the xenomorphs were walking, you could hear them. This was a deliberate drag of a tail, near silence. The only time they would be quiet is if...

Is if they were hunting.

Your heart is pounding heavily in your ears, your hands shaking by your sides and your breath quickening. You swallow heavily, remembering their body language and how they responded to quick movement. You don’t move a muscle, hearing the low hiss of warning behind you and the drag of its tail sound lighter as it’s lifted.

You tuck and roll to the right just as quick as the tail stabs just where you were standing, narrowly missing the camera on the wall. You yelp when you land yourself in one of the craters of their nests, scrambling back on your elbows and watching the xenomorph crawl after you with that same high hiss of warning.

You were an intruder in their nesting ground. That was the biggest offense.

Your lips quiver, vision blurring with fat tears when it crawls overtop you. Its large body frames your own with its long head lowering down towards your helmet. Its mouth of razor-sharp teeth opening and its miniature mouth poised to strike your helmet to attempt to get through the thick glass.

You knew coming into this that this was dangerous. All of this was dangerous. You can’t even blame the xenomorph. As far as it knew, you were an intruder who just planted something inside of its home. You don’t fear this death, but your heart still races and tears still slide down your cheeks with your instincts to move, to run, to flee.

And then suddenly. There’s a blur of black as it gets knocked to the side by a much bigger xenomorph.

It stands a good foot taller than the average six foot they normally are. Its body wider and girthier, circling its hive member with a louder and deeper sounding hiss that reverberates in the room. The smaller one hisses back in a weaker tone, looking over towards your direction and then whipping its head back at the larger xenomorph. Their body language is loud and obvious, an argument of if you were an intruder or not.

The larger one acts as if this was an argument between hive members and breaking it up.

The smaller one still bristled and looking at you like trying to prove you didn’t belong there.

It’s with a slam of the larger one’s thicker tail does the smaller finally scuttle off back down a hallway. You weren’t a threat, you weren’t a danger enough to keep arguing over.

Your heart is racing as you consider what the fuck just happened. Maybe this larger one wanted to end you instead? Maybe that was its job? Its job was protector, you knew that much from its size. You can’t even think clearly, watching as its head now turns towards you without a single snarl on its face. Except- curious. You...you know this one. With its tall crown flaring out much to look like a crown, like a miniature Queen.

The chest burster you had practically rescued; You’d only caught glimpses of it as an adult on the cameras. Lillian knew more about it than you, she nicknamed it The Knight.

No way it could remember you, right? Xenomorphs were based mostly on scent, this was true, but you’d used pheromones then and you definitely used them now. They didn’t pack bond like humans...did they? And even if they did, would it recognize you by your suit alone?

That would definitely be a new evolutionary trait- but then again, the beast on the wall wasn’t killed either but being used for its heat and kept alive.

Regardless, the xenomorph is stalking closer, but slower. Not prowling as if making sure to make noise as if it wanted to be sure you saw it. You swallow thickly, flinching when its long fingers outstretch towards your helmet. Its long, wide crowned head cocks. A small, almost trilling noise from its throat as it slowly moves itself into the nest you were currently still lying in. It doesn’t move to be on top of you, instead moving towards your side, gently nudging your side as if to urge you to get out.

O-oh?

You move as guided, helped out of the little crater with it again making that same sound as if it was pleased you did what it wanted. You’re still high off your fear, not quite thinking of anything else besides your shaky legs as you climb out. The alien behind you nudges your back with its head, a fond gesture you don’t even think about at first until it’s scooping you up. You don’t make a sound, fearing that yelping would anger it in some way but. But there was something about this...

You realize how it’s holding you. Cradled to its chest just like you had that little chest burster. It marches purposefully through the hive, back the way you came and keeping you tucked close with a firm grasp. Just like you had done to it to protect it from your team. It was protecting you from the hive just in case the drone had summoned others. Its body language purposeful.

As it walks, you contemplate what just happened. A drone got angry, went to attack you, and the Knight defended you. Okay, so it must have remembered you, but that trill.

Why did you know that sound? They only made that sound if--

Mate.

It thinks you’re its mate.

Or rather, trying to court you into being its mate.

You note it turns a new way down the hive structure. Not towards the exit, but instead to its own area. It has a similar crater in the ground with furs lovingly skinned off beasts piled in said nest. The room is wide, dome shaped almost with a beam of light streaming from up above and into the center of the nest.

Only higher ranked xenomorphs had their own spaces, especially to breed and nest, whilst the drones used the center room.

You’re set down oh so carefully into the wide nest that was built bigger than the others for reasons you can only assume is because how big this xenomorph was. It trills once again, but doesn’t follow you into the nest. Moving to lie curled around the edge of it with its head turned towards you and lying on its side to expose its belly and keep its tail far from you. The body language was familiar to you with courtships. ‘I am not a threat’ it’s practically yelling. You almost laugh at how silly this display seems to you as a human, but can’t help the nervousness in your throat.

“H-hi-” You manage to croak out finally, feeling silly for even deciding to speak. But, it merely lifts its head slightly, as if to show you it’s listening. It lets out a low noise in its throat, a sort of snort as if trying to mimic the thickness of your voice. Another sign it was trying to court you with mimicry, despite not having the right vocal cords to sound how you sounded.

It had to know you were another species, right? The pheromones on your suits would mimic a xenomorph, sure, but it carried you in a way that said it knew you were softer in flesh. It would feel that when touching you. It would feel you were much warmer- and maybe that was the key, you realize, it knew you were warmer and could hold its...its eggs without any trouble.

You cannot place why that does not turn you off or make you frightened in the slightest.

You can only imagine your team screaming back on the ship with the camera feed in your suit right now. You imagine Lillian is trying to jot down this data as quick as she can in her many, many journals.

You swallow thickly, remembering all the different noises to indicate certain things. You release a low hiss yourself, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth and letting air escape through a small part of your teeth to sound subtle, quiet. ‘Scared’ yours says ‘Not ready’.

Immediately, the xenomorph perks its head up, slowly rolling back onto its abdomen and hissing the same sound back with a cock of its head. Xenomorphs didn’t take each other without consent, they courted each other much like humans would. And it takes your consent with a question, as if asking if you are sure, and once you repeat the sound followed by a whimper, it sits right up.

There’s no anger in its movements as it comes closer to your helmet, gently tapping the roundness of its head against your helmet. ‘I will wait’ it says without saying a word. And once more you are offered to come out of the nest, gathered into its arms, set foot through the hive and set just at the mouth of the hive where you had come in.

It knew you weren’t of its kind. Or else it would have led you right back into the hive. It knew you didn’t belong there. How curious—how smart this creature was.

You can’t help but look back at it as it waits by the door, seeming to watch you leave until you leave its near sighted vision. It crawls back into the hive as you race back to your ship with a pounding heart and a sense of longing lingering over your body.

When you come inside, decontamination processes occur before you can put your suit away and enter the ship safely. Lillian is jumping on you first, to no surprise. You’re dizzy with her hands fretting over you, question after question until she cups your face and wipes away your dried tears. “Are you alright, my dear? I can’t imagine how frightening that was- but oh, how interesting! That is the same creature you had saved, correct?”

You kind of vaguely nod to her questions, letting her guide you into your quarters instead. She leaves you to rest when you clearly need your space to think, stroking your cheek fondly and telling you if you need anything, you know you can yell for any of them. But, by the end of the night when dinner is shared between all of you, Mavrick really outdoing himself in the kitchen as always, you manage to share the details.

From all of your combined studies, you all agree that this was courtship. There was no fear in denying a xenomorph, they all accepted rejections just like a human might without any bloodshed. But, Frankie does point something out that’s interesting. “If the xenomorph does lay its eggs in you, wouldn’t that make studying them easier? I mean, if we bring the eggs on board and they hatch, what if they pack bond due to their evolutionary traits?”

That makes everyone at the table pause to look at them. Watching as they pop a mouthful of chili in their mouth only to notice everyone’s looking at them. They fluster, cheeks warming and covering their mouth with the back of their hand when they speak, their southern accent thicker now. “W-what? I’m just sayin ’ it’d be easier than trynna collect a sample from an angry alien in the hive!”

“Frankie. I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve said all year.” You tease lightly, soft laughter from your chest when they shoot you daggers.

“Why, thank you. I’m glad that saying ‘go get railed by an alien’ is considered a smart option to you.” They huff, earning them a kiss atop their head from Mavrick to soothe their feigned upset attitude.

After dinner, you help clean up, settling at the table with everyone as you all game plan.

You weren’t against being mated to a xenomorph, they were your life already, and maybe having one bonded to you would help a lot in your gathered research. Not to mention, sexual repression was high in the ship- unless you were Frankie and Mavrick who most definitely went at it like rabbits when no one was looking. You? Lillian? Nada. Zip. Maybe some alien dick wasn’t so bad for you, although the idea of eggs being inside you should have been terrifying, you can’t help but feel...excited.

Wow. You really were sexually frustrated, huh?

Allow the Knight to court you. You could test your limitations within the hive due to it being higher ranking, it would argue against others attacking you. Allow the Knight to, well, mate with you and pray it lets you go back to your ship instead of insisting you stay in the hive. And double pray that the eggs come out and you don’t risk a chest burster becoming a Womb burster.

What a terrifying thought.

“Well. Ladies, gentlemen, Frankie. Let’s go make some alien babies, huh?” You announce at the end of it all, earning laughter all around and new excitement buzzing in the air of a new project.

Operation: “Romance an alien” was a go.

You don’t have to look very far. When you wake and suit up, you don’t use the pheromones this time. You hear that same deep trill right outside the ship door and the same loud drag of its tail to alert you to its location. You don’t jump back in fear this time or flinch when it gently bumps its head to your helmet, seeming satisfied of your safety. But you do note how it seems to inhale your scent, lowering its head down to the chest of your suit where you must radiate the most heat. Lowering towards your stomach before it moves back to its original position.

Memorizing you or scenting you, you couldn’t tell.

You follow it into the hive the distance away, occasionally seeing it stop to wait for you. Its head lightly tilted to seemingly hear for your footsteps before proceeding. Once you get to the mouth, it hisses high enough and long through the hallways and you hear the piercing noises come right back, a noise you would hear more often coming in.

‘Do not harm what I have brought back’. Says the Knight’s hiss.

‘We shall not harm nor alert.’ Says the reply back from the hive.

Normally reserved for the beasts they brought back from around the planet to indicate this creature was to stay alive. You wonder if there was other intelligent life on the planet that they were also trying to court. The planet was huge and vast, and your team’s main focus had been on the xenomorphs rather than branching out too far unless necessary. It could be possible there was other intelligent life that was hiding around and being attempted to be used as a breeder or mate.

Once more you are taken to the room where it resided. It doesn’t move you this time, but it does lie on the mouth of the nest once more. Lying on its side, tail moved far behind it, resting its head on one of its skeletal arms. One of its legs rests behind the other, exposing the hardly noticeable slit between its legs.

There were no outward appearance indicators of what genitalia a xenomorph had, only certain body language when courting. It wasn’t going into the nest or resting on all fours, this behavior it was currently exhibiting indicated external genitalia. Which meant your hunch was right about it wanting to lay its eggs in you.

You show your interest by moving into the nest and the xenomorph reacts with an almost purring growl in its throat of approval. It doesn’t move at all, waiting for you to make your courting gesture.

If you were a xenomorph, you’d show your interest by exposing yourself however you could. But you instead hiss again. ‘Want to, unsure still’ to allow it to realize you were interested but weren’t satisfied with the length of courting. Once more it trills, rolling onto its abdomen to no longer expose itself and offering its head lowered to you to instead bump your helmet affectionately again. Indicating its patience but determination.

This is the game you play for an entire month of letting the hive become so used to your presence that pheromones were no longer needed on your suit. This xenomorph waits for you outside your ship every day, waiting to court you in traditional fashions. Furs from skinned beasts are left outside your ship in a pile, different meats placed carefully and frozen nearby, all organs carefully chosen.

Yet, interesting new additions to the courtship occur. Foliage. Of flowers that you had in your own room. It must have found the same flowers you had, knowing that these clung to your scent so you must have liked them, and left them lovingly atop a pile of furs.

Xenomorphs were one of the most intelligent life forms out there, and how they learned to adapt to overcome certain obstacles- such as courting a different species- was always so shocking to your team.

It also started to understand what you were saying, it felt like. Or perhaps it was only understanding the tone at which you said things, you were unsure still. Lillian was trying to decipher that over the details she could see from the camera in your suit.

Mavrick had cracked a joke that if it was horny enough, maybe it was just desperate to find out if you were saying ‘yes’ yet. To which Frankie had given him a look that resulted in him pouting. For reasons you can only assume meant that they were telling him ‘no head later’.

The gifts you received over the course of its courtship were: Varied and healthy organs from beasts, flowers- which you had experimented with and got new flowers for your room and it brought you the same flowers you had each time, furs that were carefully skinned and cleaned, and curiously shiny objects. This could be from rocks to gems to things that looked like amber. It was a fascinating development, and well, you were rather smitten with the Knight yourself.

You’d gotten closer to the point not only could you enter the hive without pheromones, you could also take off your helmet once in its nest. The first time you had done it your heart had been racing out of your chest when it had gently trilled at you. It had rested your foreheads together, obviously taking note that you were warm and no longer encased in a bubble. Its long fingers had gently caressed your face, seeming to outline you as best as it could. It didn’t seem upset by what it found either.

Now, you’ve exited the ship. Fully suited up and already seeing the Knight waiting for you patiently. It makes that same trill it always does, crawling on all fours towards you before standing to its impressive height. It hunches over more towards your much smaller height, cocking its head when it gently presses its head to yours. You laugh softly when it snorts against your helmet, clearly frustrated you have it on.

“C’mon, big guy, it’s too cold!” You try to explain. It pauses to take in your voice, mimicking the same tone you say ‘cold’ in with a low grunt. You roll your eyes, hooking your fingers under your helmet as it makes a low hiss with the movement. The xenomorph trills, already ducking its head to help nudge it back and waiting impatiently. You can’t help but smile as its head tilts until you press your warm lips to the smooth front of its head. Immediately it trills, satisfied with getting what it wanted and turning back towards its hive to begin guiding you in.

You have a bag with you today full of little things like lubricant and a few toys. Foreplay wasn’t really in the books for xenomorphs and you’d spent the better part of this morning preparing for this already.

You’d been filled with anticipation all week for this, showing your interest throughout the week to the Knight who had clearly been eager at you wanting to move forward. You spent this morning edging yourself, fitting larger and larger toys in you with trembles of your thighs and frustration when you never let yourself cum. Xenomorphs were very kind about making sure each got their own. It was being shown in recent of your studies that a lot of them had sex just for the pleasure of it, too.

You can only hope the same hospitality is spared to you.

You know that it can smell your arousal. They had great senses of smell, and the one who saw you as a mate should have known your scent inside and out by now. You’d think xenomorphs weren’t the cuddling or kissing type, but turns out at least this one appreciated them. You think you’d never seen an alien more at ease than when you were showing it how to hold you, hitching your own leg over its waist and hearing it make such happy sounds in its throat.

Spooning an alien. Who’d have thought?

Now, as you’re escorted into the hive and into its nest, the courtship begins properly. Once again it lies on the edge of the crater of its nest, one leg behind the other, head resting on its arm and exposing its slit that you can already see leaking this translucent black fluid. Oh, it definitely smelled you. That only makes a shudder wrack through you at the very thought of its patience and desperation.

You very slowly remove your helmet and set it to the side, stepping into the nest as your fingers find the zipper of your suit. You quietly apologize to Lillian in your head when you shut off the camera along the way, no way did you want them to see this. You’d try and write a detailed report just for her once you got past the embarrassment.

The suit slides off your shoulders and you set it with your helmet. Patient as ever, the Knight only trills at you as it always does, but you notice its head lift ever so slightly to scent the air. You even get the pleasure of watching the head of its ovipositor slip out of its slit, seeing how it was already drooling with lubrication and desire. Your mouth waters, tempted to show it that there was more warmth to you than just your cunt, but you decide that was for another time.

Preferably when it had no eggs that could potentially be slid down your throat.

Under your suit you wore a tight black tanktop and gray sweatpants, super simple and warm. Your scent must be louder when you remove your suit in full because the sound that the Knight makes sounds like a growl. You gently press your warm hand to the smoothness of its head, soothing it softly. “Shhh. Wait, be patient.” Murmured from your lips, and once more you’re not sure if it understands or just responds to your tone, but it huffs through its nostrils and lies its head back.

You work out of your top, nipples already tightening with the chilled air. Your fingers run over your soft abdomen, something that always made you smile at your own squishiness. The Knight seemed to like it too, if it constantly trying to press its head against your softness was any indication. Your thumbs hitch in your waistband, sliding them down your rounded thighs with your underwear following with a sliver of slick sticking to it. It makes your face flush at realizing how wet you were.

You shouldn’t tease, you know you shouldn’t. But you can’t help but take your underwear and hold it in front of its face. Watching its head follow the scent and a low, hungering hiss sliding from its teeth as its hands snatch the fabric from you. It presses the article to its face to inhale deeply, releasing a low growling exhale as its ovipositor slides fully out of its slit.

Their cocks were always beautiful to you. It was especially thick at the base and coming up almost like a rounded knot that’s to keep them intact to their partner to not lose any eggs, coming all the way up to a tapered head. Ribbed patterns line beneath the head down to the base, where you know it can expand for the eggs to be lain with ease. The slit on the head is wide for the same reasons, leaking this translucent black fluid like it is now in preparation for you. The knot looked as thick as your wrist, doable but definitely going to be a strain, its length looking about seven or eight inches which made you tremble already.

How...how deep could it lay its eggs in a human? Internal organed xenomorphs had no cervix, no hinderance to this sort of thing. Your breath catches at the anticipation of the very thought it could fit deeper into you. You knew its lubrication also doubled as a muscle relaxer, helping ease their longer and thicker cocks deep within their mates. Would it be enough to ease you to take their eggs into your womb?

A low hiss reaches your ears and your eyes quickly dart to its face rather than its cock you were eyeing shamelessly. Seems your underwear isn’t doing it anymore. It slowly rises, waiting for you to reject, but you lie back in the soft furs instead, spreading open your legs with a small tremor when you part them.

Its much larger body pulls itself on top of yours, its smooth head starting at your knees and lifting until it can find your cunt. Its cold breath exhales across your flushed and wet flesh, making your hips come up without thinking and pressing to its mouth.

You can see drool coming down its chin, lifting its head with great resistance to nose at your soft abdomen like it loved so much. It buries its face there, scenting you before its head comes up with almost nuzzle-like gestures at your breasts. It seemed to like the softness you had and you can't help the soft laugh you emit. It felt so...normal to be nuzzled up on.

You’re suddenly gripped then with a yelp from your lips. Rolled onto your abdomen and your hips being pulled up by bony, long fingers. You’re glad you prepped with toys earlier, feeling the tapered head slide against your lower lips and slipping across your clit in a missed thrust.

A swear falls from your lips, reaching under you with shaky fingers until you wrap your fingers around its cock. The reaction is instant, a trill falling from its throat and attempting to fuck against your palm. “Wait, you big doofus-” You grumble mostly to yourself, but the Knight mimics your tone back how you say ‘wait’, its hips pausing as if confused. Questioning you.

It gives you time to draw your hips up into its grip, sliding its cock down against you until it catches on your hole. The thrust it gives immediately is sloppy and excited, entering you a few inches before it moves slower. You moan low in your throat, burying your face in your crossed arms under your head as you lean back down, your entire body shaking.

Its cock wasn’t fleshly like a human’s, almost like a harder silicone feeling made to morph to the shape of your body. It felt cold in comparison to your body, and you can only imagine how hot you feel to it.

There’s a slow press into you now, its claws digging into your hips and definitely making you bleed. You don’t mind the sharp pain. Though, you do smile when you feel it press at the back of your neck with its cold face. Sweet thing wanting your attention. You lift yourself up onto your hands instead, bowing your back as you reach up and behind you to cup under its jaw to draw its head over your shoulder. The hiss you hear by your face is low and wanting when you clench your inner walls around it, sighing out yourself. “Good. There you go, baby, nice and slow.”

You’re not sure if you’re speaking to fill the silence or because it seems fond of your voice anymore. Regardless, it works in your favor when you hear a soft trill, its hips moving just as slow in little humps to enter you fully. The knot rests outside you for now, pressing to the rim of your hole but not entering just yet.

Your head drops and your shoulders heave. You felt so full, something exhilarating about this whole thing. Your thoughts are soon put on pause when you feel its hands press around your abdomen with a tug. You follow the motion, sitting up on your knees and feeling it splay its own long legs out to follow your lower body to accommodate size difference. You’re held back against it, your back to its chest as its arms encircle you like it loved to do. Your hand remains on its jaw, stroking with your thumb in one of the crevices there.

A cooing noise falls from it and you mimic the sound, resting your cheek against its head as its hips start to hump up into you. You don’t feel any pain, its own lubrication working quick with your own. All you feel is wet and heat pooling in your lower abdomen with each desperate hump up into you. Soft sighs fall from your lips, way different from the growling and hissing you hear nearby your ear with its drool dripping onto the furs below you and onto your shoulder.

Your free hand reaches down, sliding down past its hand and down to your clit to rub it in circles in sync with its thrusts. It starts to get a bit harder now that you’re squeezing down on it, a moan falling from your lips and your head falling back to its shoulder. You’re aware you’re baring your throat, and it seems the Knight does as well when fingers come up to circle your neck. They don’t squeeze, holding you there with its other hand digging its nails into your hip as its hips slam against you harder.

Possessive.

“Fuck-” You hiss out, your body already as your first orgasm hits you. Your fingers circle your clit harder until it’s too much, drawing your hand away to reach behind yourself to grab at the xenomorph’s hip to encourage it to be rougher.

You don’t get the brutal breeding you expect and desire. Instead, it stops. Slamming deep into you and forcing its knot into you. No pain, but a deep pressure widening you out making a cry fall from your lips, arching your back only to get yanked right back with a low, rumbling growl from its chest. Possessive and quiet.

You weren’t going anywhere.

You hold still like forced to, its low snarls settling and its hand on your hip leaving. Its head bows to look down your body as its fingers find your clit to mimic what you had been doing to yourself. God, you always forgot how intelligent they were.

“Ss--shit-” You shudder, your head falling back against its shoulder as soft cries leave you, pushing past your harsh panting. It croons softly in its throat, turning its head to gently bonk your cheek with its head until you turn your head to press soft kisses across the hard carapace. Up until you’re gasping, your abdomen starting to get taut.

“Oh God, yes, yes, yes like that, just like that,” You’re whimpering out when it applies more pressure, your knees locking as another orgasm rips through you with ease. You scramble with the intensity , your free hand gripping its wrist when its fingers keep moving. A sharp whimper leaves you, but it seems to decipher it’s not from pain because the hand on your throat tightens briefly. Quietly telling you not to move as your cunt squeezes around its cock and knot, contracting with every flick of its fingers like it had seen you doing.

Oh, it liked that your body tightened around it. Filthy little thing was doing it on purpose.

“Ah, ah, ah-” Soft moaning whines fall from your lips again, shamefully even more turned on by the threat of its claws on your neck. You press your body back against its hard one, only giving more of an opening to your body that it takes with pleasure. Experimenting with circling your clit and the pressure you had put until you’re crying out and straining against the hand on your throat as you cum a third time in record succession.

Its hand only moves from your clit so it can grab your hip to hold you flush back against it. It can’t move much in you, not with its knot filling you and holding you together, but that doesn’t seem to stop it from humping against your frantically. You’re so out of it, drooling and your eyes fluttering that you hardly feel when the base of its ovipositor begins to fill out a little bigger than its knot.

You get your answer from earlier on if you would be relaxed enough, because you feel an odd stretch in your lower abdomen. Not painful, just a little odd. You know from experience that their eggs are just about the size of your fist and they could lay up to four. But this xenomorph was bigger and a higher rank. Which could mean that it would have only one or two eggs. You thank your luck on that one, unsure of how many your body could hold.

“Oh-” You gasp out when you feel it settle into you fully. It’s got a weight to it, felt more with how the xenomorph tries to huddle against your body closer. One of its hands sliding up from your hip to rest on your lower abdomen where it presses lightly over where the pressure rested. You whimper as you’re guided back onto all fours, bracing yourself on your arms and letting your chest rest on your crossed arms again.

The second egg you can feel when you close your eyes. Again, no pain, just a sliding, thicker pressure up your inner walls until that pressure is thicker in your lower abdomen. There are teeth hovering above the crook of your neck that makes you stiffen, but you’re so out of it you tilt your head and plead with it to bite you. You don’t get that pain, only its face pressing against your neck like it so desperately wanted to but knew it was a bad idea.

There are a few more violent grinds against your ass before you hear a snarl ripping out of it, going into a high hiss as it cums inside you. Its cum was thick for reasons such as this, made to be thick enough it could help the eggs stick in you and keep you numbed up. You can feel each harsh pulse of its cock as thick ribbons of cum spill into you, spilling out past its knot and onto the furs underneath you and on your inner thighs.

There’s a moment where you two rest like that. You, overstimulated and practically fuck drunk right now, comfortable with your hips still held high in the air. The Knight, with its arms encircling your waist and applying its weight on your back to relax with lazy rolls of its hips as its orgasm still trails out of it.

After a few minutes, it slides out of you nice and slow with only some thick cum drooling out of you. You had planned to maybe leave the hive, go and lie down on a table and have Lillian examine you, but you can’t find the strength in your shaking legs. And with the way it's now guiding you to lie spooned against its chest all tucked up, you’re going to assume you’re not allowed to leave yet anyway.

It presses against the top of your head with its face, hands resting protectively over your lower abdomen where you can feel your abdomen bulging out slightly. You whine softly in your throat, grumbling about the cold which gathers its attention to briefly let go of you and pulling three furs atop your body. Right before it goes back to holding you with a satisfied, low trill.

Guess that answered your question on if it was starting to understand you too, huh?

You’ll tell Lillian all about it, you think as your eyelids grow heavier and heavier.

Maybe your alien children can learn to understand English too, are your last thoughts with a smile on your face as you slip into a warmed sleep. Knowing you are safe with the extraterrestrial predator that knocked you up’s embrace.

#Aliens #Aliens vs Predators #Xenomorphs #Xenomorph x Reader #nsft #lemon #monster fucking #commissions #princess writing

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duhragonball · 3 years

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What version of the Saiyan Tuffle War do you prefer: the Tufflew subjugated the Saiyans or the Saiyans just straight up obliterated the Tuffles

Between the two options, I think I prefer the first one, simply because all the Tuffle characters we've seen have been diabolical villains, and it sort of undermines them as bad guys if the Tuffles were innocent victims in the war. But that's just a personal preference.

I'm not suggesting that the Saiyans were all sweetness and light either. But it seems a little naive to have an advanced civilization just welcome a bunch of Saiyans onto their planet with no ulterior motives.

I say this because most of what we know about the Tuffles is based on Baby's appearances in Dragon Ball GT. Supposedly, Baby was created by the last survivors of the Tuffles, and they "infused" him with the genes of their king, whatever that means. Baby only had two objectives: to take revenge on the Saiyans, and to to convert or destroy all non-Tuffle life forms. And that's... pretty fucked up when you stop and think about it. Baby was such an over-the-top villain in GT that it was easy to just go along with whatever crazy shenanigans he was up to. But he was programmed by the Tuffles, and presumably the Tuffle King was totally on board with this. If he had lived to see Baby Vegeta ruling over the restored Tuffle Planet with the entire population of Earth infected with his nasty mind control eggs, the King would probably be pleased.

And yeah, the Tuffles would want revenge against the Saiyans, but what did Earth ever do to them? Or any of the other planets Baby menaced? You can make the argument that Baby was a doomsday weapon that went beyond the intentions of his creators, but I think he did exactly what the Tuffles wanted him to do.

And that begs the question: If Baby's reign of terror was the last gasp of the dying Tuffle species, then what sort of weird stuff were they up to before? I'll put some thoughts on this under the cut.

First off, I think it's kind of weird how there's not a clear picture of what a Tuffle is exactly. I went looking on the DB Wiki for some pictures and found this Tuffle design by Akira Toriyama.

That design prevailed in DBZ Episode 20, and also in Plan to Eradicate the Saiyans, when King Kai explains how the Tuffles welcomed the Saiyans to settle on their planet when they crashed there in a wrecked spaceship. The implication from Plan is that the Saiyans didn't just show up one day. They were refugees who needed help, and the Tuffles invited them with open arms.

But it's weird how the Tuffles in DBZ #20 are depicted as being much smaller than the Saiyans, but in Plan they're basically to scale with each other. Maybe that's a continuity glitch, and no big deal, but then you have Dr. Lychee, who looks like this:

He starts out as a regular-looking guy, and then he becomes this blue creature who looks a lot like a prototype for Baby. The blue form is supposed to be nothing more than one of the phantoms created by Hatchiyack in the OAV, like the phantom incarnations of Frieza, Turles, Cooler, and Slug. But those phantoms looked the same as the originals. Why does Lychee look so different? Is this a form that Tuffles can naturally assume?

Which brings me to Baby and his "Tuffle Parasites". By the end of his run in GT, Baby basically identified as a Tuffle, rather than a creation of the Tuffles. When he started infecting Earthlings with his eggs, he called them Tuffles too.

Then you've got Kamin and Oren from Super Dragon Ball Heroes. Apparently they're considered "Neo Machine Mutants", which are Tuffles modified become like Baby, for lack of a better explanation. I'm not sure if this was established in the DBGT days or not, but I guess the current lore is that Baby, Oren, and Kamin were natural Tuffles who were augmented into the form we see here.

I guess what I'm driving at here is that the Tuffles seem to have a very broad definition of what a Tuffle is. For them, it seems to be more about a way of thinking and feeling than any particular appearance or body plan. A machine can be a Tuffle. An Earthling infested with a parasite can be a Tuffle. So maybe those miniature humanoids in DBZ #20 were just one more variety of Tuffle.

I get a real transhumanist vibe from the Tuffles, particularly from the notion of archiving their King's DNA into Baby, and the way Dr. Lychee continued to exist as a "Ghost Warrior" after his natural death. Oh, and the Tuffles of Universe 6 augmented Kamin and Oren. That wasn't for revenge, by the way, they just wanted to see if they could do it, and apparently Kamin and Oren were outraged enough by this that they turned on their creators. Throughout the Dragon Ball franchise, the Tuffles are known for their advanced scientific knowledge, and also for making all these freaky creatures.

And maybe they weren't all evil. I wouldn't go that far. But I get the feeling that their leaders welcomed the Saiyans to their world because they saw a potential resource that they could exploit. Maybe they just wanted the Saiyans to pacify the uninhabited parts of their planet, or maybe they though the Saiyans could help them against other enemies. But maybe they saw the Saiyans as potential test subjects for their experiments. Just a thought.

I don't think the Tuffles necessarily subjugated the Saiyans, but it might have been more of a case of rising tensions. They lived in separate parts of the planet, with the Tuffles in the cities and the Saiyans in the wilderness, but the Saiyans grew more numerous, and the Tuffles probably saw that as a threat, and the Saiyans probably started to wonder why they needed the Tuffles at all. A lot of things might have instigated the war, but it wouldn't surprise me if the flashpoint involved Tuffles experimenting on Saiyan prisoners. If something like that came to light, then it would become a matter of survival. The Saiyans would have to wipe out the Tuffles to avoid being "Tuffleized" or worse. And the Tuffles would have to crush the Saiyans in battle to maintain control of the planet. There could be no return to the status quo; it would have to be total war until one side was completely defeated.

Once the war began, it must have taken a long time for the Saiyans to win. King Kai said that the lunar cycle on Planet Plant was eight years, and that each full moon allowed the Saiyans to gain ground in the war. So this implies that it took several full moons to end the war, so the conflict might have lasted decades, or maybe even a century. There might have been a few armistices or truces during that time, as each side would want to try to regroup and get as much momentum as possible before the next full moon. At least, that's how I'm picturing it.

One causus belli that sticks out in my mind is that the Tuffles were apparently a spacefaring people, but the Saiyans couldn't do much in space until they made contact with the Arcosians, and then King Cold's organization. So maybe the Tuffles were purposely keeping the Saiyans confined to Planet Plant, either to prevent them from escaping, or to isolate them from other civilizations. The Saiyans would take this poorly, I'm sure. So that might have a lot to do with it.

To be sure, the Saiyans of this era were real rat bastards, no doubt. I'm sure a lot of Tuffles of the time would make the argument that they were trying to contain the Saiyans as a matter of self-preservation, or even for the good of the greater universe. But I also suspect that the Tuffles aren't just friendly-looking anime folks. Creatures like Baby, Hatchiyack, Kamin, and Oren give us a peek into their more inhuman qualities, qualities that the Saiyans probably knew firsthand. It's possible that King Vegeta thought he was the one doing the universe a favor when he wiped the Tuffles out.

Something else to consider, in Episode of Bardock, we meet the Plantians, who were apparently the original inhabitants of Planet Plant. At some point, they were gone, and the Tuffles were living there instead, and then the Saiyans showed up and wiped out the Tuffles. So what happened to the Plantians? Did they just migrate to another world, leaving Plant empty for the Tuffles to move in? Or did the Tuffles do something to them? Food for thought.

#dragon ball #tuffles #i really ought to write some sort of fanfic about the saiyan-tuffle war #if only to crystallize my thought about it #i thought about using a tuffle villain in luffa but it seemed a little too obvious #like there was a whole war between saiyans and tuffles and that's where that conflict belongs #luffa's not part of that era so it shouldn't be part of her story #it'd make a good nanowrimo project if i ever finish the luffa thing #which... probably won't be for a while

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banashee · 4 years

Link

Day 1: Snow

When Clint wakes up before sunrise one day in december, he knows without looking or checking his phone that it’s been snowing at night. It’s just a feeling, not based on any facts yet, but he knows this with the certainty of a child who has been waiting for it ever since the last spring snow has melted.

He slides out from under the many blankets and from Natasha’s grip around his waist, careful not to wake up Lucky who is sleeping by their feet. Clint can’t hear it, but he knows that his dog snores loud enough that it is a miracle their furniture hasn’t turned to sawdust yet.

“Just like your human.” Natasha tells Lucky every time while gently scratching the good spot behind his ears. Clint laughs then, claiming that accusation to be entirely untrue. Every single time, without a fail. Natasha will laugh in response and god, Clint loves that sound. As it is tradition by now, she will reply that his opinion doesn’t count since he wouldn’t be able to tell now, would he?

It only makes him laugh harder and love her more.

The cold air of the room hits Clint. He’s still sleep-warm, but the bedroom is freezing cold. They never sleep with the window open - both of them are way too paranoid for that - but the building is old, and there are always cracks and crevices where the icy chill of winter can creep in.

Sooner than later, Clint knows he will curse up a blue storm when he has to fix the damn radiator for the billionth time, like every winter. But right now, the lingering warmth of his partners embrace and the sleeping dog keep him warm. When he peeks out of the blinds and into the early morning of New York, the street lights and neon signs reflect themselves in glittery snow on the ground. Even the streets are still covered, and the parked cars by the side of the road are half-buried under a fluffy white blanket.

Childlike excitement and a giddiness spark through him, and Clint smiles.

Silently, he creeps down the hallway. Chances are, Natasha already woke when he left because she always notices, but maybe she already fell back asleep. Only a few years ago, that would have been unthinkable. At that time, neither of them would have been able to find any rest unless they went to check on the other, just to make sure they’re okay.

Just to make sure there is no attack.

Just to make sure the other wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown.

Now, these days are less and less, and both of them are doing mostly alright. Enough to be able to go back to sleep when they wake up because the other slides out of the bed for any reason that isn’t urgent.

Clint is clad in only underwear and one of his ancient T-shirts. This one is a cheesy, cheap thing from some tourist attraction on the other side of the planet, but it’s well-loved and worn soft, and he refuses to part with it until it either falls apart, or, much more likely, it finds its way to Natasha’s side of the closet. Clint knows, if one item of his clothing is suddenly missing under mysterious circumstances, chances are he’ll find Natasha wearing it or squirreling it away to sleep in later.

Right now, the cold from the windows is creeping into him, and Clint takes a thick, woolen blanket from the back of the couch while walking past, wrapping it around his shoulders. He starts a pot of coffee in the kitchen, room still dark around him. It doesn’t make a difference - his eyes are good enough to see what he is doing.

While the coffee is running through, Clint makes his way over to the floor length window next to the balcony door.

He sits down on the floor, blanket wrapped around himself and with his forehead pressed up against the cool window. The glass is fogging up due to his warm breath and he wipes it with a corner of the blanket. Then he settles down to watch the snow fall in the dark.

It’s a beautiful sight, and he loses time for a bit.

Clint only moves to look away from the window when Natasha sits down next to him, with Lucky trotting after her, holding two large mugs of coffee and handing one over to him with a sleepy smile. He turns to kiss her good morning, and then the two of them settle down with Lucky by their feet, watching the streets of Brooklyn in silence. They simply breathe in each other's company, without a single word, but utterly happy.

The snow outside keeps falling.

By the time they have finished their first coffee of the day, the street lights have turned off, and the snow is glittering in the low light of the slowly rising sun. Natasha puts her empty mug down on the floor, then she wraps herself around Clint, snuggled up close to him and smiles happily.

She knows just how much he loves the snow. Even though she’s had more than her fair share of icy weather while growing up in Russia and many years following, she can’t help but let him infect her with excitement.

It amazes her sometimes, that people like them can find happiness in such small things, what with everything they’ve lived through.

The two of them have been home for each other for a long time now. It’s taken them longer than most, but now they are finally free to live and not just survive. Even after all these years, it feels a little bit surreal sometimes but they wouldn’t want it any other way.

By the time the sun is up, they get up from the floor to start making breakfast.

Lucky is crunching loudly on a bowl of kibble while Liho is inhaling wet cat food and their humans work together in the kitchen. Natasha and Clint move around each other in a familiar and well-practised way, and neither of them talks much.

Some days, one or both of them are particularly chatty in the mornings, but that’s rare. Especially on a day like this one, when they started it in such a romantic way.

Clint disappears into the bedroom to get his hearing aids at some point and soon after, the room smells of pancakes, eggs with bacon and another pot of coffee.

They stay in the kitchen, since the room has warmed up from their cooking and the rest of the apartment is still cold - Clint sighs into his half empty coffee mug.

“I’ll definitely have to take a look at the damn heat again.”

Natasha nods, running one hand through her messy red hair. She turns to face Clint so he can read her lips as she answers,

“Let’s do that soon. We’ll freeze our asses off when we come home from the-”

Natasha finger-spells W-A-L-K so that Lucky doesn’t run crazy at the word “walk” like he tends to do,

“- and the apartment is still cold.”

“Yup.” Clint nods, and shoots a dirty look in the direction of the offending appliance.

“Let me finish my coffee and I’ll get to it.”

Half an hour and many profanities later, the heat is running again and the apartment warms up rapidly. As soon as Clint is done with the work, Liho curls up on top of the radiator.

“You’re welcome.” he tells the cat, and strokes the shiny, black fur in between her ears. He can’t pick up the purr, but Clint can certainly feel it. Like a little motor, Liho is vibrating under his touch, leaning into it for a moment. Then, a pair of green eyes slowly blinks at him before Liho is drifting off to sleep in the blissful heat.

Natasha is already dressed in one of his hoodies when Clint enters the bedroom to put on some pants. Both of them layer up before they are ready to leave - they plan to spend a good amount of time outside, not just to get some exercise for Lucky and themselves, but also to enjoy the snow day. There are no other plans and they don’t have to be anywhere. The day is all theirs.

“Lucky! Come on boy, let’s go out for a walk!” Clint calls out and a second Later, the yellow mutt comes scrambling down the hallway, barking in excitement and running circles around his human. He waits for the dog to calm down so he can put a leash on him, as well as snow boots.

It’s freezing cold outside, and Clint wouldn’t want to be out there with bare feet - so why would he do that to his beloved companion? Besides, he doesn’t know if someone put road salt on their way yet.

As soon as they step out the front door, a biting cold wind hits them. The air smells fresh and clean, which is rare enough here in the big city, but they’ll take the magic for as long as it lasts.

The city is already covered in blinking fairy lights and all sorts of festive decor. Somebody is baking, and the heavenly scent of it wafts through an open window and down the street.

“Hmm, so good.”

“We could bake later. It’s about time.” Clint sounds excited about that, not only for the cheesy pre-Christmas-time-reasons. He likes doing it, and it’s been a while since he had the time to do so. Avengers business never sleeps for long. But right now, they have a small stretch of free time.

“You mean you bake and I steal your raw dough? Because I’m totally game for that” Natasha smirks - she is capable of many things, but baking isn’t one of them. She does, however, have a huge sweet tooth. Thankfully, her partner is able to produce what must be magic in the kitchen.

“Eh, same thing.” He wraps one arm around her shoulders, and they share a bit of body heat on their way to the park.

The sky is blue and bright, and there is another round of fresh snow coming down. When they reach their destination, Lucky can barely contain his excitement - he keeps running wild and digging up the thick white snow, again and again as if he is on the search for a hidden surprise.

Every now and then, he’ll return to Clint and Natasha for cuddles, but then he’ll get distracted by a snowflake and it all starts over, until they decide it’s time to go home.

A hot shower feels great, especially now that the heat is working again.

Cold and wet clothes are immediately tossed into the dryer, and they take their time. When they step out of the room, they make their way back to the kitchen. Natasha starts making hot chocolate, one of the few recipes she trusts.

There is an unhealthy amount of melted chocolate and heavy cream in it, as well as their special mix of spices that they tossed together just for this occasion. By the time their drinks are ready, Clint finishes kneading a batch of dough and waits for Natasha to pull away a piece to snack on before he puts the ball of dough into the fridge to firm up - this is going to take a while.

They are happy to curl up by the window again, wrapped up in blankets and with their animals close. Liho is curled up near Natasha, oblivious to the world around them and fast asleep while Lucky is snoring again, with his head pillowed on Clint’s lap.

Clint keeps running a hand through the thick, golden fur and leans his cheek against Natashas head, who has chosen his shoulder as her pillow. A lingering scent of orange flowers wafts up whenever she moves, coming from the shampoo that she uses for as long as Clint can remember knowing her. It’s so her, so very much familiar.

He knows it so well, he once managed to bring her a new bottle from the store just by smelling every single one on the shelf. He couldn’t remember the name of it to save his life, but that scent - he’d recognize it anywhere.

That day in winter, they sit together in silence and watch the snow through the window, which is still falling and creates a new layer of glittery white fluff on the ground. While the world outside is just as cold as it is beautiful, they are happy to be warm and happy at home.

Life is good sometimes.

END

*+~

Side note: while writing this, I’ve had this song on loop more than any other:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GScdfCKB7xA

Jeremy Renner - “Stereo Love”

It’s just beautiful

*+~

This is a writing challenge set up by AJ Woolfenden on Instagram, starting on December 14th. One word per day for a week. Works shared have to use #writingweek

https://www.instagram.com/p/CILEG_agRzF/?igshid=1p72flhf7lhzz

Day 1: Snow Day 2: Festive Lights Day 3: Santa’s hat Day 4: Gifts Day 5: Silent Night Day 6: Red Noses Day 7: Miracles

All cover photos 1-6 used from Pixabay , 7th from unsplash. Free to use photos

#banashee writes #marvel fanfiction #clintasha #fluff #x-mas writing week

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carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory · 4 years

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MESOZOIC MONTHLY: PROTOSTEGA

June 20th was the first day of summer! The weather here in Pittsburgh is already beautiful. It’s enough to make one dream of a socially distant beach! Summer, of course, is sea turtle nesting season: during the next several weeks, female sea turtles all across our planet’s Northern Hemisphere will return to the beach where they hatched, drag themselves onto land, and lay their eggs in the sand. It would have been an incredible sight to see Protostega gigas, one of the largest sea turtles of all time, hauling itself onto the beach to lay its eggs! For June’s Mesozoic Monthly, we’re going to “dive in” to the paleontology of this giant reptile.

Carnegie Museum of Natural History’s spectacular skeleton of Protostega gigas is a composite made from the fossilized bones of two different individuals. Come see it on display in our Dinosaurs in Their Time exhibition when the museum reopens at the end of this month. But don’t forget to purchase your timed ticket in advance!

All turtles, including sea turtles like Protostega and tortoises like the Galápagos giant tortoise, belong to the group Testudines. This group originated during the Triassic Period, the first of the three time periods of the Mesozoic Era (aka the Age of Dinosaurs). Turtles split from other reptiles to form their own group before crocodiles and dinosaurs evolved! This means that turtles are not descended from dinosaurs, no matter how primordial some tortoises may look. Turtles differ from other reptiles in many ways, the most noticeable being their iconic shells.

A turtle shell is formed of two main parts: the carapace, or top shell, and the plastron, or bottom shell. The shell is made of bone fused directly to the spine and ribcage, so a turtle cannot crawl out of its shell without leaving its skeleton behind! Another major difference between turtles and other modern reptiles involves skull anatomy. Turtles have anapsid skulls: the bony case that protects their brain lacks any external openings behind their eyes (known as temporal openings). All other extant reptiles plus birds are diapsids, meaning their skulls have two holes behind their eyes. Mammals differ from both conditions because we have only one temporal opening, making us synapsids. Traditionally, the anapsid condition of turtle skulls has been taken to indicate that they are the most primitive of living reptiles. More recently, however, many paleontologists and biologists have uncovered evidence that turtles are in fact diapsids whose evolutionary course led, for some reason, to a secondary closure of their temporal openings. According to these scientists, the closest relatives of turtles among today’s diapsids are either lepidosaurs (lizards, snakes, and kin) or archosaurs (crocodilians and birds).

A bird’s (or pterosaur’s!) eye view of Protostega gigas (left) swimming past two long-necked elasmosaurid plesiosaurs in shallow waters of North America’s Western Interior Seaway roughly 85 million years ago. (This scene is set in what’s now Kansas!) Art by Julio Lacerda; see more of his beautiful work here.

Reptiles, mammals, and birds all belong to a group called Amniota, and the key defining feature of amniotes is a protective layer around their eggs that allows this vulnerable life stage to survive on land. Having eggs that did not have to be laid in water meant that animals could move to less-wet habitats, a significant step in evolution! Unfortunately for sea turtles, which spend most of their lives at sea, this means they must return to land to lay their eggs. An amniotic egg would “drown” in water because the embryo still needs access to air. As a sea turtle, Protostega would have faced these same reproductive challenges, plus one more: it was huge!The largest modern turtle, the leatherback sea turtle, can grow over seven feet (2.1 meters) long; Protostega dwarfs it at 9.8 feet (3 meters)! If you’ve ever seen video of a sea turtle crawling onto the beach to nest, you know that it’s an awkward process. Imagine seeing a turtle that weighs at least a ton try to do the same! Although surely clumsy on land, Protostega was a graceful swimmer, using its four rigid flippers like wings to “fly” through the water.

Protostega lived in the Western Interior Seaway, an inland sea that stretched across much of North America during the Cretaceous Period (the third and final period of the Mesozoic Era). The seaway was warm, shallow, and teeming with all kinds of aquatic life: the perfect habitat for an omnivorous sea turtle. Because sea turtles are ectothermic (sometimes erroneously called “cold-blooded”), they cannot regulate their own body temperature. Instead, Protostega relied on warm water temperatures and sunlight hitting its back to keep warm. Although we don’t have a fossil record of the coloration of Protostega, we know that today’s large sea turtles are counter-shaded, with heat-absorbing, dark-colored backs and pale undersides. In an ocean environment where both predator and prey shift positions in the water column, this combination aids concealment. From below, a light-colored underside blends with light-saturated water. From above, a dark back blends with dark water. Camouflage in the water was an important feature when living alongside so many sizable predators. Protostega fossils have been found with bite marks from the large shark Cretoxyrhina mantelli, and it almost certainly was also on the menu for the mighty mosasaurs as well. Fortunately for us, we humans can enjoy the ocean knowing that few creatures are interested in eating us!

Lindsay Kastroll is a volunteer and paleontology student working in the Section of Vertebrate Paleontology at Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Museum staff, volunteers, and interns are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

#Carnegie Museum of Natural History #Mesozoic #Protostega #Paleontology #Natural History #Pittsburgh #Protostega gigas #Sea turtle

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steve0discusses · 4 years

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Yugioh S4 Ep 24: Someone Actually Called the Cops.

So recently I was like, “I should do something different than my usual” and I decided to open up a little thread for critiquing ppl’s short stories, and I kid you not, the very first story I got was someone’s Seto Kaiba erotica. Which, even in erotica form, did not have very much romance in it. So, now that Yugioh will apparently haunt my every waking move forever until I die, lets get back to S4. Lets desperately get back to canon. I miss canon.

Last we left off, Kaiba lost KaibaCorp...again. Really feels like he loses this company once every couple of years (weeks if we count season 1-3). Except, this time, Dartz didn’t read the fine print in the legal files that says the company must be run by a member of the Kaiba family. While that was a huge plot point with Pegasus, turns out that Seto and Mokuba’s memories have been blended so thoroughly, like a very fine Shadow Realm smoothie, that they just...forgot.

And like I’m positive that Roland remembers, but Roland’s not gonna say something and accidentally reveal he’s the 4th Kaiba brother and have to get abducted all the time and actually work for a living. Anyways, they forgot why Pegasus abducted them in the first place in Season 1, and honestly, so did the writers of this season 4 years later. Not like it mattered, because if Seto and Mokuba did take Dartz to court, the world would end before their case would even start.

Which is how, after one talk with Roland, Seto and Mokuba just sort of laid prone on the metaphorical ground and let it wash over them that yes, KaibaCorp is gone.

I really like this extra-long helicopter, PS.

Both members of Kaiba’s Sunglasses Army decided to align themselves with Kaiba, although honestly, I don’t think anyone else in this company has realized that they’ve been bought. It happened...1 hour ago. Like what do you even do if your company randomly gets bought in the middle of a workday? Like no lead up, no indication, just BAM you’ve been bought?

And if Duke works for Pegasus who got bought out by Dartz and then Dartz bought Kaiba Corp-------What does that make Duke? Is he gonna have to start wearing sunglasses inside?

Anyway, Roland knows better than to tell Seto Kaiba he doesn’t work for him anymore while still in the same helicopter as Seto Kaiba, who already crashed one plane today and will crash yet another plane before this episode is through.

(read more under the cut)

Seto decides to align with Yugi since he needs to confront Dartz eventually. Which is when we find out that Seto always planned to align with Yugi and was just giving him a really hard time.

Because over the last several episodes, Seto has had an entire team at this random museum in Florida in order to take some pictures (that really should have already been on the internet but wtv, it was 2003 so maybe it wasn’t?)

It’s like most of the way through s4 and the biker ninjas still send me. How did he make SO MANY biker ninjas? At what point was Dartz like...and now...all my mooks...will be ninja bikers. Or orcs. Mostly Ninja bikers.

Did Alister or the others ever tell him “hey, Master Dartz, I get that your 10000 years old but like...do you not understand what a biker is?” and was Dartz like

“clearly bikers are the most evil thing in the world, obviously.” completely unaware that most bikers are just 45 year old accountants.

In these scenes we also get a gander at their laptops and, if you ever want to see high level life crippling OCD anxiety in picture form, it’s illustrated very clearly right here:

Not only did they draw this keyboard in 1 pt perspective, they used like a ruler to draw all those letters so they were the same size. Some artist put so much time getting this nice and crisp and smooth...and then this happened.

And I’m pretty sure they died after that. I’m pretty sure this scene killed an artist.

It’s at this point that Yami kinda puts two and two together and was like “WE BOUGHT PLANE TICKET’S, YOU ASSHOLES.”

(It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen Mokuba smile like this, and it’s because he’s been hiding the fact for So Many Episodes that he and his brother prepped like hours ago to get this huge dunk on the rest of the party. He just wants to dunk on them so bad. Look at him. His company was bought today. BUT he gets to spend time with his bro dunking.)

Serious question, will Delta refund your flight if the Great Leviathan appears in the sky and tries to eat your soul to reboot the world from the ground up?

Of course not. They will never refund your flight. Trick question.

We switch back over to Rebecca and Duke, who have been absent from this show for so long, I actually forgot what Duke’s name was and had to think for like...5 entire minutes until I remembered that his nickname sounds like a poop and I was like “oh man, what name of poop would it be???” and then I recalled “Dookie. Yes. His name is literally Dookie. Wow that took way too long!”

Then we start a story arc I’d to call “My Kingdom For a Sharpen Filter” where, much like King Lear, the Yugi crew splays themselves on a battle field just strewn with different ways to sharpen an image, but can’t for the life of them use any other one, but the one deep in the heart of what is now DartzCorp.

And so yes, we are going to fly to San Fransisco, hop into ye Olde KaibaCorp, and log into proto-Noah in order to read a language that Arthur Hawkins can already read.

This is nonsense, but they put it there because it’s something to do. And honestly, it’s not a card game, so I’m down for this change-up. Lets go visit a version of Noah’s brain. At least they won’t drop an orichalcos for the 12th episode in a row.

On the way, Seto decides to try and egg on Yugi.

This backfires as you expect it will because Yami doesn’t freakin care. Like he’s not Yugi, he doesn’t care who the King of Games is, he harnesses freakin Dark Magic. The Wizard never cares if he’s King Arthur or not, and in fact, he probably prefers it....

..................Except in that spinoff where they had Yugi as a reincarnation of King Henry VII.

...................................................never mind.

And then Seto Kaiba says this actual line and I just...

WH.

WHHH

WHAT?

This entire show is just watching Yugi desperately cling to his scary ass hobbies. The tagline of Yugioh is “1001 reasons to go back to school and get a real job.”

What does Kaiba think Yugi does when he’s not around? Does he actually think Yugi attends school or sleeps at night or works an actual job? Like...he thinks Yugi has...NO HOBBIES.

Very interesting insight into what Seto considers a hobby and not hobby.

Especially since this Yami, who spends most of his spare time farting around his scary ass brain castle and getting lost. Occasionally he is forced on a date with Tea and wipes minds. That’s it. That’s all the things Yami does outside of hobbies.

Anyway, what is Dartz doing during all of this?

After this, Dartz pulls back the literal curtains on this room to reveal these candles that each hold the soul of someone he’s murdered.

There are not NEARLY enough candles for this segment.

A very brave man to have candles littered on the floor when his hair is down to his ass and all of his mooks have floorduster coats.

I really want to know what the local arts and crafts store thought when Dartz strode in there and bought every single tiny styrafoam skull during the Halloween sale and was like “can I put souls in these? You sell the kind I can put souls in, right?” and then immediately pulled out like a dozen 50% off coupons like a complete asshole.

Anyway, using this candle hocus pocus, Dartz uses the Orichalcos powers to take advantage of something Yugi did in the first episode. We distantly recall there was a giant eyeball in the sky--turns out if you bust up the eyeball with, lets say, a card that has a dragon on it, the eyeball will explode into many tiny Orichalcos pieces that will fall all over planet Earth.

So apparently Yugi didn’t save anyone at all when he busted that eyeball, because he instead set in motion Dartz’ evil plan to eventually use these many tiny Orichalcos pieces like the one seen here, to kill the hell out of people.

Good job, Yugi. Too bad you missed the Actual Bakura.

In fact, actual Bakura is probably the only one who survived this incident because I guarantee that Ryou Bakura is too busy eating all the contents of his fridge out of stress. He’s probably opened his window at this point, seen the crazy lights in the sky and in the street and was like “Blooooooody nope nopenopenopenopenope” and just locked the windows and doors, turned up Hercule Poirot to max volume, and stuffed his face with cookies.

(Or biscuits, I guess.)

WELL.

I don’t know how to tally that.

Yugioh not only broke the tally I was using to measure the distance they spent commuting this season, it also broke the tally on the amount of people who have died on this children’s show.

That’s a really big number.

We’ve had real duel monsters for a couple weeks but youknow...this time they’re extra, extra, extra real. More so than the last times. Also they’re all Orichalcos versions of their cards so their extra edge now. They’re the hot topic versions of what were already pretty hot-topic ass cards.

MMM. We come full circle, back at a dock, a warehouse, and some huge ass boat.

Right where we belong. Where all friends meet, where we can all finally be one.

Yugioh found one of the only cities that has a very famous and tourist heavy pier/warehouse district in it just so the Yugi gang could finally feel comfortable in their natural habitat. HOWEVER, there’s just one tiny problem in this scene, and it’s that it’s not overlaid with the actual soundscape of a SF pier, which is that of 100000 screaming seals

youtube

I don’t have a seal problem, you have a seal problem.

Anyway, the only healthy adults here attempt to follow the children into danger but someone on the animation team was like “we just lost the keyboard drawing guy to that capslock! We cannot lose any more interns to a crowd scene with 9 people in it and 2 dead bodies!” and they uh...

And we immediately eject Roland and whoever that weird sunglasses guy is out of the script. Mokuba gave them a longing glance as they helicoptered away. Maybe because he missed his Dad stand-ins that he went through such efforts to call in the first place. Or more likely, because Mokuba would have preferred to be on that helicopter and far away from whatever the hell is going to go down on this dock.

Honestly the rest of Joey’s storyline this episode is him going rogue because of Mai rage, and it both comes out of nowhere and also seems very on point for him.

Meanwhile, Rebecca’s unbridled rage towards Yami Muto is still low key hilarious to me.

Witness the only character here who thinks Yami should suffer actual consequences and witness Yami just appear to not give a single damn about it.

Nearly spat out my own drink watching this.

The...

...police...

...exist in this universe?

Anyway, while Tristan and Tea try to locate a payphone to dial 911, Seto and Yugi decide to invade Seto’s own company by going through an elevator that you have to reach through the sewers.

Straight up I don’t think SF even has sewers. At least, not in the sense that you can walk in em like New York or Paris or other cities that have sewers. Our sewer systems are very small cuz we got something called “liquefaction” which means our ground is so soft (and artificial--a lot of the land is fake), that when there is an earthquake, certain parts of the city will...liquefy. It’s Terrifying. We kind of...avoid going and building underground except in certain stable places. (like even BART gives me the heebies.)

I just have a very strong distrust of basements, caves and other underground places in general and it’s not because of spiders, or ghosts or whatever, I’m just afraid of faultlines. It’s like having an active volcano, but you just don’t see it, and we haven’t had a Big One since 1989 so...any day now (I mean, 2020 has been such redic content, that I think we’re finally ready)

Again, Japan has way more intense Earthquakes than we do, and yet they have a billion underground subways and very, very tall buildings, so like, this is mostly a big cultural difference between the two of us. And the bedrock. They probably have better bedrock than we do (honestly, I just have no idea).

MASTER HACKER SKILLS.

Almost as good as that time he hacked into Pegasus’ company by dropping a satellite on it. I’m starting to think Seto actually doesn’t know how to use a computer.

Anyway, Seto is faced with...real cards, real monsters, indisputable evidence, and he decides, it’s time. It’s time to finally face facts.

So, while these two are just flinging cards around willy nilly, Tea and Tristan are ...actually talking to police.

4 seasons. They’re actually doing it.

Although, TBH, they probably should have gone to the Japanese Embassy first? Just throwing that out there.

Ah Yugioh, the only kids show around that tells you point blank not to trust cops. Timeless.

U.S

In some weird underground earthquake hazard, Rebecca proves that she is smarter than Seto Kaiba. She’s maybe even the smartest person on this show. Nice that we gave her nothing to do this season but pine over Yugi who is already taken by Tea who he is also not even dating.

Not that I love Rebecca or anything, I actually have a hard time with her voice, but like...they really dropped the ball on Rebecca.

If she does end up joining Kaiba corp as their back up Felicity Smoak while Seto just runs around aimlessly punching stuff that really is just offbrand Arrow but with cards. And with slightly less resurrections.

So, lets get a gander at that computer.

We didn’t get to see Kaiba pull out 12 other discs to complete the installation process for these all these Hard Discs. Maybe the lure of throwing a very aerodynamic CD across the room like a paper card was so strong that his dev team forced him to switch to these defunct squares?

PS, I am a true millennial, OK? But, I don’t remember Hard Discs.

Hard Discs were SO long go. I stopped using these damn things in Elementary school. The last Hard Disc I ever touched was in college, when I had to put my art portfolio on a disc to submit it to my degree. I don't know even why. Everyone had a mac, so I knew no one’s computer in the department even...HAD a disc drive so it was like...whomst among you has this damn computer from 1997? Whomst among you is still using Windows 95? WHY would I put IMAGES on a floppy when I can just email them to you?

Anyway, I had to get a USB hard disc reader, and to get that reader, I had to call my Dad who had legacy software because he’s a computer engineer, and he had to mail it to me.

In that same portfolio review, PS, I also had to submit my portfolio as slides.

I didn’t even know where to produce slides so I had to ask all these old people and go to the last photo processing store on earth to get digital pictures turned into negatives and then turned into freakin slides.

SLIDES.

I honestly think they just did that to weed people out of the art degree.

Anyway, I tell you this story just to say that there is no way in hell that Kaiba was using a hard disc during the height of the CD era. We were CD or go home since 2000. We had pretty decent jump drives at this point. We had wifi. It was realllly bad wifi, but we had it. Your phone could connect to the internet. It would charge you 50 bucks, but it COULD connect.

Who on the Yugioh team DID this?

Anyway lets see these pictures that for which, we spent thousands of dollars in unused plane tickets, destroyed a Caltrain, killed 2 ancient Atlanteans (and their dog), killed 3 random mid-villains, walked across the entire Peninsula, crashed an international plane, and left both the plane and the train to rot gas fuel into the nearest lake which is right next to a ghost graveyard?

Yeaaaaaaaaaah!

Like he reads it and is all “They’re gonna resurrect Atlantis” and it’s like WE KNOW. Dartz and his hooligans have talked about starting their Utopia to reboot the world since Gurimo. Since Day 1.

Man.

Anyways, there was one plus to the pictures, and it was that Seto Kaiba recognized the Oricalchos logo.

just...

The Oricalchos logo is...

...This logo, Seto?

You...didn’t recognize...seriously? Not until just now? You have been inside of this logo, rearing to lose your soul to Alister 2 times, and he only recognized it...just now.

I mean Seto takes a while y’all. He’s a genius, but his memory is so, so bad, that he will Eventually get smart, but you have to wait until like episode 24. But he’ll get there. Just gotta be patient.

And, when he saw it, he wigged out in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

Y’all I feel like I’ve seen to many weird zooms on Kaiba’s crotch in this show. Or just in life in general, especially after that surprise fic. That’s all.

I don’t know why everything exploded, but maybe the logo is cursed in the same way as God Cards? I dunno.

Anyway, this is when Dartz shows up with his brand new dog.

So they run outside onto the roof.

Now listen, does every Kaiba Corp building need the same weird ass roof? Is it like a McDonalds?

Because I’m just picturing this type of roof in SF and I’m having a time.

Forgive me if I made this lemming joke already. He’s just stood on a cliff’s edge so many times I can’t keep up.

RIP Dragon Jet, who took us from S3-S4, you’ll always live on in our memory, you glorious, wasteful, beautiful death trap.

Seto and Yugi are fine by the way, they just kinda jumped out, as you do when you’re an immortal god possessing a small boy and a...whatever the hell Seto is.

It’s at this point we reintroduce Valon because Joey went rogue and has decided to take on Dartz by himself. This is what happens when Tristan leaves the party. You always need Tristan to hold back Joey by his armpits to keep him from fighting random people.

So I guess Valon’s gonna die next episode. That’ll be nice.

What’s great about this show is each arc is just watching each villain die. You know they’ll die. But...how much?

Anyway, that’s all for today. I’m still drawing a hell ton of stuff so I don’t know when the next update will be...but just now I haven’t dropped off or something. I’ll...eventually get to it.

And if you just got here, this is a link to read all of these in chrono order.

Anyway, I mentioned Hercule Poirot, (because watching a hell ton of BBC was how I spent time with my family when I was a kid, and my very Southern Grandma freakin LOVED Hercule Poirot) So here is the best subplot of that show, which is David Suchet eating stuff.

And which doesn’t want to embed for some reason. Probs can’t embed more than one video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17antzzJrzQ

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risingsouls · 4 years

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Recruited: Prologue

[I suck at titles so excuse the lameness of me just using the name for Nabooru’s new verse.

So I decided to write actual shit for this because I’m in love with the idea and exploring it. This is just some background on how shit gets set in motion but you can have it anyway. :3]

Nabooru had witnessed falling stars before, trails of light streaking through the sky on clear nights. But never had she seen such a display at midday. Watched them crash into the desert sands with such force as to quake the ground beneath her feet, the edifice she and her people resided in shuddering in protest.

If they had been shooting stars, she would have made a wish on them like a child still so filled with hope for the world. She would have wished for clairvoyance, to know the dreadful shift her life would take, delivered by this phenomenon.

After helping to quell the excitement and panic, she joined Ganondorf and a group of the Elite to investigate. They found that the stars were no stars at all but spherical contraptions embedded in deep pits they created in the sand. They cracked open like a quintet of eggs and out stepped a crew of people the likes she had never seen before, their features all varied and strange to her down to the clothes they donned.

They hardly noticed the pair of Gerudo step forward despite the king’s size as they conversed among themselves. Planning. Doling out orders. Three took to the air without aid that she could see, leaving the Gerudo in awe. The two remaining--a shorter fellow with a snowy mohawk and reptilian features and a burly warrior with dark hair and sea-colored skin--approached and demanded we offer refuge. Nabooru opened her mouth to protest, but the lizard man raised a hand, a yellow sphere of light forming in his palm and aimed at her chest. Baffled by the technique, on edge over its similarity to magic, she closed her lips again. The message was clear: comply or die.

The band of Gerudo lead the strangers back to the Fortress and Nabooru's unease was reflected back at her on each of the Elite's faces. Ganondorf’s tense jaw and posture, the cogs working behind his eyes as he, too, strategized ways to keep their people safe while wondering who they were, what they wanted. Friend or foe. I could see Aveil desperate to speak to me and convey her own ideas or perhaps make a joke about their appearance to relieve the tension in the furtive glances she shot between myself and the pair. Avira's hands never once left the hilt of the broadsword at her back, and I noticed a flash of silver pressed in Valis's palm. When we passed through the gates, onlookers peered around corners, stopped their training to stare, but the king's glares and the presence of these two kept them all at a distance.

The Elite meeting room was the first stop. A compromise to the initial request. Information for comfort. Nabooru sat on Ganondorf's right side, Aveil next to her, their guests seated directly across from them. The rest of the Elite filled in along the table, all eyes locked on the newcomers. She was grateful that Ganondorf wasted no time with introductions or greetings. Though the warning in his tone when he demanded they state their business only caused the two to exchange smirks. Haughty and overconfident like the stuffed-shirt nobles of Hyrule's court when either of them spoke. Nabooru wrapped her legs around the legs of her chair to keep from springing over the table and tearing them from their faces, that sphere of light poised toward her heart stark in her memory.

The lizard man answered with the ease of being used to such conversations, of someone with nothing to hide. The five of them were soldiers for the ruler of a galactic empire, words that only half made sense to Nabooru. He sent them to the planet to scout its resources, to see if it held any promise as an addition to their empire. When pressed on what that meant for them, the two once more exchanged darkly amused glances, and the dire explanation, blunt and up front, revealed why: they either found usefulness in the planet and its people or it and them would be exterminated.

A million questions swirled around in her panicked mind, most of which fell to pieces before they could reach coherence. Every sinew screamed that they should attack, but the weight of dread and apprehension pinned her and the rest of the Gerudo to their seats, masks of indifference threatening to slip and reveal the desperation and anger they had all felt for years. Hyrule's offences suddenly felt as insignificant as the bite of ants.

The second soldier spoke up before anyone could articulate further questions with one of his own. He saw the warriors training, called attention to those who had welcomed them,all armed and in peak physical condition, and asked if they were warriors. That their power levels, whatever that meant, suggested as much, dismal as they were. Nabooru could see Ganondorf felt the sting of an insult neither of them could quite grasp yet, but answered proudly that Gerudo are taught to fight from the moment they could remain upright and hold a sword.

As the conversation continued along this vein, Nabooru's apprehension welcomed curiosity when they hinted at such information at least being promising toward their survival. Potentially. A new means of combat for her to learn and strengthen herself. They mentioned something called ki, the energy he had used to threaten her, and Nabooru failed to hold her tongue. Was it magic, then? Both laughed and assured her it wasn't, that even a band of weaklings like them could harness ki or life energy and become an army capable of razing this entire planet and more. Another slight, but in the glance she and the Gerudo king shared, the glimmer of something akin to hope and a desire for strength they both shared to some degree sparking in their eyes, she knew they both wanted to unlock the secrets of this ki. A way to solve their current problems. To fight by their own means rather than artifacts not meant for them just as she always hoped.

Neither of them liked the prospective offer they set on the table for the newcomers, a sentiment shared between the king and his second the following evening as they pored over the same maps that often lead to their more heated arguments, the dead end strategies doomed more than one of them, ripped to shreds in frustration. In futility and helplessness. It was like swapping one ruler for another, but neither had cared to doubt their glib explanation of their business there. With some apprehension, Ganondorf had explained the growing tension within the country, the ire and fear of their neighbors that threatened to slowly suffocate and end their race entirely. How they fought to stave off war with diplomacy and promises of unity, a war they could only dream of winning with the scars of the last one still so fresh. It always shocked her how easily he shifted into the role of the humbled king, how he wove his passion for his people back into his words, his motives, his being. She saw the king she was proud of, the man she fell in love with all those years ago.

The bargain was simple: Ganondorf offered the Gerudo as a standing army to rule over the planet for this emperor of theirs in exchange for training in using ki which would help them overtake the current governing body. Nabooru added that, as natural warriors, the Gerudo learned quickly, and would not cost them much time. She also suggested they teach the Elite warriors first and that they could pass the knowledge on to the rest of the tribe, rather than expend time and soldiers of their own on training an entire army.

Though an agreement hung in the air, the soldiers informing them they would need to run that and the rest of their report by their emperor, Nabooru felt an elation she had not felt in years. A sense that they might finally make progress. She wanted peace, but Hyrule had made it apparent that wasn’t an option. The prospect that they could triumph and survive, to discontinue scraping by, she couldn’t help herself. And to be on the same page as the man she devoted herself to working with--someday ruling beside--after so many long months of disagreements and fights...to see a glimmer of the future she thought they could no longer sustain…

They made love that night. Truly. Deeply. Lovingly. Not as the result of a heated argument, a need for release or the adrenaline after a sparring session. Though the thought of impending doom occurred to her and spurred a second and third round before she tucked herself against his side for sleep, the thought that this could be their last night, such anxiety played a secondary role to her bolstered spirits.

Spirits that only soared higher into the cloudless desert sky when the soldiers returned with the rest of their crew and news that their emperor, Frieza, had agreed to the terms. Training commenced immediately, and Nabooru flourished. She felt like a kid again, handed her very first proper sword and learned to wield it. When she tapped into the energy slumbering within her, it amazed her how natural it felt. The skills, the strength she could have had all that time. Flight, blasts fired from her hands that tore through solid plateaus. It was invigorating. She obsessed over mastering it and challenging herself to reach new heights, finding time outside of the formal training sessions to train more. To spar with Aveil, Avira, Ganondorf, or any of the other Elite who would humor her.

If only she had known her zeal for combat would someday bite her. That she would find her proclivity for fighting, her love and enjoyment of it, a hindrance over an aid.

How it would cost her everything.

Each Gerudo had to brace themself as the gargantuan ship flew low over the fortress, the gust left in its wake ripping flags from their standards and sand whipping through the air. It landed just outside the gates in far more graceful fashion than the pods the others arrived in. Their five guests scrambled to round up all the Gerudo and assemble them in front of the fortress, barking orders to straighten clothing or to stop looking so slack-jawed. Many aired their grievances with the rushed treatment, their confusion over the unidentified craft that flew overhead. But the sight of it working the galactic soldiers into a frenzy made sense with the whispers and off-handed comments made during their stay once they finally illuminated the significance of the ship: Frieza had arrived.

Nabooru stood at Ganondorf’s side as a chair carrying a horned, diminutive creature hovered toward them tailed by two what she could only guess were his guards or generals, and she followed suit in bowing along with the rest of her tribe and the soldiers. Her gold gaze lifted in curiosity to watch them, to understand why the emperor was so feared and surmise if the horror stories his men told them rang true. She only had to stare into his crimson eyes and witness that condescendingly amused smirk once to discontinue doubting them.

The alarm bells should have sounded when he requested an audience with both her and Ganondorf. It made sense to want to speak with the one who would rule the planet in his stead. But to specifically request she join them after inquiring if she was the one he had been told about, she should have seen the signs no matter how futile a retreat would have been. Her pride blinded her to any possibility except her skill and power being seen as impressive for a beginner. Enough to have earned the emperor’s praise.

She had only been half right.

The turn the conversation took after a cordial discussion of the planet’s landmarks and resources, of how the warriors handled the training and a prospective timeframe for the attack on Hyrule, had forced Nabooru to forget most of the details of anything prior. The world slipped out from beneath her when Frieza informed the king and his second that he would recruit Nabooru to his ranks due to her skill and unusually high power level for a denizen of a planet like this one, and explained that he couldn’t rightly take Ganondorf, the more powerful of the two, as he needed him to stay and rule as promised. He would settle for close second. As insurance, to feel that he was given as much as they took in their conquest of the planet.

Every fiber of her being screamed out in protest. How could she leave her home? Her people? Her lover? And after all they had worked for and accomplished and on the brink of sacking Hyrule and starting something so entirely new? They were her life, everything she threw every ounce of her essence into. But to refuse was death. Or worse, her people's slaughter over it. She could feel herself hollowing out with each passing moment, as the same hopelessness she thought she had left behind tore the feelings of assured victory from her heart.

Ganondorf opened his mouth at last to speak for her, but she stopped him with a deep bow. "It would be my honor to serve you, Lord Frieza."

#:: nabooru ☀#:: u7 recruited ☀#fic: recruited

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sometimesrosy · 5 years

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I think madi will survive purely because I don’t think Clarke would ever be okay if she didn’t. She wouldn’t be the same after losing her kid

Well I mean every death has altered her. She hasn’t been the same after each one. Even with Bellamy. You saw who she became when she thought he had died. Was she okay? No. It doesn’t matter. She still continues on.

It’s not about having death and trauma not change her, the entire show is more about coming THROUGH the changes that death wreaks on her character. So I’m not sure that’s enough of a rationalization to put Madi on the safe list.

That said, Madi’s still one of the safer ones on my deathwatch list.

YOU KNOW WHAT?

YOU KNOW WHAT???

A thought has just occurred to me. It happened like this: I was thinking about who was safer, and I’ve got Raven and Murphy on my deathwatch list pretty high, but then I thought, oh hey wouldn’t it be a kicker if Miller (and Jackson) survived everything against all odds to be the last delinquent?

And I was like well that could happen.

And then I was like, well wait a minute. In my first serious Bellarke meta after Hakeldama, I made the prediction that endgame would have Bellarke together. Because this was the main symbolism and represented unity in this universe, which is how they survive. Right? So then I thought:

Well what if the entire series is really about bringing Clarke and Bellamy (symbolically the light and dark of humanity, self and other, head and heart,) together in order to create a new world where all can live in peace and productivity. And I thought, well yes. That fits. But what if that means to END The 100, we END the story of Clarke and Bellamy.

What if everyone lives but Clarke and Bellamy? But they die, TOGETHER (they would already be romantically together, so the canon that everyone is searching for.) And I thought, Yes that could happen.

Did JR not once say how he loved the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet? I believe he did but someone’s going to have to fact check me on that one. Anyone remember?

BUT. And please, this is the part that is freaking amazing, if it happens and there are some hints that it might, both in canon and from JR’s commentary over the years. BUT I am saying that if this is the case and Bellarke die in season 7, they won’t actually be dead.

No. I’ve been saying this for a while, at least all hiatus. Maybe longer. Because I think I first imagined an ending something like this back in the middle of s5.

I think they’ll be lost in the anomaly saving humanity. I don’t know how or why or in what capacity, but, I’m saying that our heroes, the delinquents, will believe that Clarke and Bellamy are dead, in their final sacrifice for their people. They have NEVER stopped doing that.

Then, as the delinquents pick up the pieces, sooner or later, they decide to head back to earth to fix the planet or because Sanctum isn’t working for them or whatever Idk. I believe that if the Earth is ignored and discarded in the end of this show, that that will be the biggest hanging narrative thread, because it’s ALWAYS been about getting back to earth and the rebirth of the planet and being responsible for what you’ve done. SO I think we’ll end back on earth.

So Raven packs up all of Earthkru and whoever comes with, and Diyoza leads the prisoners and Gabriel leads the Sanctumites and Octavia leads wonkru, and maybe if Madi is old enough she is the chancellor IDK. MAYBE only 100 people will come with them. That’s a nice round number and in circular storytellling would have us ending The 100, on episode 100 with a new 100 group stepping foot on Earth for the first time. We’re back bitches.

And then.

AND THEN.

They land on the planet, and find... they are not the last people on earth.

NO! There’s a beautiful society there, just like Kane imagine, and when they meet the people they find out that Bellarke did NOT die in the Anomaly, but were instead portaled back to Earth, where they began a new life, together, taking care of The Earth and tending her recovery. And they either had their own children, or the other survivors on the desert planet collected around them.

Now this would be a hundred or so years in the future about 200 years after the left. Which was the original Pilot stated length of time before the Earth was supposed to be habitable again. So Bellarke would no longer be alive. They would still be dead to earthkru BUT they would have lived a happy peaceful life, just like Monty asked them to do, just like Marper. Perhaps become heroes and famous and even worshipped in their new society (another easter egg, my friends, when they first find Sanctum and saw Becca’s infinity symbol being worshipped, Bellamy said, “well, you can destroy the planet and still be worshipped after you’re gone.” he elbowed Clarke and said, “There’s still hope for us yet.” BITCH THAT IS FORESHADOWING omg. ok breathe.)

You see, JR deliberately told us there would be a happy ever after, the 100 style, for one couple in season 5, and that was Marper. DEATH, but after a full life lived on their terms. JR ALSO told us that the ending of the series would be a happy ending, the 100 style. Which means, we can expect something parallel to what we already got. AND with the blatant mirroring of Bellarke and Marper in the last episode of season 5, to me, that’s clear foreshadowing that the happy ever after ending, The 100 style, will be for Bellarke.

I think that after we lose Bellarke in, maybe the episode before the last, maybe the first half of the last episode, and spend the rest of the first half with Raven getting the new 100 to safety on earth (maybe the revolution on sanctum meant they turn on the freedom bringers, and they can’t stay there, they are back to wandering, a new exodus.) BUT MAYBE the last half of the finale, after the revelation of Bellarke’s Eden village, then flips to Bellarke who has been lost in the Anomaly and ends up on earth.

See from THEIR perspective, while they sacrificed their lives to keep their people alive, they’re the ones how survived, and they’ve lost their family, INCLUDING Madi. To them, it’s their people who died. And we have only BELLLARKE surviving the end of the series. So they create their new society, happy ever after, as a memorial to The 100 and all the people they lost. Never expecting them to even find out that they survived.

So, like Marper, maybe we get a montage idk, maybe we just end with them starting on their society, having a baby, maybe the first earth survivors stumbling into their haven, or maybe just ending with the two of them, together, standing on the ridge, looking over the valley as the sunflare of a rising dawn flashes around them.

LISTEN. I know no one is going to buy my theory. No one thinks that JR will write a good ending because they’re bitter and disillusioned and listen to people who misinterpreted the show all the way along and don’t like to be proven wrong.

But I got a hint of an ending like this a long time ago. He SAID he likes bittersweet. He SAID he didn’t know if he was going to give our heroes hope for a better future, or if everyone else was going to get hope but not them. I think he meant Bellarke as his dual protagonists. THIS ending that I laid out first gives us the first one. No hope for Bellarke but salvation for their people. BUT THEN in a twist worthy of Clarke showing up 6 years later happy and healthy after watching her die, we find out Bellarke did survive and got their happy ending, but lost their family (like Marper.)

There are SO MANY narrative threads that this ending would tie together. Lincoln’s “you’re responsible for your monster when you let it out.” Kane’s dream of a peaceful society. Marper’s instructions for them to do better and live a happy life. The head and the heart. The circular nature of the storytelling. And then there are easter eggs and foreshadowing, like with Raven saying she wanted to take off of a planet just once without it being on fire. Or the Marper/Bellarke parallels. Or that comment of “there’s still hope for us.” Even JR saying it’s not time travel, but saying that it is a portal. And there’s something about Interstellar’s (one of the movies on his viewing/reading list he gave us before s6) weird time/space shenanigans.

I just. I’ve been thinking about an ending like this for a long time, and while my theories have CHANGED in the details, as they should while the narrative is ongoing, in essence the themes and symbolism and structure has remained the same. I actually thought we’d see something like this at the end of last season, but it’s clear now that 6 and 7 are one story, not two. And there is still movement towards my original theory, although not in the way I thought. I am instead getting new details (like the earth lodges in the background of that shot, and eligius posts about how time is a circle) that help me refine the speculation, but don’t actually make me think I’m wrong.

#the 100 #series finale speculation #series finale spec #bellarke #endgame #deathwatch #return to earth #or maybe Bellarke ARE there but they're REALLY old because how long does it take to fly home? 75 years or so?#which would make them just over 100 or so #THAT would be cool. and then the last of the ep is them telling the story to their old friends #omg i'm dying #i hope

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 6 years

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Humans are Space Aliens “Your Planet”

Some of you guys wanted to learn a little more about Krill and his planet. It was a difficult subject to write about, and I think I missed a lot, but this might as well be a start.

As always questions, comments critiques, ideas, messages, and prompts are all welcome. I try to write the stuff that is most requested, so if you want something written its best to request it :)

Descent into atmosphere was as smooth as ever, the atmosphere parted around them under the light of the constant sun-stream. The transport ship rattled maybe once or twice upon entry passing through the rare pockets of cloud that dotted an otherwise open sky. Krill sat buckled into his seat next to Captain Vir, who sat next to a large duffle bag reading a magazine.

All around the transport ship, eyes stared at the strange pair, wary of the towering human. This wouldn’t be the first time humans ventured onto his planet, in fact this would be the captain’s second time, but this would be the first time any outsider would be experiencing an extended stay. Shore leave had come sooner than expected, ad with human colonies cropping up further and further away from earth, it became only fair to let those members of the crew home for a holiday.

Since captain Vir had nowhere to stay, Krill had offered to show the man his planet in more detail. The man seemed pleased and had readily agreed to the idea. The captain had at first wondered if Krill wanted to go back after they had treated him so poorly the last time. Krill honestly did not understand the question, despite their treatment, they were still his species, and he had a duty to return, to be connected, and besides, next to the captain, he wouldn’t seem half so intimidating.

They exited the shuttle near the location of Krill’s hatching, he could see the distant incubation building from atop the landing pad. He ushered the captain follow him quickly, the man got distracted very easily, and he was notoriously hard to rein in. As they went they paused crowds and drew staring. Krill made his way up to the receiving window allowing them to run identification on him.

“Krill, will you be returning to your duties I the surgical suite during your stay.” Vrul asked.

“Yes, of course.”

The Vrul craned his neck upwards at Vir, “And will your friend be staying as well?

Krill nodded.

“Where would he like to apply his services?”

Krill looked up at Vir, and Vir looked down at Krill a confused expression on his human face. Krill wondered for a long moment about that. He knew the man was a pilot, but from what he understood about the human ideas of flying, no one would really appreciate his skill, “Um…. Demolition….. He’s very good at that.

The Vrul gave a curt gesture and sent them off.

Vir looked down, “What was that about?”

Krill looked up at him, “The nature of our species is communal, as long as we are here, we work together for the common good; everyone has their strengths and their abilities, and must apply them for the common good. While I am here I must provide my services, and as a guest you must too.”

Vir tapped a finger on his chin, “Sounds like communist propaganda but ok.”

“What?”

“What?” the human waved him off, “Never mind, I can destroy things, that’s cool.”

“I thought you might think that.” Krill muttered

They walked down the ramp and onto the city street krill pointing out things as they passed by, “That is the seat of the populous council, every seventh cycle we are expected to meet there to make decisions for the city, all of us, it’s mandatory.”

“You have mandatory democracy?”

“Yes? You may not like it, but our system of government is far more effective than yours.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my freedom.” The man grinned at Krill who just shook his head.

“Over there are the incubation chambers, ever year after mating season, all the eggs are housed there.”

The man paused, “Uh, Krill, I know that this is us a weird question to ask but….. I don’t think I ever asked if you were you know…. Male or female….. I suppose I probably should have.”

Krill waved it off, “My species doesn’t find those things as important as humans, mostly because we don’t have genders in your sense of the word. Under certain circumstances any member of my species can lay or fertilize an egg. However laying an egg takes much more time, so my work doesn’t allow for it.”

“Wow…. That’s…. that’s really weird…. So you don’t have…. Families?” The human seemed rather uncomfortable at that thought

“Traditionally we never did, but upon meeting other species we were introduced with new ways of doing things. Some of our number choose to raise their own offspring and many choose the traditional method. Either way children tend to be raised by the community.

“How many…. Children do you have?”

Krill gave a small shrug, “I don’t know, could be a hundred could be none, I’m not sure. Thousands of eggs are laid and thousands of them are fertilized, but it take the perfect conditions to hatch and even more perfect conditions to keep the young from dying. We lose hundreds every season, and that’s why many of us choose to do things the traditional way. It’s less painful if you don’t know which one was yours. However, after that you can petition to keep one of the grubs and raise them to maturity, generally everyone who has a job that allows for it must participate. Since my job is so demanding, I have never been asked, and have never asked.”

They stepped off the ramp into the street the human staring at him in wonder and confusion, “So I don’t get it, do you or do you not have families.”

“Depends on your definition. If you are talking about like your family, than you have to understand that my species does whatever makes sense and is logical for the survival of the species. Other species in the galaxy have families like yours, so it is logical to conclude that there is some benefit to doing it that way, so SOME of us follow that line. Others raise children by themselves with the help of the community, and sometimes you pare off with someone you like. Personally, I was raised by two such Vrul, and, as for you definition, I have a few other siblings.”

“So…. With all of that being said, does that mean you…. You could potentially have kids with any of these people.” He motioned around to the passing Vrul and their staring eyes.

Krill laughed heartily like the idea was absurd drawing a few eyes as they moved on, “No, no. As you know our species needs the perfect incubation to grow and thrive, however, there are subperfect incubation that allows for someone to be born, but allows some…. Deficits, most of these tend to be cognitive. Some are no more than children, others cannot understand abstract concepts and so on. Luckily for me, I remain a member of the class with four functioning cortical zones which makes me a member of a higher class. Due to the genetic likelihood of cortical malformation, they generally encourage members of my class to produce offspring together.”

Vir seemed to shuffle uncomfortably, “That seems kind of messed up, that seems like discrimination against the disabled, don’t you think.”

Krill shook his head, “to the contrary, each level is as important to society as the others. None can function without the duties performed by the others, however you need abstract concepts to build rocket ships. Though, unlike humans they are not treated less, and have the same pull in our council as anyone should.”

They passed by another set of staring eyes. Vir scratched the top of his head, “Wow, I never knew that about you guys…. Kind of makes me sound like a jerk doesn’t it?”

He paused, “Speaking of things that will make me sound like a jerk, is there anything I should avoid doing while I’m here.”

Krill snorted, “Probably avoid being human.”

The man snorted and nudged him playfully to the side, “You know what I mean, anything particularly rude or offensive I should avoid doing.”

Krill gave a sigh, “Captain, by virtue of being you, you are bound to scare someone absolutely sh*tless, but if they use logic like all of us do, than they will know that you can hardly help it. For me, on the other hand, it is quite rude to act against anything that is not species specified. The more human mannerisms that I pick up, the more I am forced to regulate my behavior.”

Captain Vir went silent just then, he felt bad for Krill, he didn’t mean to make him something that he wasn’t supposed to be, but what was he supposed to do? He took it as his only real option to watch and learn about this new planet. He had been here before, but now he was more fully able to drink the whole thing in. The sky was a soft pastel orange fading towards pink near the horizon. The ground around was awash strange white stone that glittered with crystal. Distantly he could hear the sound of rushing water, watching as a strange blue grey plant waved languidly from the distance. The distant mountains were a faded purple color.

In the sky two moons glittered.

It was a shocking and strange new world unlike earth in many ways. Compared to earth it was particularly vanilla for a habitable planet. Its weather conditions were downright affable 459 days out of its 461 day solar year. The creatures there were almost as affable as the weather. Due to the climate the idea of competition so rife on a planet like earth was almost nonexistent here. For every ecological niche there tended to be one primary filler of that category, or several who performed different variations of the same thing, never crossing paths.

As for the Vrul, they were also very affable. They had no definable religion as far as Vir could tell other than science and logic. Their society revolved about being a good citizen of the community. Everyone had their job and their place, and everyone was expected to contribute, anyone who could not follow those rules was quickly ostracized.

The buildings were made from the same crystalline stone that lined the streets, though they separated themselves form their surroundings with delicate architecture. The buildings didn’t tend to reach to high towards the sky usually one or two floors. As far as he could tell, transit consisted mainly of floating or walking, anything out of the city was completely public transit.

They didn’t have any form of currency mostly subsisting upon the idea that the most logical way to live involved everyone contributing equally to the societal good. It was a society that humans had been striving for, and failing for, for thousands of years always corrupted by greed. Communal ideations broke down in favor of greed, and the only way to survive in this world was by way of capitalistic ventures.

But there was an undertone to all of this, an ostracism towards the different, and the unknown or the unorthodox. It was subtle, but poignant. Krill may not have seen it, but he was a definite example. Perhaps that’s why Vir was here, because it made Krill stand out less in comparison. But it wasn’t just his human-ness that set him apart, there was something different, something that had already been there, something that had made him leave his planet to become a trauma surgeon and make the illogical decision to join a human ship.

It seemed interesting, that a curiosity, so common in humans, could be so rare in other species.

On this perfect planet, with its logical structure, communal goals, and perfect weather, they were missing something quite profound, love, companionship, joy?

Because you can only find light in the dark, so you can only see joy compared to pain.

Krill was different, Vir didn’t know how to put it into words, but Krill was surprisingly human in his inhumanity, and that made him special.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #humans are space australians #earth is space australia

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syxjaewon · 4 years

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part 3 ; a gun barrel

“ATTENTION! ATTENTION! WILL A ‘YANG JAEWON’ OF THE SHIP ‘SERENITY’ COME TO THE STACKHAVEN PROPRIETOR’S OFFICE? REPEAT: WILL A ‘YANG JAEWON’ OF THE SHIP ‘SERENITY’ PLEASE COME TO THE STACKHAVEN PROPRIETOR’S OFFICE. THERE IS A WOMAN NAMED ‘VERA BLACKHOUND’ WAITING FOR YOU. THANK YOU.”

everything in jaewon’s body freezes to an absolute halt as soon as the announcement is spoken over the artemisia skyplex speakers, the automated voice shouting his name and details out through the device that reaches high and low, all across the ten-mile-wide platform, in homes, in boroughs, in shops and keeps, in bars and streets, his identity spread through too many ears and minds between one second and the next. his blood zips through him as cold as space, void of his usual fire, his usual bravado, the lava in his veins stumbling into stone as heavily as his boots skidding to a stop, listening to his individuality become common knowledge, his positioning made, his anonymity shattered.

and then it hits him. her name. waiting for him. vera.

“what the fuck,” he breathes like a curse, like a question, like a betrayal, his logical mind trailing back to what he knows to be faithful reality-- a wake held in all white, that night spent in the desert, a year without her commcalls-- with what his heart hammers against his chest, trying to convince him of. is she waiting? how could she be waiting? how could she be here, of all places, some nowhere skyplex hovering over higgin’s moon, somewhere in a crowd of slaves and travellers, traders and pirates? had they burned the wrong body? had he buried the wrong ashes?

yang jaewon has done many difficult things in his life, from surviving a wasteland planet, fighting and clawing and killing his way out of a life of street thieving and alleyway hunger, to wading through bodies in a valley, in a war he believed in more than he believed in any god of any heaven, and then losing that war, losing everything, gripping tightly to a machine he could call home, a ship with a spinning engine soul. there are decisions he made in that war that will haunt him until the end of his days, ghosts that will cling to his ankles and his wrists until the last breath he exhales, but one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do is say goodbye to the woman who raised him, the woman who saved him, the woman who trusted him with the ship they both fell in love with. even now, he can still close his eyes and remember the way the stars burned down on him that night with her ashes between his knuckles, the sands of valluria yawning out around him, the sky wide and screaming overhead.

the stackhaven proprietor’s office. that’s where his answers lie.

and when jaewon propels himself into action again, he does so as a pillar of flame, a holocaust, a firestorm, his hands in fists, his stride long and cutting through the crowds like a knife, his eyes scorching all who look at him too directly as though he is the sun incarnate, shining and terrible in this miserable grey, metallic place, his coat trailing behind him like a cape on a king. he glances momentarily at the directory to find the stackhaven and then he’s off again, cleaving straight through the masses at rush-hour, uncaring of the press people make to get the hell out of his way, lest they be burned, singed just like the atmosphere that radiates off him in toxic waves.

it’s a restaurant, the stackhaven, and jaewon bursts in through the doors like a hurricane, the thuds of his boots pounding against rickety wood flooring, the weight of his fury embedding itself into everything his light touches, the man shifting into a monster, into a weapon, into a maelstrom. he knows this is a trap, this is some sort of sick joke, this is some sort of maw opening larger and larger beneath him with every enclosing step, and he knows he should be more careful, he should bring neo with him for support, for extra guns, for extra protection-- that’s why neo is part of his crew after all-- but this cannot wait, this cannot be put off, this cannot be witnessed by anyone not privy to his unfaltering devotion to vera, even if it is a mirage. it doesn’t matter. he has to see, he has to go.

the first person in his line of vision is a short, balding man, gulping at the intrusion jaewon has just made, but obviously a manager of some kind. “where is she?” jaewon asks without preamble, his tone rigid and furious.

the older man mumbles something, but points in a direction off to his left, and jaewon follows it, passing the tables and the chairs and the bar area, the rest of the staff, the kitchens, the bathrooms, until he finds a doorway at the end of a dark hall, closed off only by a curtain, a light brimming from inside. he rests a hand over his pistol hanging on his hip, peeking in first to count however many alliance paladins might be lurking inside, what sort of trap this may look like, the danger, the hazard, the risk.

but all he sees is a girl, her back to him, long dark hair reaching all the way to her waist, her face obscured, turned away from him, and even knowing that she couldn’t have possibly been vera, something inside him sinks and cracks open, melting and dropping away. he clenches his teeth and steps inside. “are you--”

the girl spins around towards him, graceful and quick like a toy top, one arm outstretched, her fingers locked on the handle and trigger of a wide-barreled blaster, the point of which is trained squarely on his chest, even from three meters away, and for a second he flashbacks to another girl with long dark hair and gun in her hand, seolhyun, about to destroy his life and his future just for loving her, just for chasing her. and he thinks, ‘yeah this seems about right.’

but then the gold plating in his irises click and spiral, the molten lava core of him focusing in on this girl, this absolute stranger in his midst, and he remembers that seolhyun never knew about vera and wouldn’t care enough to search for him now, wouldn’t have reached out to him this way. he racks his brain for a moment, trying to recognize her, trying to place her features, her eyes, her stature.

“gotcha,” she whispers into the space between them, like a victory.

“who are you?” he frowns, his brows gathering angrily. “why did you call me here?”

“it’s not obvious? from the gun?” she asks this as though it’s a real question, like she’s honestly wondering if he’d missed that portion of their sudden meeting, as though this is the first time she’s ever pulled a weapon on someone and is genuinely unsure of how large the barrel of it can seem when it’s pointed at you.

“okay, so you want to shoot me.” it’s a statement, but also a question. “why? i don’t know you.”

she nods, and there’s something off about it, something fronting about it, as though she’d gotten off track for a moment, but now things are in her control again, now things are heading in the direction she’d wanted all along. “you don’t know me. but i know you.”

“no shit.”

“i know you’re captain of a star ship and you’re a pirate,” she continues. “i know you’re between twenty-five and thirty years old, i know you fought in the unification war, and i know you visited sihnon nearly one year ago.” she pauses for effect, which he admits is a pretty good one, but there’s still an oddness about this encounter he can’t quite put his thumb on, a bizarre factor to this speech that doesn’t match the rest of their environment, a heat to her words that doesn’t reflect in her eyes. “i know your name is jaewon yang and your ship is serenity and you knew two women named lianna and vera blackhound.”

and now the crux of it, now the pinspot, the singularity in this black hole, this gravitational well, the reason he’s here in the first place, the reason he’d bothered to show up. if that announcement had only named him and his ship, nothing else, he would have split and coursed his way out of here, hopped back on serenity and floated out into the black, no backwards glances, no regrets, no folly.

but she’d used vera’s name, to guide him here, to goad him here.

he reignites, his gold eyes sharpening on this girl. “you claimed to be vera, but you’re not. what is this?”

“this,” she laces her voice with a hardness he hadn’t heard before in her tone, finally some meat, finally some steel, her arm still securely aimed at him, “is vengeance.”

a beat passes between them. he blinks at her, squinting. “for vera?”

“for lianna.”

“i don’t have anything to do with lianna.”

“stop being a dumbass!” she snaps, and it sounds petulant, schoolgirlish, cross and impatient, and jaewon figures out why this scenario isn’t fitting right, isn’t sitting correctly; because it’s false, it’s a farce. because she’s little more than a child. because she’s never held a gun before, at least not one that large, not one she’s intending to kill someone with. because she doesn’t really know what she’s doing, and he’s familiar in dealings with vagabonds and criminals enough that he knows what a life is worth and what it takes from you when you take it from someone else. and this girl, she has no idea.

“who are you?” he tries again, his words heavier this time.

“i’m lianna blackhound’s niece,” she announces, like a command, like a decree, like a net she’s casting across the whole room, as though there’s an audience here, as though it’s not just him, staring at her like she’s an idiot. “and i’m here to avenge her death.”

another silence blooms between them, only this time jaewon uses it to piece together the puzzle that’s been laid before him, the jigsaw of this strange girl and her sudden mission, which had meant nothing to him exactly five minutes ago and now has his full, undivided attention. her message now delivered, sinks in through his bones and marrow, threads through his understanding of how the universe had been set up since the beginning.

there are two eggs to crack here, two massive, iron-plated ovals to shovel into and he’s not ready for either one.

to be lianna’s niece would mean being vera’s daughter. jaewon knows this because he’d looked into vera’s family history upon her death, traced the lineage of her ariel roots through the verse, to contact lianna about her passing after the wake, after the ceremony. there had only been two daughters of the blackhound line. vera had never said a word to him about having a child, about giving up a daughter, about a family. she never spoke much at all about her life before becoming a pirate, before becoming a captain, and he had never pried into it, always assuming her a goddess, a creature born of stardust and steel, otherworldly and ethereal.

the second egg is, as always, about death.

“lianna is dead?” he should be surprised, but he isn’t.

she sneers at him then, and he catches the slight tremble in her grip, the fury making her nervous. “don’t try to play with me, i’m a registered companion, i know how lies look on a man. you were the last person to see her alive.”

he takes a step forward but he lifts his hands up for her to see. “i haven’t seen her in a year, and she was alive. i didn’t kill her.”

“the records in her office show your name as her last visitor. yang jaewon. no one else. there’s multiple warrants out for your arrest for her murder.”

his head tilts, his eyes catching and alighting in a reflection of the lamp. “multiple warrants and you’re the only one who’s managed to catch me?”

she blinks a few times at that, her mind sputtering, backpedaling, her lips pressing and quivering for a moment. “i’ve been motivated.”

“you’ve been the only one looking.” he takes another step forward, betting all his cards on this hunch, on this sinking, disgusting, repulsive hunch. the way lianna had looked that last time, those last moments between them, her face ashen-white, scared, certain that he had come to kill her, certain that death was on its way, certain that her secret had gotten her sister killed and would be the end of her as well. “still though, that’s impressive.”

“don’t compliment me!” she shouts again, probably frustrated that he’s not more frightened of her. “not when i’m holding a gun on you.”

he notices she’s not telling him to slow down as he takes another step. amatuer. “i didn’t kill lianna. but i do know why she’s dead.”

that stops her breathing, skips at her heart rate, jams the gears twisting in her mind. “what?”

he keeps his eyes locked on her, the way he would with a wild animal, a sort of careful control seeping out of him, his body measured and steady, a sort of influence, a sort of indoctrination, a leaning of his drive against hers, their wills at war, their missions in a battle, and jaewon doesn’t know this girl, but he knows himself, he knows that he wins battles and he fights dirty, and he’s not afraid. “that last meeting between us, she told me something important, something that could change everything, a story that could alter everything, that could fix everything. a secret she knew would upend the entire galaxy.”

“what?” the girl’s voice is a whisper, caught in an enchantment. “what did she tell you?”

quick as a snake, jaewon snatches the gun right out of her hands, turning away from her as she cries out, startled, his fingers making quick work to unhinge the pieces from each other, disemboweling the weapon, dismantling all it’s components in a matters of seconds.

“hey!” she screams, coming towards him, which is a mistake because he immediately rounds on her, much taller, much broader, much stronger, much angrier than she’s ever felt in so tiny a frame, his golden, sun-pierced eyes simmering down into her huge, dark irises. without her blaster, she’s reduced down into a feeble wren, her shoulders bunching up in shock and fear, making her look even younger, even thinner than she had a second ago, her body shivering and shaking under his bladed scrutiny.

in his roughest, most commanding captain’s voice, honed from years of leading a crew of villains and delinquents through space, honed from years of controlling soldiers in a war that spanned across worlds and moons and asteroid belts, he tells her, “i’m going to ask you this question exactly one last time, and you’re going to answer it. who. are. you?”

and to her credit, she raises herself, straightens herself, still shivering, straining, stressed, but strong, rooted to her stance like a tree in a storm, and lives up to the legacy her last name leaves her with. “i named myself lianna blackhound, after the aunt who raised me.”

jaewon absorbs that, checks it into his mental data collection, hating it but accepting it because looking down into her soul at this moment, barely a foot away from her, their atmospheres crushing and suffocating, he can tell she’s not lying, not about this, not about any of it. she’s here alone, she came alone, out into the black, a long way from any companion houses, to find him, to catch him, to bring him to some sort of justice, even if it was skewed and mishandled, fumbled through like a child, like someone sheltered and shaded, someone spoiled and pampered. she doesn’t have what it takes to survive out here in the grit, but she did manage to find him, even when alliance hunters have struggled to.

it means he has to be more careful, but it also means she has some kind of a knack. she must get it from her mother.

“i didn’t kill lianna,” he confesses to her seriously, now with no gun on either of them, no reason to lie or cheat. “i spoke with her and then i left.”

she’s not ready to believe him though, already shaking her head, hatred brimming in her gaze. “records have you--”

“your alliance overlords can change and fix anything to do with the records, they have unlimited control and access.”

“why would the government hurt her?”

he takes a step back from here then, allowing the intensity to lessen between them. regardless of how this conversation began, if she is who she says she is, she’s vera’s daughter. and jaewon cannot bring himself to scorch vera’s daughter. “i told you. she had a secret.” and then he turns away, making for the door, making for his exit, because this is over now, this cannot continue.

she catches him again however, her hands around his elbows, her feet slipping in front of him, fast like a fox, blocking his way. “you can’t just leave like that!”

“i can actually.”

“no! you have to tell me what it is.” he gives her a pursed, tight look, and she tries again, softer this time. “please. she was my family. if you know something, please share it.” when he still takes too long deciding or reacting at all, she switches tactics, leaning in on his frame, her hands sliding along both his biceps, as if she might hug him, as if she might press herself against him, soft and beguiling, her eyes deepening, her lips filling out, everything about the arch of her body suggestive and coy, yet still maintaining that desperate, doll-in-distress look, begging for a hero. “please?”

jaewon leans back away from her like she’s grown two heads, gold eyes wide and horrified. “yikes.”

“look,” she drops the act, “it’s hard to do prose under pressure like this.”

“don’t ever do that again.”

“i’ve come all this way to kill you and now all my plans are ruined,” her voice flattens out to a truer cadence, annoyed and exhausted and entirely out of her depth. “you’re the end of my trail. tell me something!”

he sighs, the end of all pretenses, him just a man and her just a girl, the two of them tethered to this mystery like kites in the wind, and he thinks about vera, thinks about the way she had stood atop that roof on valluria the first time he’d seen her, tall as a goddess while her ship hovered just behind her, the light streaming over her, casting her a silhouette, her eyes like stones. his mother. someone else’s mother.

he doesn’t believe in fate, but if such a thing ever did exist, isn’t this what it would look like?

“dock level 45, subsection k, row 4,” he tells her, and she blinks at him as though she hadn’t really expected him to say anything, surprised, delighted, surging with new gumption, new strength, new motivation. “that’s where you’ll find an answer.”

and then he leaves her.

******

the girl named lianna devereaux blackhound follows the ramping around the bend of the skyplex, her backpack over her shoulder, her eyes bright and hunting, her steps light-footed and swift, the blood in her veins pumping eagerly. she’s not entirely sure what she’s looking for here in the shipping department of the plex, not entirely sure if she should have trusted such an unsavory, untrustworthy creature such as a pirate captain, but here she is anyway, rushing along the gradient, searching for her next clue, moving on past her failures and her triumphs and her strides thus far, willing to set them all aside as long as she gets closer to her vengeance, closer to her retribution, closer to her justice.

dock level 45, subsection k, row 4.

when she comes upon it, she almost laughs, almost cries, almost screams, her mind blank as a white page, confused and spread out, her gaze checking once, twice, three times that she got the right coordinates, that she hadn’t missed anything.

the ship that sits before her is large and ancient-looking, a firefly class heap with wings that burn and a tail that buzzes, the kind with an open engine that rotates and an ip tracker that’s detachable, perfect for smuggling and piracy and anonymity, rugged in that uniquely beautiful way that old machines can be sometimes. the side of her declares her name in burnt oranges and crumbling yellows, like a fire that’s still burning despite all the odds against it. serenity.

“there you are,” her captain greets, stepping out from the yawning cargo bay, tugging on a crate he begins loading inside.

“what is this?” she demands.

“you want to know your answers, you’d better stick around.” he glances at her once, those glowing, amber eyes like lanterns, beckoning her on further than she’s ever been before. “you coming?”

#verse one. lianna #backstory #this is the story of the blackhound women

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rubykgrant · 4 years

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One of my old Steven Universe fan-theory “how it will all end” ideas from forever ago-

So, I was always wondering why Gems needed the Injectors to create more Gems... it seems odd that a species would need a mechanical device to reproduce. This is a real “chicken or the egg” question, because who MADE these Injectors? Somebody or something would have to build them first, in order to make more Gems. The first part of my theory was; the Diamonds. Except... remember Pearl implying that White Diamond wasn’t even like Yellow and Blue? She’s much bigger for starters, and more powerful. Also in my theory was; Gems once were created “naturally”, as beings that incubated in the ground as actual minerals/gemstones, then emurged and were “born”. They also didn’t come out fully-formed, they were legitamately more like other creatures that have a life-cycle, starting as infants and eventually growing up. Oh, and as far as “evolution” goes, Gems started out as various creatures before becoming humanoid, similar to what the Corrupted Gems were turned into. They eventually create some kind of such-and-such society, but then something goes wrong.

Perhaps some kind of natural disaster destroyed most of the Gems, but now most of the Gems are wiped-out. They have fairly advanced technology at this point, so they create the Injectors to hopefully help them re-populate quicker. Then one of the surviving Gems gets a rather unpleasant idea... “We could make ourselves more durable. This way we’ll last longer” the implications being changing the genetic make-up of Gems so they are no longer partially organic. The others don’t really care for this idea because it sound VERY bad and too controlling, but this other Gem in particular wants to do it anyway. After a conflict, there is now only one Gem left. White Diamond. The first thing she does is create new Diamonds to be her companions and counter-parts. The injectors used to make Yellow, Blue, and Pink were very big, and the result of them emurging literally caused Homeworld to crack. White still took this opportunity to tell the other Diamonds that they were all “perfect”, with herself being the most perfect, and began to set the norm of “We’ll go to other planets to create colonies, this will create more Gems, and this is how we will thrive”. What started out as a plan simply to save the Gems as a whole turned into conquest and destruction of other worlds.

White also created the “all Gems are born with a function” program in the Injectors, so she would always have Gems around to do what she needed. She also sped-up the formation process while also halting the aging process, creating Gems who come out fully-formed and won’t grow old. The intent was to create an endless supply of servants who were easily replacable. The chamber that changes the genetic make-up of Gems was hidden from the other Diamonds, but just in case she ever wanted to change anything further, White built in a special “Fusion Key” for the lock. White, Yellow, Blue, and Pink would all have to fuse together to open the chamber. This was only to be used if White was certain the others would follow her. A little side-theory here, if White knew about Pink wanting to rebel, and also resented her for being so small and “flawed”, White knew exactly what she was doing when she wanted to destroy the Gem Rebels. If Pink was not going to obey her, she couldn’t trust any Gem but herself, and so White decided to never use the altering chamber again.

An unforseen problem; Gems who have changed so much from what they were originally intended to be finally reach a point when their “light goes out”. As thier bodies are now mostly made of light with no organic material, after several thousand years they randomly begin to deteriorate. The bodies vanish, and the ramining Gems are just... gems. Regular stones, no life in them. Who can they possibly stop this from happening? After lots of research into secret Gem history, the Crystal Gems finally discover the truth. If they can figure out how to get into the hidden chamber, they could possibly do something to save all the Gems. The issue now though; the Diamonds have all “died”. They didn’t shatter or break, and Steven’s healing powers won’t revive them, but their lights went out. How can they open the door? This is when another discovery is made; multiple Gems Fusing into the correct combination will create Diamonds. This is why white outlayed Fusion of different Gems, she didn’t want anybody to know that it was possible for them to be as special as her. The correct number of Gems come together to make new White, Yellow, Blue, and Pink Diamonds, they then all Fuse to create Black Diamond and open the chamber.

Once inside though, the Fusion falls apart because the light from the Gems are going out. Steven is safe from this because his organic body is keeping his Gem alive. Now, he is alone. The chamber has a large pool of water with what looks like some kind of satellite above it... he remembers wow the Diamonds had their “extraction chambers”, and how that also lead them to figure out how to heal Corruption. There are a lot of high-tech looking devices in the chamber as well, used to change the programming of how Gems are made. Steven realizes that this water is the source of the liquid within the Injectors, and a long time ago, White programmed what she wanted each Gem to be. He can’t think of how to possibly re-program that water... but he can think of one option; Steven hits a big button on the satellite, and then cannon-balls into the water. Everything begins to glow, and then the satellite spreads this light out across the galaxy. As it washes over various dead Gems... they begin to Reform and regenerate. However, they look different; they now all have different skin-tones, which look a lot more HUMAN. Steven has helped the Gems regain their organic forms. They aren’t literally sharing his spoecific DNA, he just helped them be more like what they are supposed to be made of. For the most part, they aren’t that much different. Some of them are smaller than they used to be, they now have human skin-tones that are various shades of brown-to-sandy, but they still have the same abilities as before. They can summon their weapons, shape-shift, Fuse, and re-form if they get Poofed... they also now have actual bones, which could break if they get hurt. They now feel hungry, thirsty, tired, and they can grow old. They are, essentially, just like Steven. As everybody wakes back up and gets used to this strange new feeling, Steven comes back out of the Chamber, smiles at everybody, and says “Welcome to the human race”

#text #steven universe #fan theory #my thoughts

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that-buckley-gal · 4 years

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Gifts and Small Talk [Stronger #3]

May 9, 2011

The next morning, this “Fury” character didn’t arrive until after I’d finished my breakfast – scrambled eggs, 2 strips of bacon, and 2 pancakes along with some coffee.

We started off with introductions before he invited me to tell my story in depth since I was brief when explaining my absence to Peggy just yesterday. So I told him what happened the day in Howard’s lab, and how I woke up in Asgard and was saved by Frigga and her sons. When he didn’t prod for information, I asked if I needed to but was surprised when he instead told me about Thor’s time spent here in exile.

After that I told him about how when Thor returned and destroyed the rainbow bridge, how I was simply standing on the wrong side when it broke. I told him Loki was coming through the black hole as well though there hasn’t been any sign of him, which worried and relieved Fury. When I asked why the relief, he explained how Loki sent The Destroyer to take out Thor, which surprised me. When did Loki have time to come here without my knowing?

“So what do I do now?” I asked. “I don’t have a home. I don’t have a family. I don’t have…anything.”

“You have your powers, don’t you?” He asked.

I didn’t tell him about them. I didn’t even go into detail about them when speaking to Peggy yesterday, as she already knew about my powers. All I said was I became a shield-maiden for Asgard.

“Yours and Captain America’s files were seized and reviewed by the SSR after Howard alerted them to your disappearance. They also found some of your letters; one in particular was very telling. The one from your father?”

“Those were personal,” I said.

Fury shrugged. “I didn’t go through them. I only read your file while you were on your way here.”

“So what?” I asked. “I use my powers for the good of mankind? I don’t even know what the world is like.”

“It may disappoint you. A lot has changed since 1945.”

I nodded, chewing my lip. “Well, I don’t have anything to lose. There’s only a few people in the universe that I love, and only one of them is here on Earth.”

“Welcome to SHIELD then, Agent Barnes.”

On a private jet to Washington D.C., I properly registered as a field agent for SHIELD. I was given a new ID. Clint Barton, Hawkeye, and Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, were assigned to train me in and test my abilities seeing as they were two of the greatest SHIELD agents they had.

I was slightly doubtful of that though as Clint kept asking me questions about “space” and what my life was like in the 1940’s. Natasha put an end to the questions by giving me a laptop and told me to start getting caught up with the present before retreating back to her corner, quietly keeping an eye on me.

She didn’t trust me, but I didn’t trust her either. Not yet.

Once the plane landed, I was escorted into a truck that Clint identified as an SUV before he drove us to SHIELD’s headquarters: the Triskelion. It was dark outside so I couldn’t really see anything but streetlamps and city lights.

“The world’s definitely brighter,” I said to no one in particular. “At night.”

“I hope you’re not expecting to sleep anytime soon,” Natasha said. “We got some tests for you.”

“Tests?” I asked. “What kind of tests?”

“Just physical tests and intelligence tests. We wanna know what you’re good at and what we need to teach you to be a certified agent of SHIELD,” Clint explained.

“Okay,” I said though I was nervous. The Asgardian palace had an impressive library; Loki and I spent a lot of time in there, though I doubted knowledge on foreign space creatures and the customs of other planets would be helpful for SHIELD. “I haven’t been to high school since I was 16,” I confessed. “Oh, my god! I’m 86 years old!”

“Hey, calm down,” Natasha said. “The tests have nothing to do with…education. They’re more focused on testing your common knowledge, common sense and your survival skills. The education part is basic math and reading that I’m sure you can remember.”

“Okay, yeah. That makes sense.”

“Besides, it’s not like they really count.”

“Clint!”

“What? It’s true. They’re more of a formality; the reading’s probably more weighted since you’ll need to fill out mission logs and reports when they’re finished regardless of the outcome.”

That sounded difficult. Was it too late to change my mind? Can I just be a citizen as I was during the war?

“So, Agent Barnes,” Natasha started. Her green eyes met my blue ones in the rearview mirror. “What kind of abilities do you have?”

“And how’d you get them?” Clint asked.

I sighed. “I got my powers around my twentieth birthday. My dad left a letter for me explaining what he was and where he was from, and what I should be expecting. Apparently they were called Oer’s Gifts where he was from and they develop when the people reach 20 years of age.”

“Oer’s Gifts?”

“Yeah. My dad was from this planet called Oerlin. Thor told me about it after I told him and his buddies about my powers. He said it was a lot like Midgard…like Earth, sorry. I guess once you’re gifted, that’s it. You and your children, and children’s children and so one would have the Gifts as well. Like, it becomes part of your bloodline.”

“Does everyone get the same gifts?” Natasha asked.

I thought about Stefan and how our powers were alike and different. “No. I mean, kind of. I don’t know really. Stefan and I both have enhanced strength, speed, senses, reflexes and endurance, but that’s about it. We share some other powers but they’re not exactly the same, if that makes sense.”

“Who’s Stefan?” Clint asked.

“My son,” I said. “He was born here, five days after I turned 21.”

“Is he the friend you were referring too earlier? The one who was coming towards the black hole?”

“No, I was talking about Loki. Thor kept Stefan anchored to the bridge, and I know that he’ll keep him safe.”

“I can use my hands as flashlights, as dumb as that sounds. But I’m also kinda fireproof, and can be a good heater in the cold,” I said after a tense silence. “I can heal people. Um, I can turn myself into the things I touch, like my shield for example. I scared Thor one time by pretending to be a vibranium statue,” I chuckled remembering how much Thor laughed after discovering my new power.

“Um, I don’t know if you saw my little ball of electric energy yesterday but I can do that too. Didn’t realize that one until we got an unexpected visitor one day; his ship was electric and I disabled it without thinking about it. I only agreed to fix it if he left Asgard alone.”

There were a couple of more Gifts that I supposed I should disclose but I felt like I’d done enough talking for the moment. Talking to animals was one thing, but teleporting was another. I wanted to make sure SHIELD was as these people kept telling me it was before telling them about those ones. Also, the time control thing was still something that I didn’t have much control over and I didn’t want to set myself up for failure before I even started. So I kept these to myself while Clint and Natasha processed the information I gave them.

Not long after that, Clint announced our arrival at the Triskelion. He pulled me in one direction to do some paperwork while Natasha walked off in another direction.

“Where’s she going?” I asked.

“Going to go clear out a training room for when we finish,” he shrugged before motioning me to take a seat before laying out some papers. “Just fill these out to the best of your ability.” I did.

After I finished my hand was cramped and there were some ink stains from the pen, but Clint didn’t seem to care or mind as he packed up my papers in a large envelope before leading me to another room.

Natasha had me change out of my civilian clothes and into some workout clothes before guiding me to stand in the center of the room. She advised me to not think too much of her and Clint as my audience before alerting me that I was going into a simulator and to do whatever it took to survive, and to not worry about repercussions.

When I gave her a worried look, she said, “You didn’t bring up the fact you were fireproof for no reason, did you?” My reason was that besides flashlights, my hands could also make fire.

“Okay,” I said simply and Natasha nodded before walking off. I turned away from her and shook my hands out and did a few stretches. After a few minutes, Natasha’s voice came over a loudspeaker as she asked me if I was ready for the simulation to begin.

“I am.”

#stronger #the avengers #natasha romanoff #clint barton #nick fury

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gojirahkiin · 5 years

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What the Godzilla Anime should’ve been! Part 1

Starting with an apology to Tyrantis Terror, and a promise that unlike the last time I pinged you with fanfiction, this will be a good read.

Alright, so @tyrantisterror‘s cry of “BE INTERESTING YOU COWARDS!” is essentially the majority opinion of the Godzilla fandom towards the anime. This is how I, personally, would fix it.

To do so, I would take three premises, because in my spite I want to prove that there is a way that good can come of them:

Godzilla has reigned undisputed for 20,000 years

Mothra is dead, but her egg and people live

Ghidorah is an eldritch god.

What the anime lacks boils down to two things: character and spectacle. Everyone was boring and nothing cool happened.

But even assuming that you want to go in a completely different direction than the rest of the Godzilla franchise, you don’t have to be garbage about it. So Mothra has no Shobijin/Cosmos/Elias equivalents. Fine, but she doesn’t need any since she has an entire race/species of people. But you know who does need some now?

I present some amazing fanart for a priestess of King Ghidorah! Ignore the Noodledorah silhouettes behind her. I am scrapping that entire design for eldritch ramen.

Even worse, the canon Exif communicated with Ghidorah through math. That is the lamest thing possible. But once again harvesting and inverting classic Mothra, what do you think I could substitute for Fairy Mothra, a fragment of spirit given form and purpose?

A Dorat. Obviously it needs tweaking. No aspect of King Ghidorah would ever deign to be so cute. But my point stands: his most devout worshipers would have these tiny avatars of their god to guide them in their malice.

Now, I said that Mothra doesn’t need the Shobijin since she has a race/species. That’s not a metaphor. The canon Houtua are covered in powdery tattoos and given antennae. It’s never made explicit (because that might be cool) but they are implied to be literal children of Mothra.

Imagine the implications of being able to genetically prove that your goddess is the mother of your species? I discard the name Houtua and rename these technical kaiju the Elias. Could’ve also called them Cosmos, but I flipped a coin.

I’ll come back to Mothra in a bit. For now, let’s talk about Godzilla. He’s the ruler of Earth in this continuity, but what does that really mean? Well...

I do want to say that I’m not making this a post-apocalyptic MonsterVerse, as cool as that would be. What I mean is that every kaiju that hasn’t submitted to Godzilla’s dominance has been killed.

Godzilla is King of the Monsters in that he has no true rivals for the throne, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t resistance.

Mothra’s egg is hidden, proving that it is possible to hide from him. It is also possible to run from him since he can’t be everywhere at once, and there are creatures capable and willing to do both.

This is where my versions of the Servum (the worm & dragon-like creatures that were never named and hardly shown in canon) come in, in both name and concept.

The Kaiju Catastrophe wiped out many species, if only because humanity got increasingly destructive in their efforts to stop it, leaving vacuums in many ecosystems. 20,000 years isn’t a long time for new species to evolve, but a core theme of the Godzilla series is that mutations happen quickly.

In the aftermath, many species mutated and evolved to be symbiotic towards Godzilla, because being simultaneously around and useful to him was a great way to survive and be protected.

These creatures are the Servum, but there aren’t that many ways to be useful to Godzilla, and so they are essentially “battle honey guides.” They hunt down and swarm creatures that show signs of hostility toward the King, or simply call to summon him if they think they’re out of their league.

Godzilla has naturally been growing and mutating for all 20,000 years, but unlike the near-comatose tree in the anime, my Godzilla is active and roaming. Most of the Earth has well-worn pathways because unless he must deviate to deal with a challenger, he has a decently efficient patrol route.

One of the other results of Godzilla's never-ending world tour is that everything is a bit more radioactive and a bit more violent. The first is natural. The second requires explanation.

Essentially, kaiju that covet the throne hide in nice fertile areas with lots of food of whatever kind they eat. These are typically destroyed in the battle when Godzilla finds them. As a result, aggression, growth, and general "kaiju-fication" has been encouraged in the wildlife for the last 20,000 years, because if you can protect your territory from would-be crown-hunters it won't be destroyed by Godzilla.

Biollante exists, but less as a distinct creature and more as a taxonomic classification; when Godzilla destroys a region in battle, it takes truly remarkable plants to colonize it - these aggressive and radiosynthetic plants are the Biollante.

Now let’s talk about Mechagodzilla, an technology in general. What is left of humanity after 20,000 years? Not a lot to be honest.

Bunkers aren’t much protection from burrowing kaiju, and not even the most optimistic “abandoned by people” documentary thinks any skyscraper will last for 20,000 years.

But it sounds like I’m contradicting myself - if new kaiju are always rising, and virtually all traces of humanity are gone, then where are Mechagodzilla and Mothra’s egg in this continuity? Hilariously, they’re still around because they’re in almost the same place.

In my take on this scenario, Godzilla first appeared in 1954 at a height of 50 meters. By the time humanity had to flee in 2054, he’d swelled to his 100 meter height.

As a result, Mechagodzilla’s factory was built inside a mountain, so that the facility could constantly expand so that if and when the machine got wrecked, it could be rebuilt bigger and better for the next rematch, and both mecha and factory were constantly being built and improved until almost the day humanity evacuated.

Mothra first challenged Godzilla after humanity fled, but her standard procedure is to find a nice safe place for her egg before charging into mortal combat, and she found this very conveniently mostly empty hangar inside a mountain. A bit bland and sterile for her taste, but safe.

Hearkening back to the Heisei era again, Mothra’s egg is psychic, and has a useful passive defense. It radiates an aura that renders the area uninteresting to any kaiju not specifically looking for a Mothra egg. As a result, the egg, the Elias, and Mechagodzilla have been housemates for 20,000 years give or take.

Some of you may have caught that I said Mothra first challenged Godzilla. That’s because this version of Mothra is also active in the timeline... in a sense. Each time the egg hatches, the new Mothra has been challenging Godzilla, and each time she’s taken longer to develop, but done better in the fight. And the most recent challenger was 10,000 years ago...

So, let’s talk about King Ghidorah himself. The anime’s designers claim that their Ghidorah is the final evolution of the essence of Ghidorah.

Screw that! If I want an enemy that’s unkillable because he’s technically in another dimension, other franchises have done it better and with more spectacle.

King Ghidorah isn’t just about destruction. It isn’t enough to let a ghost noodle rip apart and eat a planet (in lore and not on screen of course). King Ghidorah is about the fear, helplessness, and despair in the face of an end to everything you care about that cannot be stopped.

Some people complain that in Rebirth of Mothra III, Ghidorah only destroyed a little bit and then went back to guarding his dome. My hypothesis is that there was a very deliberate and cruel reason for that.

The children knew that they’d been captured and knew that the walls were acidic because one of them tossed a ball at it. But their parents didn’t know yet. Ghidorah destroyed a little and then went back to the dome so that the parents would know what happened and that there was nothing they could do to stop it.

Also, he loomed over the dome and watched it - he was waiting for the digestion process to begin; he was people-watching in the most sadistic manner possible, like a child setting fire to ants with a magnifying glass.

But that incarnation of Ghidorah was a bit too stoic and focused for my taste. I want him to hearken back to Shōwa Ghidorah: we don’t know why he does what he does, only that he’s having a blast doing it!

So let’s run with that. I’m discarding the Exif’s name. In another callback to the past, their name can translate as Xians or Xiliens depending on your preference. And the Xiliens don’t often name their god, but they call him one of three euphemisms: The Laughing King, The Golden Light, and The Threefold Death.

The Xiliens also follow their god’s example: they are quite cheerful and always happy to meet new people (because they’ll get to kill them later); they’re decked out in gaudy, shiny golden colors; and when they’re getting ready to kill someone, they do their damnedest to give them a threefold death.

The Death of their Hopes.

The Death of their Body.

And reserved for their god alone, the Death of their World.

When King Ghidorah is summoned by the terrible cruelty and laughter of his followers, a tear into another dimension is opened over the planet, and an asteroid drops from it, with all the destructive power you’d expect of an asteroid strike.

To die in the blast is an honor and a mercy, because the true horror manifests from the molten ruins and lets out a cackling roar that can be heard across the entire planet. If there are any orbiting ships or space stations, the roar defies all laws of reality to be heard there too.

And in every listener, the sound inspires the primal terror of imminent death.

A cornered rat will bite the cat, but the Laughing King does not begrudge his prey. It’s no fun if they don’t fight back! They need to believe that they stand a chance, so that as they lie bleeding and broken by the Golden Light of gravity beams their hopes can die with their flesh!

This is the true purpose of the Threefold Death that is King Ghidorah. You don’t kill for sustenance or defense; such material needs are mark of a mortal. You kill for fun! For the joy of watching life and hope leave a victim’s eyes!

That is the true essence of King Ghidorah!

#Fanfiction #Premise #Worldbuilding #Godzilla #Mothra #Mechagodzilla #King Ghidorah #Rant #animezilla #noodledorah #Proud of Myself

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buzzdixonwriter · 5 years

Text

Hoo Noo Shmoo?

Never let it be said that this blog is flagging in its enthusiasm for flogging horses so dead they’re found in the glue bin at Office Max.

To whit, the Scorsese vs MCU brouhaha.

Bottom line: Scorsese is right. As well made as MCU movies are, they ain’t cinema, they’re glorified commercials to sell MCU product.

Full disclosure: I should know, since I wrote for G.I. Joe, Transformers, and a host of other toy-based syndicated animation shows. I’m happy with the work I did, I can point proudly to specific episodes I wrote that aspire to be more than mere half-hour commercials…

…but they ain’t art.

They ain’t art, despite our aspirations to do the best job we could, because ultimately we creators were not allowed to create what we felt best for our stories, but what Hasbro deemed vital to their sales.

(The closest we got to art was when Hasbro cancelled The Inhumanoids toy line in mid-production of the TV series, and said we could finish our broadcast commitment however we saw fit so long as it didn’t result in an FCC complaint. As a result, we went nuts.)

My Hasbro / Sunbow experience remains a highpoint of my creative life, so I’m not denigrating the talent, skill, ability, spirit, and enthusiasm of those making MCU movies.

…but they ain’t art.

Now, those who love MCU movies think Scorsese’s comments are a slam against them.

Welllll…no, not directly.

But they do underscore how popularity -- especially of media designed to push product -- is a faulty measuring stick for artistic merit.

Case in point: The Shmoo.

Wuzza shmoo, you ask (and thus proving my point)?

Shmoos were extremely popular in the late 1940s. Part of the wonderfully wacky world cartoonist Al Capp created for his hit Li’l Abner comic strip, shmoos represented a parable on American consumerism, modern day geese laying not mere golden eggs but birthday cakes with candles a’blazin’.

As Capp described them:

They reproduce asexually and are incredibly prolific, multiplying faster than rabbits. They require no sustenance other than air.

Shmoos are delicious to eat, and are eager to be eaten. If a human looks at one hungrily, it will happily immolate itself -- either by jumping into a frying pan, after which they taste like chicken, or into a broiling pan, after which they taste like steak. When roasted they taste like pork, and when baked they taste like catfish. Raw, they taste like oysters on the half-shell.

They also produce eggs (neatly packaged), milk (bottled, grade-A), and butter -- no churning required. Their pelts make perfect boot leather or house timbers, depending on how thick one slices them.

They have no bones, so there's absolutely no waste. Their eyes make the best suspender buttons, and their whiskers make perfect toothpicks. In short, they are simply the perfect ideal of a subsistence agricultural herd animal.

Naturally gentle, they require minimal care and are ideal playmates for young children. The frolicking of shmoos is so entertaining (such as their staged "shmoosical comedies") that people no longer feel the need to watch television or go to the movies.

Some of the more tasty varieties of shmoo are more difficult to catch, however. Usually shmoo hunters, now a sport in some parts of the country, use a paper bag, flashlight, and stick to capture their shmoos. At night the light stuns them, then they may be whacked in the head with the stick and put in the bag for frying up later on.

Of course, in the original strip continuity, the shmoos were quickly eradicated, driven to extinction by food packagers who feared bankruptcy.

It was a sharp, biting message, and one that looked critically at both insatiable consumerism and capitalism’s claims of superiority.

Capp, of course, was too savvy a marketeer himself to eliminate the shmoos entirely, and so he provided for one breeding pair to survive…and for the shmoos to make repeated appearances for the rest of Li’l Abner’s run.

Shmoo mania ran rampant with shmoo dolls, shmoo clocks, shmoo games, shmoo candy, shmoo snacks, and shmoo apparel.

The money truck basically backed up to Capp’s front door and dumped its load on his porch. Shmoos proved insanely popular and it seemed the mania would never end…

…except it did.

To mangle metaphors, you can only take so many trips to the same well before your audience starts asking “What? Beans again?”

And then, in a fickle flash, it’s over.

I’d be hard pressed today to find anyone younger than the boomer cohort who ever heard of Al Capp or Li’l Abner unless their school or community theatre presented the Broadway musical adaptation of the strip (the show remains popular with amateur theatrical troupes such as high schools and colleges because the huge cast of Dogpatch citizens guarantees everybody who tries out for the show will land some part in it).

For all their popularity and merchandise and media impact -- songs on the radio, big spreads in weekly news magazines -- the shmoos left virtually no cultural footprint.

(Full disclosure yet again: I wrote for a Scooby-doo knock-off by Hanna-Barbera called The New Shmoo and it was a piece of crap, abandoning the whole consumerism point of the original shmoos and making them -- or just “it” in our case -- a pseudo-funny dog sidekick for a squad of mystery solving kids. And it wasn’t a piece of crap because we didn’t try our best, it was a piece of crap because the shmoo was treated as ubiquitous “product” under the misconception that of course everybody younger than Joe Barbera would recognize the name and love the character so deeply that they’d simultaneously develop amnesia about what made the original character so appealing.)

Product.

That’s what one of the most brilliant, most poignant, most spot-on commentaries on rampant consumerism and ruthless capitalism ironically reduced down to. Product.

There’s a line in Jurassic Park that resonates here: ”Life will find a way.”

Let’s paraphrase that to “Art will find a way” because like life, art is an expression of the creative urge.

Right now, by and large, it’s trapped in the giant all encompassing condom of corporate consumerism, providing fun and pleasure and excitement, but not really creating anything new, to be wadded up and thrown away when the suits are done screwing us.

But every now and then there’s a tiny pinprick in the sheath, and when that happens there’s the chance of something wonderful, something meaningful, something of lasting value emerging.

It is possible for art to emerge from a corporate context, but only if the corporate intent is to produce a work of art for its own purposes. Michelangelo carved David as a work for hire, the local doge commissioning the sculpture because he wanted to impress peers and peasants by donating the biggest statue ever made by the hottest artist of the era (and even then Michelangelo needed to resort to subterfuge to keep the doge from “improving” on his work with “suggestions” [read “commands”].)

The very first Rocky movie was a work of art because the producers focused on telling a simple, singular story about a loser who could only win by going the distance, not by defeating his opponent but by refusing to be beaten by him.

It’s a great cinematic moment that rings true and it’s going to last forever…unlike sequels Rocky II - V where Rocky fights supervillains like Mr. T and a robot (hey, that was the movie playing in my head when I watched Rocky IV and it was a helluva lot more entertaining than what I actually saw onscreen).

The suits castrated Rocky, reducing him from a unique universal cultural touchstone down to…well…product.

The MCU movies are product; rather, they are two-hour+ commercials to sell product in the form of videogames, action figures, T-shirts, and Underoos.

The real art occurred almost 60 years ago when Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko knocked out page after page as fast as they could, drawing deep from the wellsprings of their own interests, experiences, and passions.

(“What about Stan?” I hear you ask. Look, we all love Stan, but truth be told his great contribution to the MCU came in his service as drum major for the Merry Marvel marching Society. God bless him for firing up the fan base’s enthusiasm for the Marvel bullpen’s work, but compare what his artists did before and after their collaboration with him to what he did before and after his editorial tenure at Marvel and it’s clear upon whose shoulders the muses rested.)

As much fun as MCU movies are (I’ve seen about 1/3 of ‘em and enjoyed most of what I saw), I also recognize in them the harm they do.

They are promoted heavily to sell product to raise the fortunes of one of the biggest corporations on the planet, a corporation that holds control over five of the largest, most popular entertainment brands on the market.

To protect their cash cows, Disney chokes potential rivals in their cribs.

Think there’s going to be another Alien or Predator movie now that Disney owns them and Star Wars? Why create rivals to a mega-successful property you already own? (I will be genuinely surprised if we see another Guardians Of The Galaxy movie in light of the faltering popularity of Star Wars in Disney’s eyes; they’re going to want to shore up their billion dollar investment rather than call it a day and let some upstart -- even an upstart they own 100% -- rob them of revenue.)

Disney’s battle plan to choke out all potential rivals leaves no room in the DEU (Disney Expanded Universe) for independent minded creators.

They want competent hired pens who can churn out the product they desire in order to bolster sales of other products derived from those.

(Even more full disclosure: I wrote for Chip ‘n’ Dale’s Rescue Rangers as well as some Aladdin and Scrooge McDuck comic book stories.)

Disney’s MCU, for all its expertly executed whiz-bang, is a bloated, soulless zombie, a giant gaudy inflated parade balloon blocking the vision of others.

There’s a scene in the movie The Founder -- a genuine cinematic work of art that comments ironically on the selling of a product -- that applies here.

Ray Kroc (Michael Keaton) relentlessly browbeats the McDonald brothers (Nick Offerman and John Carroll Lynch) into letting him replace their real milkshakes with what will come to be known as the McShake, an ersatz product that at best reminds one of what a real milkshake should taste like.

The McDonald Brothers are horrified. Not only does it not taste like a real milkshake, but it goes against the very grain of what they desire as restauranteurs: To provide quality food quickly for their customers, trading value for value.

Kroc will have none of this. To him the customers are simply one more obstacle between him and their money.

He doesn’t see them as the source of his revenue, but as impediments to same.

What benefits them, what nurtures their diets, what gives them pleasure, what trades value for value is completely unimportant to him.

They exist only to make him rich and powerful.

By the end of the film, Kroc has effectively declared war on his own partners, his own employees, his own customers. He recognizes he is not in the business his customers and employees and partners think he’s in (i.e., fast food) but rather in the real estate business, buying land that McDonald’s franchises must lease from him in order to operate.

By the end, he’s not concerned with how well his customers eat, or how well his employees are treated, or how financially secure his franchise managers feel.

By the end, all he wants is the money, and he doesn’t care how his franchises make it so long as they pass it along to him.

As a result, McDonald’s contributes heavily to America’s obesity and diabetes epidemics, advising their employees to take second jobs so they can afford to continue working for them at substandard wages.

Disney’s MCU is a super-sized Happy Meal™ that’s ruining the cultural health of its consumers.

#Marvel #Disn #Jack Kirby #Stan Lee #Steve Ditko #Star Wars #MCU #Rocky #Martin Scorsese #media #movies #superheroes

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